THE GLORY BUS 12 страница

‘Norman. ’ Doctor Pearman looked pained. The same flinch he’d perfected in his days in the medic drama when his professional integrity was questioned. ‘Norman. Norman. Dear boy, we are talking in thousands here. ’

‘Five thousand dollars? ’

‘A trifling sum, when all’s said and done, but it is symbolic of your faith in our business acumen. ’

‘Oh, sure, sure. ’ Norman nodded, trying to appear wise. ‘Five thousand dollars. ’

‘Does that sound reasonable? ’

‘Oh, yes. Completely reasonable. ’

Maybe I can raise the five thou on MasterCard? Or maybe I can rob a bank? After all, after killing a couple of cops armed robbery is no great shakes.

Doctor Pearman raised his glass. ‘Then may I propose a toast to our new business partner. And I have never seen such a wise head on such young shoulders. If I—’

‘You rogues! You damn rogues! ’

Startled by the sound of a female voice in an outbreak of sheer fury, Norman turned to see a young woman in a white nurse’s uniform come striding through the entrance to the enclosed lawn.

Norman goggled. The woman was curvaceous in the nurse’s outfit. Her dark hair was cut short. Somehow angular, too. The effect, combined with her flashing eyes, was formidable.

She advanced on the table where Norman was sitting with the two men.

‘So, ’ she said, looking at Norman, ‘who’s this pathetic bastard? ’ She gave a contemptuous toss of her head. ‘The next poor lamb to the slaughter? ’

Chapter Twenty-six

The moment the woman began advancing across the grass everyone stopped talking.

Stared.

Bubble burst.

Party pooped.

Norman had been starstruck in the company of these still-glamorous actors and actresses. Now—

BINGO!

What was I doing, agreeing to invest money in a motel?

The guy who played Doctor Pearman gave a charming smile. ‘Dee-Dee. ’

‘Don’t Dee-Dee me. ’

Jesus. This nurse – was she a real nurse? – was formidable.

Norman thought: I’m in love.

His stare swept over the nurse’s figure in the tight-fitting uniform. How old was she? Twenty-three? Twenty-five?

Her short-cut hair was immaculate.

Dark.

Glossy.

Uh, not like Boots. Not bleached. Not spiky.

This was beautiful hair.

The nurse strode up, her gaze scanning the food and drink on the tables.

‘Dee-Dee, honey, ’ Doctor Pearman purred. ‘Sit down; have a glass of wine. ’

‘Oh, Dad, you promised you wouldn’t do this, ’ the woman called Dee-Dee groaned.

Darren tried a disarming smile.

It looked on the thin side.

‘We’re only entertaining one of our guests, ’ Darren said.

‘Of course, ’ Doctor Pearman agreed. ‘We thought a little barbecue. A pleasant interlude. ’

‘Interlude, my eye, ’ Dee-Dee stormed. When she spoke it was directed at everyone on the lawn. ‘You’ve all decided to put on one of your shows again, so you can fleece the first no-brained sap that comes your way. ’

‘Hey, ’ Norman said, stung by her insult.

She turned to Doctor Pearman again. ‘Dad. We can’t save all this by defrauding our guests. ’

Norman stared at the woman in the nurse’s uniform.

She stared back.

‘You oughta go, ’ she told him.

‘You were in the show? ’ Norman asked, puzzled. ‘I don’t remember –’

‘No, I wasn’t in Intensive Care. ’ The woman sounded as if she’d explained this so many times that it bored her to repeat it again. ‘I’m too young for that pile of crap. Besides, I’m no actor. I’m the only one here with medical qualifications. I’m a nurse at St. Jude’s Hospital downtown. A real nurse. ’

She looked real enough.

Look good through and through.

Norman noticed that the zipper on the uniform that was all glacial whiteness in the light of the setting sun ran from her throat all the way down to the pit of her stomach.

Now that’s a zipper worth unzipping, he thought as he watched the angry rise and fall of her breasts.

‘Sir, ’ she said in a softer voice. ‘You won’t report this to the police, will you? ’

‘Uh, no, of course not, but—’

‘But you’re wondering what’s going on? ’

Norman nodded.

Dee-Dee walked round the assembled cast of ex-actors and former actresses. They had that glassy-eyed expression of people who know that they’re in the wrong. As she walked she explained.

‘They’ve probably told you. . . uhm? ’

‘Norman. ’

‘They’ll have explained, Norman, how after the show was canceled because they’d all demanded huge hikes in salary they bought the motel? ’

Norman made with the nod again, concealing his previous ignorance of the real reason for the cancellation of Intensive Care.

‘They didn’t explain that they were so inept, and so lacking in business acumen, that they bought a motel that wasn’t on a major highway? ’

‘No, they said it was thriving. ’

‘Thriving, huh? We’re lucky to have a dozen paying guests a week. Isn’t that right, Dad? ’

Doctor Pearman nodded.

‘Isn’t that so, Darren? ’

Uncomfortable, Darren nodded too.

‘So this bunch of retired thespians live in the motel, taking it in turns to play the roles of chalet cleaners, motel clerks, groundskeepers. ’

Doctor Pearman looked pained. ‘This young man doesn’t want to hear all this. . . this fact. Facts a

re the weighted boots of reality. Facts, my dear, make the world miserably trudge when it should be dancing. ’

‘Dad, you can’t charm people out of their money. That’s a painful fact of reality that you’ve got to learn. ’ Dee-Dee shook her head sadly.

Norman got up to speed. ‘You mean there are no conventions? No horror writers turning up next week? ’

‘Alas, no, dear boy. ’

‘And we couldn’t even give the place away, ’ Dee-Dee told Norman. ‘So it’s my nurse’s paycheck that feeds these scoundrels. It meets the loan payments, too – just – and this is how the damned ingrates repay me. ’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a nice glass of chilled white wine? ’ Darren asked.

‘Maybe I should, seeing as I’ve paid for all this. ’ She glared at Darren. ‘What happened to the list I gave you for the groceries? ’

‘Well, eh, we—’

‘I don’t recall putting wine and T-bone steaks on the list. ’

‘No. Dee-Dee, we’re sorry, we thought—’

‘Thought? That’s it, you never do think. Dad, you could go to jail for trying to pull a stunt like this. ’

Norman watched Doctor Pearman swallow. This was getting too much for him.

‘I don’t think they really meant any harm by it, ’ Norman told her.

‘That’s just it. ’ She sounded weary. ‘They are harmless. They’re ineffectual, too. They cook up grand schemes over martinis, and they’re all just daydreams. I gave Darren a hundred dollars to buy the groceries on my list. A list budgeted so tightly because we don’t have any money in the bank. And look, they’ve spent it all on beer, wine, fancy steaks. Shit. . . I don’t think I can carry on anymore. ’

‘Darling, darling, ’ Doctor Pearman cooed. ‘We can work something out. ’

‘No, you can’t, ’ she said. ‘None of you can. ’

Norman winced at the expressions on the faces around him.

Sorrow. Guilt. Remorse.

Dee-Dee continued, ‘When it comes to remembering your lines and pretending to be someone else you’re great. When you try and live in the real world you’re. . . ’ She shrugged. ‘Oh, what’s the point? ’

There was a pause while no one spoke. No one moved.

Insects hovered on the air as day turned into night. Somewhere a sensor activated floodlights that lit the lawn a garish green. A hamburger that had been forgotten on the barbecue gave a pop. It started to burn with a greasy yellow flame.

Phew, what a night.

Sure is cool to hang out with the cast of Intensive Care, though. Even if they are a bunch of conmen.

Not very good conmen.

Now this girl called Dee-Dee shows up, the daughter of Doctor Pearman.

Probably just in time before he, Norman, went out to rob a liquor store for the five thou.

It was the kind of pause that could be filled by anything.

More remonstrations from the formidable though sexy Dee-Dee?

A tearful breakdown by Doctor Pearman? Leastways, by the guy who played him.

But:

Three figures stepped through the gateway in the hedge.

Two burly guys. And a rugged woman of around thirty.

They wore police uniforms.

Dared he hope that these were actors, too? Three tired players from a cop drama wanting a room for the night.

Dee-Dee groaned. ‘See, Dad? One of your victims has reported you. ’

‘Oh my, ’ he breathed. ‘I don’t think jail is my preferred venue. ’

Darren paled.

The rest of the has-been actors and actresses looked as if they’d faint.

‘The game’s up, ’ Doctor Pearman muttered.

Dee-Dee took a step toward the three officers. ‘Please. I can explain. My father is an actor. He tends to live in a fantasy world. ’

‘Dee-Dee? ’ Doctor Pearman looked pained.

‘Whatever my father and his friends have done I’m sure we can resolve it. ’

The three cops slipped revolvers from their holsters.

Aimed them across the table laden with wine bottles and potato salad.

‘My dear sirs, madam. ’ Doctor Pearman rose to his feet. ‘There is no need for weaponry. I shall not resist arrest. ’

The oldest cop spoke. ‘Wiscoff. Norman Wiscoff. I have a warrant for your arrest. ’

Now all stares swept toward Norman as the three police officers closed in, aiming their handguns at his chest.

Norman swallowed a lump the size of Tennessee in his throat.

Tried to.

Failed.

His heart thudded against his chest.

The female officer reached down to pull out a pair of handcuffs from her utility belt.

Still kept her stare and the gun bead on him, though.

Norman raised his hands.

‘Okay, okay. ’ His voice came as a rasp. ‘You’ve caught me. ’

That was when it all became too much for Darren.

‘Oh, my God. ’

He fainted. His head hit the tabletop with a forceful clunk.

All three officers glanced at him.

This is your one and only chance, Normy, old buddy. Uncannily, it could have been Duke’s voice in his ear.

Gotta take it.

Don’t wanna shake and bake in The Chair.

Norman stood with his back to the hedge. Its branches were densely woven. It was taller than him.

If he could only. . .

He turned.

Ran hard at the hedge.

‘Stop! ’

Those were the cops’ commands.

Don’tcha know what’s gonna come next?

He was right.

Gunfire.

Bullets smacked into branches at either side of Norman, tearing holes through the greenery as he ran into the hedge. His weight and speed carried him through.

He busted out the other side. Then ran in zigzags to spoil the cops’ aim. In the darkness he saw the bullets fly past him like spits of red fire.

Am I hit? I don’t know. Can’t feel anything.

But then, they say that if you’re shot you don’t feel anything.

At least, not at first.

Natural anesthetic.

In his mind he heard Doctor Pearman’s chilling TV persona. ‘What’s that you say, child? You want anesthetic? Let me tell you, young sir, there’ll be no pain relief on my watch. ’

Norman ran like crazy across the motel site. He weaved round cabins. Didn’t know where he was going. Only knew that he had to get away from the cops.

A figure glided toward him from his right. In this near-darkness it looked like a ghost.

‘Run straight down to the bottom of the plot. ’

‘Dee-Dee? ’

‘Keep running. They’re right behind you! ’

Glanced back.

No shit.

Flashlights.

Gotta run faster.

Beside him the slender nurse ran.

‘Dee-Dee. What are you doing here? ’ he panted.

She flashed him a wild grin. ‘Figured it was time I ran, too. ’

They climbed over the fence. Dee-Dee hauled Norman by the arm, guiding him to a narrow track that ran between cornfields. A vehicle approached from behind.

‘We can’t outrun them, ’ he gasped.

‘I don’t wanna go back. I don’t wanna keep working to keep those old has-beens in booze. ’

Now wasn’t the time to stop and discuss her folly. Norman sprinted.

The vehicle drew closer along the dirt track. Norman expected cruiser lights to whirl at any moment. Maybe the report of a twelve-gauge before the buckshot chewed his back to mincemeat.

The car pulled alongside them. From an open window came a voice:

‘You two gonna jog all the way to Mexico? ’

‘Duke! ’

He glanced sideways through the driver’s open window.

Sure enough. Duke. Beside him, in the passenger seat, Boots.

‘Get in, ’ Duke told them. He stopped the car.

Norman dragged open the rear door of the car. Dee-Dee bundled herself across the seat, her skirt rising up over her thighs.

Norman followed into the back seat, slammed the door shut behind him.

‘Nice uniform, ’ Duke said to Dee-Dee.

Then he floored the gas pedal. The car roared away along the dirt track.

Chapter Twenty-seven

‘I’m enjoying this, ’ Pamela told Lauren as she collected dirty dishes from the cafe table.

‘Really? ’ Lauren smiled.

‘First time I’ve waited tables in a restaurant. ’

Lauren’s smile broadened. ‘You might find that the glamour wears off after a while. ’

‘It’s good honest labor. ’

‘It is that. Filling an empty stomach is God’s work. ’

Pamela glanced askance at the other woman.

Lauren shook her head. ‘No, I’m not particularly religious. But it is satisfying to put full plates of hot, tasty food in front of hungry customers. Oh, table seven needs more coffee, I’ll just—’

‘No, no, ’ Pamela insisted. ‘I’ll get it. ’

‘Who’d have thought it? Nine o’clock in the evening and we get a bus full of pool players. ’

‘They’re good tippers, too. ’ Pamela smiled. ‘I’ll keep that coffee flowing. ’

‘You’re a hero. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. ’

‘No worries. Like I said, I’m loving it. ’

‘Say. ’ Lauren touched Pamela’s arm as she turned to grab the coffee pot from the counter. ‘You know you could make this a permanent arrangement? ’

‘Lauren? You’re offering me a job here? ’

‘You like the work. I like how you handle customers. Kind of go together, don’t they? ’

‘Jeez. . . I don’t really know. . . ’

‘I’m not rushing you. Sleep on it tonight. Okay, looks as if those guys are ready for my apple pie and whipped cream. ’

Man, the cafe was buzzing tonight. Pamela didn’t have the uniform but she wore a dinky white cotton apron with pockets for her order pad and pen. Quickly she sashayed across the cafe to refill the coffee cups of four guys in white shirts. They were appreciative of the attention and made friendly comments. She’d expected some bawdy remarks but then she noticed the badge on the team shirts. Shearville Pentecostal Chapel Pool Team.

All the booths and tables were full to capaci

ty. There must have been forty people on the team bus. But there’d be no rebel-rousing from these guys. They had plenty of appetite for steaks, lasagne, meatballs, pizza, even a Pitsburger or two, but no appetite for cussing or slapping the waitresses’ butts.

The love of the Good Lord was intoxicating enough for them. They were happy with their sodas and coffee.

Pamela moved from table to table. Her offers of a refill were accepted with polite thanks.

She glanced back to see Lauren serving massive wedges of apple pie, topped with a gleaming mountain of whipped cream. Terry worked the griddle. He’d probably cooked more steaks tonight than he had in a week.

When Pamela returned to the counter with the coffeepots Terry glanced back at her. He was a slim, good-looking guy in his twenties, with a red-brown fringe that hung down to his eyebrows. Young-looking for his age. He could have passed for a high-school student with a wisp of dark hairs on his chin.

Probably only had to shave once a week.

He was perspiring hard. His was hot work.

Above the buzz of diners’ conversation Pamela heard the sizzle of beef turning a succulent brown over the lick of flame.

‘Pamela? ’

‘Yes, Terry? ’

‘A car full of people has just turned up. I’m running low on steak – would you bring more from the refrigerator, please? ’

‘Sure. ’

‘Refrigerator ain’t in the kitchen. It’s further out back in the utility. ’

‘Okay. ’ Lightly, she made her way round the back of the counter. This was the first time that she’d actually been into the back of the cafe. It was all new.

Hope I don’t walk into a closet by mistake.

Or the john.

Sight of the grizzled old-timer Hank sitting on the lavatory bowl while chewing a plug of baccy and dumping a fresh load wouldn’t be the prettiest sight of the evening.

The kitchen was clean. It smelled of fresh herbs. There were gleaming stainless steel fixtures complemented by white-tiled walls. On shelves were catering-size cans of cooking oil, vegetables, coffee. Tubs of flour, sugar, salt, spices. Racks of cutlery, copper pans, tableware – a real working cafe kitchen. With Terry cooking behind the counter and Lauren serving apple pie to customers Pamela was alone back here.

Humming to herself, happy to be busy, she breezed through the kitchen.

Ahead lay a door.

She read a sign. UTILITY.

This’s got to be it.

She pushed open the door. It was gloomy inside but she entered nonetheless. Terry needed to start grilling those steaks. The door swung back behind her. With it being night outside suddenly it was absolutely dark in the utility room.

Come to that, there might be no windows anyway.

She reached out to one side where the light switch should be. Groping for a switch in an unfamiliar room isn’t easy.

Should have held open the door to the kitchen before switching on the light.

Goofball.

Might wind up tripping over a pail.

After all you’ve been through, to fall and kill your fool self in a culinary-related accident would be stupid beyond belief.

Unable to see anything but a glimmer of light in the crack of the kitchen door, Pamela set to work, searching with both hands. Her fingers found the wall. They ranged over it like a pair of five-legged spiders.

Though she could still see squat.

A shelf. Maybe the switch was above that.

She ran her hands across it.

Something sharp. Angular.

A plastic tub?

Something soft?

Cloths?

More objects. Cylindrical. Aerosols?

Just don’t touch anything warm and furry.

Fondling mice in the dark isn’t my thing.

She wasn’t frightened. She even chuckled at the thought of it.

Yeah, mice. Right. Like I’d be scared of a little rodent after Rodney nearly killed me.

‘Shit. ’

She’d run her fingers round the obstacles in search of the elusive light switch when she knocked a flat surface with her knuckle. Whatever it was slipped off the shelf to make a light clattering sound on the floor.

Ooops. Hope that wasn’t an antique clock.

After all, it’s good here in Pits. I don’t want to do anything that sours my relationship with a bunch of nice people.

‘Oh, light switch, ’ Pamela breathed, ‘where are you? ’

Got it.

No.

A nail in the wall. Probably where Terry hangs his apron.

Ah!

Bingo!

Found switch – and—

Click.

The lights burst from the darkness with a brilliant intensity.

Pamela blinked.

Then looked down in the hope that a precious Swiss clock wasn’t lying on the concrete floor in a mass of cogs.

Nope.

Just a shoebox and a bunch of. . .

‘Uh, that’s odd. ’

She stared in surprise at what had spilled from the box.

False teeth. Spectacles. Wristwatches.

She bent down. There must have been five or six of each. Those sets of false teeth didn’t look too tasty.

Some stained. Nicotine. Coffee. Red wine.

One bottom set of dentures still had a little green fleck of broccoli stuck between incisors.

The watches.

Mostly cheap everyday watches with plastic casings. A couple worked. Then a bunch of spectacles that could have been worn by a mix of young and old.

Pamela grimaced as she put the spilled contents back into their box.

‘Ooo-eee. ’

Handling a stranger’s eyeglasses was a little on the icky side. Handling a stranger’s false teeth was a supper-raiser. As she quickly picked up the pink and white dentures she gulped down the taste of the chili that she’d eaten earlier. When she’d scooped them all up she quickly rose to her feet.

Returned the box to the shelf that was at her shoulder height.

The things you find.

What’s worse? Stranger’s dentures? Or a used condom?

Pamela pushed the box back onto the shelf. The shelf was a deep one with kitchen-cleaning products lining its front. Concealed behind the regular domestic stuff were another two shoeboxes without lids. One contained sets of car keys. They’d been there long enough to have a spider’s web spun across them to create a dusty membrane over the box.

Saw the keys clearly enough.

Some with personalized key rings.

DAD’S KEYS. . . SOUVENIR OF MIAMI. . . I GOT OUT OF ALCATRAZ. . . As well as those with messages there was a novelty skull fob, a mini plastic hamburger, a red plastic heart.

‘House keys, too. ’

Strange.

The next box contained a dusty array of pens, asthma puffers, cigarette lighters, button badges (JESUS SAVES, MILWAUKEE CANINE LEAGUE, I BELIEVE, PEACE), penknives, a pencil sharpener, one of those little pocket diaries that were smaller than a carton of cigarettes. Pamela could see that was three years old from the gold numerals embossed on a black leather cover.

Curious.

Must be lost property. But can customers misplace so many sets of dentures?

Surely it’s the kind of thing you notice is missing?

Can’t be easy to gum through a pork chop, can it?

Car keys, too. Soon as you got back in your car after leaving the cafe you’d realize they’d gone.

She plucked the diary from the box.

Opened it.

Benny Loscoff, age 10 (and last will and testy mint).

Pamela turned over the dinky little page; the next one was crammed with a child’s handwriting in pencil.

My name is Benny. This is what happened to me and my bud, Gyp, when we ran away from—

Footsteps on tiled floor.

Pamela heard the noise. Suddenly she was flustered; not wanting to be discovered here in the utility room, r

eading this child’s diary from the box full of lost possessions.

She stared at the door to the kitchen.

Heard approaching feet.

Any second the door would fly open and—

Shit.

Hands moving lightning fast, she plucked her order book from the pocket of her apron and threw it on the floor. Then she slipped the tiny diary into the pocket just as—

Just as the door swung open.

‘Lauren, hi. ’

I’m blushing. I know I’m blushing.

‘Pamela? Is there a problem? ’

‘No. . . no. ’ She grinned in an attempt to look relaxed.

‘Terry said you’d come to collect the steak. ’

‘Oh, I was just about to get it, and. . . and I dropped my order book. ’

‘Pamela. It’s there on the floor. ’

‘Oh. ’

‘Behind you. ’

‘Right. Great. Thanks. Can’t see for looking, can I? ’ She picked it up. Stuffed it into the apron pocket. Felt the hard oblong of the diary beneath it.

Hope its shape doesn’t show through the cotton apron.

‘I’ll get the steak, ’ Pamela told Lauren, backing across the utility room to three large refrigerators. One was marked DAIRY. The second MEAT. The third OTHER.

‘No, don’t, Pamela. ’ Lauren’s expression was suddenly hard.

‘Pardon me? ’

‘I’ll bring the steak. ’

‘But I was just—’

‘No, don’t worry. The refrigerator door sticks. ’ Lauren smiled. It looked forced. ‘Got a mind of its own, that door has. ’

‘Oh, right. ’

‘Will you attend table three? They’re ready for ice cream. ’

‘Yeah, sure. Uh. . . ’ Pamela was going to add something inconsequential so as not to appear to have been acting suspiciously, but decided that to say any more would look suspicious. Smiling, she turned to walk away. She noticed that Lauren didn’t make a move to open the refrigerator door while Pamela was still in the room.

She went to serve the ice cream.

The pool players were cheerful. Delighted with a great meal.

Terry was flipping burgers for another bunch of diners who’d just taken a booth.

Pitsburgers for three. Two middle-aged women and an older man with red pimples on his bald head. He wore purple spectacles that reminded her of divers’ goggles.

Pamela was troubled.

Why are those keys and personal effects in the shoeboxes?

What made me take the boy’s diary?

A little voice in the back of her head said: There’s a story in that diary. It’s got facts about Pits. About Lauren, Sharpe and the rest.

Facts you don’t know.

Pamela couldn’t wait until the cafe closed up for the night.

Then she could return to her trailer.

Read the diary.

A gut feeling told her that it was important.

Chapter Twenty-eight

‘Where’d you get the car? ’ Norman asked as Duke drove along the dirt track that ran between cornfields. Duke and Boots rode up front. Dee-Dee and Norman sat – bounced, rather – in the back seat.

‘It’s Darren’s car. ’ Dee-Dee leaned forward in her tight nurse’s uniform. Even in the near-darkness Norman saw the curve of her back.

Sexy curve.

Sexy white uniform in cool, crisp cotton. She smelled good, too. Soap scents, maybe.

‘Darren who? ’ Boots asked. She sat in the front passenger seat with her feet resting casually on the dash, like she was ready to take a nap.

Not being pursued by cops.

Norman remembered the way the bullets had flashed like shooting stars past his head.

Man, close call.

‘Who the fuck cares who? ’ Duke growled. ‘We got a car. That’s the main thing. ’ As he drove he looked back. ‘We saved your ass, bud. ’

‘Thanks. ’ Norman meant it, too. God knows what would have happened if the cops had arrested me.

I’m a cop-killer. If they hadn’t shot me they’d have pistol-whipped me.

Maced me.

Maybe kicked my jonglies black and blue.

The same jonglies that Boots had kissed and ‘Ahhed’ over. . .

Now they were in a sedan tearing through country fields.

‘Are we being followed? ’ Norman asked, keeping his head down.

‘Take a look, wuss-boy. Do you see any lights? ’

Norman glanced back through the rear window. Saw nothing but darkness.

‘Speaking of lights, ’ Dee-Dee asked. ‘You do know you’re driving at night without headlights? ’

‘Who’s the stripper? ’ Duke asked.

‘Hey, I’m no stripper. ’ Dee-Dee sounded stung.

Boots looked back at Dee-Dee as she sat in the back seat. ‘Looks like a stripper. That ain’t a real nurse’s uniform. ’

‘It is. I am a qualified nurse. ’

‘That qualifies you to query my driving methods, miss? ’ Duke asked in a sarcastic-respectful voice.

‘If you don’t switch on the headlights we’ll wind up smeared over a tree trunk. ’

‘Get her, ’ Boots said.

‘Preferred mode of driving, ’ Duke added.

‘At least the cops won’t be able to see us in the dark without lights. ’ Norman risked another peek back.

‘Give the kid a doughnut. ’ Duke casually teased a cigarette from a pack with his teeth. ‘Hey, miss? ’

‘The name’s Dee-Dee. ’

‘Miss Dee-Dee. Do you know where these tracks are headed? ’

‘They run for miles. Only people who use them are farmers. ’

‘You don’t say. ’

‘I’m trying to help, you lummox. ’

‘Lummox. ’ Duke grinned back at Norman. An alarming action since he wasn’t looking where he was driving. ‘You’ve picked up a live one there, boy. ’

Dee-Dee fumed. ‘He didn’t pick me up! ’

‘Say, he’s not boned you yet? ’

‘No! ’

Boots turned round to smirk. ‘He will soon enough. Normy can’t get enough. The guy’s a fucking love machine. ’

Duke laughed. ‘That’s cos he’s been saving it up for years. ’

‘Hey. ’ Norman didn’t like this kind of talk in front of Dee-Dee.

Too personal. Too revealing.

Too damn embarrassing.

She was beautiful. Sexy. Best girl I’ve ever seen.

No, no, no! Don’t want Boots and Duke, the gruesome twosome, ruining any chance of romance.

But:

Boots turned round so that she could look at Dee-Dee properly. Then she whispered, ‘Did you know that until two nights ago Norman here was a virgin? ’

‘That’s none of my business. ’

‘None of my business. ’ Duke guffawed. ‘What’s your business hitching a ride with us? ’

‘Yeah, ’ Boots said. ‘We don’t know you. You might be a weirdo or something. ’

‘Dear God, that’s rich. ’ Norman couldn’t stop the words coming out.

‘Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? ’ Boots was hurt.

Duke snarled, ‘You gotta show respect to your girlfriend, man. ’

‘Boots isn’t my girlfriend. ’

‘Coulda fooled me. The way you were stickin’ it in her the other night I thought you two were on your honeymoon. ’

‘Shut the fuck up, Duke, ’ Norman snapped.

He stared at the big guy’s silhouette as he drove. Then Duke did something that made both Dee-Dee and Norman shout out.

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