Fiction: The Drink

By June Trop

Chapter One: Late Afternoon, August 1975

“What are you deaf? I told you to get me another drink!”

“Hey, just shut up,” I muttered.

“Say that again and you’re gonna get a real ass-whooping.”

“I’m sick of you sitting around this dump, carrying a mean load, and ordering me around.”

“Oh yeah? And what else should I be doing in this fleabag joint? I was good enough for you when I got my Class A andwas driving over-the-road. You never complained when I was bringing home the gravy. It’s not my fault the company went belly-up.”

“You think I like it in this attic cage, soaking up the clatter and fumes from Fang Face’s auto repair shop? Or slinging hash while jiggling my tits for chump change?”

“I know. I know. Things are tough right now. But just gimme a little more time, and our luck will change. You’ll see. Once I pay off that cop in Nashville, I’ll be able to get another trucking job, and everything will be right with us again.”

“You keep saying that, but why the hell did you have to goand bust his head anyway?”

“Hey, quit squeezing my balls, will you? Like I keep telling you, it just happened.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You and your barroom brawls.” I let out an extravagant sigh, knowing what his doofus brain didn’t, that he’d never get ahead of that beef. “Okay, okay. I know you’ve been trying. It’s just that I never expected us to be in this Upstatehovel so long. Keerist, it’ll be a year come Labor Day.”  

He nodded into the silence between us. 

“Hey, come ’ere,” he said with a jerk of his head.

Biting his lip, he pulled me in close enough to trace the curves of my body. His hardness rose against me as I inhaled his drunkenness. And then in a huskier tone, he said, “Get me another drink, will you? Just not too much ice this time.” 

“Oh, go fuck yourself.”

He shook his head and murmured to his knees. “I warned you, bitch.” Then he got up, his mouth crimped tight, took a step toward me, and fired a slap at my left cheek.

A hot knife ripped through my face.

A trickle of blood forked down my cheek.

I leaned against the wall ’til I was sure I could stand, drew in a lungful of air, and let out a shriek shrill enough to echothrough the building.

“Go drink with your bubba buddies. Try smacking them around. See how they—”

“Go to hell!”

When he slammed the door, I doubled over. A racking sob rose in my chest and expired in a long, low moan.

#

Lately Duke’s every word has felt like a slap. But ofcourse, he never used to be like that. I remember that swelteringday in June three years ago when he drove past in his red Chevy C10 Fleetside, his square, stubble-smudged jaw and deep cleft chin hanging out the window. I was dragging my ass home from school, my hair a frizzy tangle on the back of my neck. And then the squeak of his brakes, the honk of his horn, and his sun-bronzed forearm beckoned me, the twists of damp hair crawling outa his tank-T.

“Come ’ere, gorgeous.” His voice was slow and thick like honey. “Looks like you need a ride and a drink.”

Or did he say a drink and a ride?

Lightheaded from the sun glare, the heat baking through the soles of my sandals, I must have responded with the wan smile of the truly zonked. My body was so slick with sweat that when he unlocked the passenger door and I scrambled into the cabin, my clothes stuck to me like they’d been sprayed on.

“Whew,” I said, plucking at the front of my shirt. “I’m a real mess.”

“What’s your name, cutie?”

“Florence.”

“No way. Not with those sparks curling around your face,I’m gonna call you Flame.”

He wasn’t the first one to liken my copper-colored hair to a fire. When I was a little girl, my mother told me that the sun shining on my hair once spooked a horse.

With that, he slid his arm across my tits to open the glove compartment and grabbed a hip flask of Grey Goose.

“Ready for a kick?” His words blew into my ear like a hot wind.

Why not? I didn’t exactly have a place to go. My parents had gotten divorced. Then my mother died of breast cancer nine,ten years later. So, I lived with my father—if you call that living—on the outskirts of town on a weed-strewn lot in Sugar MapleTrailer Park. A hundred a month for the mosquitoes, the rotten-egg stench of the swamp, and the connections for water,electricity, gas, and septic.

My father was a traveling salesman. You know, a door knocker going from city to city peddling everything from encyclopedias to vacuum cleaners and whatever else he could hustle. Tossed from job to job, he’d say it was because his “executive potential” was a threat to management. My guess was he was hanging around too many school yards during recess. Anyway, I was better off without him pestering me with his midnight needs and smothering me with his boozy breath.

But lemme tell you more about that day riding around withDuke. By evening, we were so shit-faced, him making me laugh whenever he revved his engine to rile the old fogeys. You know the ones with their blue hair, pleated faces, and sandpaperedvoices. They’d be sitting on junk-ass, wraparound porches, sucking the inside of their cheeks, probably rumbling farts like my mother did before she passed.

That was before he kissed me. It felt like a brand. Then he unbuttoned my shirt, unhooked my bra, freely inspecting me, touching me. Soon we were just mouths and hands, tongues and fingers.  

Once we hit the mattress on the bed of his truck, he pulled off my panties, buried his face between my thighs, and finding my pleasure kernel, brought me to the edge. When I thought I’dhave a seizure, he lay on top of me, opened me wide, and drove into me. I followed his rhythm until I fell off that edge into waves of ecstasy, and the world slipped away.

After I reclaimed my legs, we watched the moon ride up the sky while he spoke to me of his plans and dreams like no one ever had before. The next day I forged my father’s signature so I could quit school and ride with Duke to Charlotte, where he’dtrain for his Class A Commercial Driver’s License.

 

Chapter Two: The Next Afternoon

I was trudging up the narrow steps that zigzagged up the side of our building. With the pockets of my uniform jingling with coins, I barely heard him. 

“Florence? Is that your name? Helloo?”  

His nasal voice almost sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it for sure ’til I turned around. Glancing down, I saw the trash at the back of the building and this wonky-legged fella, scrawny like a stray dog, roofing his eyes as he looked up from the driveway. Oh shit, it was Fang Face, our bucktoothedlandlord.

I’d paid the rent so why the hell was he bothering me? All I wanted before Duke got back from the liquor store was to rest my aching dogs, count my tips, and add them to my stash in theCheerios box I kept hidden under the bed. Then with a little luck, I’d have enough left at the end of the week to deposit a few bucks in the Community Savings and Loan. I’d started that account before Duke got laid off, when the moolah was flowing and the bank was giving away toasters, but I still managed to puta little away each week.

“Helloo?” he hollered up again. “Sorry miss, I don’t know your name.”

“Florence but people here call me Flame.”

“Can I come up? Just for a minute.”

Him being the landlord, I figured I had to say yes. “Yeah, but I—”

He joined me on the landing faster than shit through a goose. Even though it was his dump, it still shamed me, like whenever I used to bring a new friend to the trailer. And of course, when I opened the door, the stinky heat hit me like a sledgehammer.

“Excuse me,” he said, “I don’t mean nothin’, but I heard yascreamin’ yesterday, and I uh just wanted to make sure ya were—”

Keerist, another do-gooder! I’d had enough of them when I was in school. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine—”

“I just wanted to—Oh, my God! The other side of your face is like a balloon.”

“No, no, it’s nothing. Clumsy me, I banged my face on adoor.”

“Wait! That can turn nasty. I’ll get my first aid kit. Got one in the shop—”

“No, please don—”

But the little dickhead was gone, leaving me to stare at the closing door and hear the slap of one foot and the drag of theother like a pack of cripples racing down the steps. 

The next thing I knew we were sitting on the couch, his greasy hand pressing a cold pack to my face and a whiff of motor oil up my nose.

It was the smell I winced at, but he must have thought he was hurting me because he spoke to me so timid and gentle-like.“There now, it can’t be that bad. You’ll see the swellin’ll be gone before ya know it, and ya gonna look just as good as ever.”

What a sticker shock! This guy’s a pussy cat.

I smiled and gave him that long, slit-eyed look, wiggling to lift the hem of my skirt, tossing my hair, and then casting down my gaze like a nun. I could feel his hungry eyes roam over my body, devouring me as they burned with lust. That power to excite him was just what I needed to know. “You know, that feels real good,” I said, my voice fluttering like the wings of a moth. “Thanks, whatever your name is.”

“Benny, but folks around here call me Bunny, on accountof my teeth. Kids in grade school tagged me that, sayin’ I lookedlike a bunny rabbit.”

Sure enough, his teeth were so bucked he must have never closed his mouth. But my face was so sore, I couldn’t laugh even when I pictured him with those Bugs Bunny ears.

“Got the repair shop downstairs. Cars, trucks, motorcycles, you name it. Even bicycles, and skateboards, anythin’ with wheels. I used to have a fillin’ station here before they went and finished the highway. The construction got stopped for a while’cause it goes through a bird sanctuary, but now they say the road runs all the way to California. Anyways, with the traffic bypassin’ me, the gas business dried up. So now I just change oil, fix tires, a few fender benders, car inspections, stuff like that. I sure miss the old days though when I was rakin’ it in. Now I’m just kinda stuck, hopin’ somethin’ll change but knowin’ it won’t.”

“So you been here awhile?”

“Yup. Grew up just over the mountain ’til Ma and Pop done got killed. Car accident on the hairpin turn. Anyways after that, I stayed in foster homes, one after the other ’til I was sixteen. Hated it. So one day I stole the money the missus kept in the bread box and up and left. Ran as far as I could on this bus outaKingston. Went to Newburgh, a place where no one knew me,and I could get away with sayin’ I was eighteen. Began workin’in a gas station. Two years later I came up here where I got thisplace dirt cheap.

“I can tell by the way you talk though you ain’t from ’round here.”

“I came north with Duke before he got laid off from trucking. A buddy told him life was easy here. Figured he could save up for his own cab while I waited on tables. I got this job at Emil’s working lunch from 11 to 3 so we could take the fast track outa here.”

“Well, I’m glad to meet ya, Flor—I mean uh Flame,” he said after packing up his first aid kit. Offering me his hand, blackened fingernails and all, he added, “I kinda always wanted to uh, get to know ya. Ya know, you’re a real looker, and I’m a little shy. Ma thought it was ’cause when I fell off that swing,my leg healed funny. Anyways, I hope I can visit ya again.”

The weight of feeling trapped that had been pressing on my chest suddenly got lighter. 

 

Chapter Three: Late Afternoon a Week Later

“Hey Flame, it’s Bunny. Been thinkin’ ’bout ya. Heard Duke drivin’ off last night. Him bein’ away, I figured ya could use some company.”

Jeeze, another hungry dog outside my door. Just like dearold dad. 

“Hold on a minute! I’m not dressed. Just got home from thediner. Need to strip before my clothes get stuck on.”

With the faintest rattle of the doorknob, the door groaned open and then wheezed closed.

“It’s okay. Don’t go to no trouble. I’m just waitin’ hereinside the door. Eyes closed, promise.”

I put on the robe I called Black Bliss—I bought it to be with Duke—and met Bunny at the door. “Excuse my appearance.” I let the smallest sigh escape my lips. “But I didn’t wanna keep you waiting.”

He gasped and would have swallowed his teeth if I showed any more cleavage. 

“So come on in. Duke’s in Nashville,” I warbled. “Had to clear up some trouble there. Hey, whatcha got?”

“Somethin’ for ya. Sorta won it.”

“Oh show me! I love surprises.” I let my voice quiver with enough excitement to sound sincere. “It’s champagne. Didn’t exactly win it, but I thought I’d say that, so ya’d think I was lucky. Anyways, here it is. Hope ya like it.”

I had trouble reading the label, but he said that’s because it was in French. I never had anything French before. 

“They showed me in the liquor store how to open it.” Reaching into the pocket of his scruffy overalls, he pulled out a paper towel. Then he peeled off the neck foil, twisted open the wire cage, covered the cork with the towel, and after a few turns of the bottle, the cork worked its way out. “Will ya look at that!” he said with a shake of his head and a look of wonder. 

I got some glasses, the NY Yankee ones Duke gets from the Esso station for filling up. Moving to the couch, I set the glasses on the coffee table, topped them off, and then we clinked and drank.

I took a gulp, feeling a tickle at the back of my throat and a warm trail down to my belly. When I looked over at Bunny, a thread of spittle dangled from his teeth, and his face glistenedwith sweat. When only the foam coated the bottom of his glass, I poured him a refill, and we clinked again.

His voice began to thicken after the second drink. “I used to have a crush on this here red-headed girl in tenth grade, but I like you better ’cause you don’t make fun of me.”

“I want you to hold me,” I said, snuggling close enough to press my tits against the bib of his overalls.

“I think I’m in love with ya, Flame. I even dream ’bout ya,’bout being together and stuff. I used to wait to catch a glimpse of ya, but then I was afraid I’d just stare. I even think ’bout kissin’ you.” He licked his lower lip and unwrapped a shy smile. “Can I? Please?”

When he pressed his kisser on mine, his fucking rabbit teeth nipped my lower lip. So I told him to open his mouth and teased him with my tongue. By then my robe had puddled to the floor, and his hands were all over me. With his breathing getting hoarse, his heart hammering wildly, all it took from me was a soft cry and a murmur of excitement for him to blast off.

Yuk, now he’s gonna talk my ear off.

“I wanted to be with ya from the moment I saw ya,” he admitted in a trembling voice. “That’s why I was so happy when Mabel—she’s the lady who done run the ad for me in exchange for fixin’ her fender-bender—”

“And when was tha—?” I whispered in a honey-dipped tone, letting my words trail off into a sigh.

“When she ran the ad for rentin’ out the attic. I lived up here before movin’ to the back of the shop. Too much trouble carryin’ things up and down all day long. So I was gonna use the space for storage when she said I should rent it out and she’d take care of all that for me. As a favor, ya know, for fixin’ her car. So that’s how come I didn’t get to meet ya, but once I seen ya, I sure wanted to. Get together I mean.”

If my lip didn’t hurt so much, I might have laughed thinking how Duke would react if he found me and Bunny hooking up. But he’d never believe it anyway. He’s such a dolt he don’t even realize that cop’s gonna take him for all he’s worth and give him a last laugh in return.

“Well, you never know,” I said. “I got a few dollars saved. Maybe me and you can work something out.”

When he left, I leaned against the closed door, shut my eyes, and let an idea take shape.  

 

 

Chapter Four: Late Afternoon, The Next Day 

“Hey Bun, is that you under there?”

The smell of fumes and chemicals flicked at my nose.

“Sure is, darlin’. Just finishin’ an oil change. Uh, gimme a minute.”

Oh, now I’m his darling. Next he’ll be slapping me around if I don’t make him a drin—”

“Just ’bout done.” Rolling out from under the car, he was a sweaty mixture of oil and grease. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked,standing up, holding onto me with his eyes.

“I thought I’d stop by and see what you do all day.”

“Lots a’ things. I’ll show ya.”

“Like what’s that?” I asked, pointing to his workbench.

“What’s what?”

“Those chemicals. That blue stuff.”

“Oh, that’s a dye to make my own windshield washer. Ya know, to save money. All ya need is a bottle of water, a mug of alcohol, and a spoonful of dish detergent. That’s it really, and oh yeah, then I add that blue dye, a few drops so it looks store-bought.”

“But how can that be cheaper when you still have to buy the alcohol?”

“That’s just it. It ain’t gin or vodka. It’s rubbin’ alcohol, the kind ya get in Woolworth’s.”

“Really? Then how come folks buy the expensive stuff?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Ya drink this here stuff, and it’ll kill yasure as shit rolls downhill.”

I put my nose to the open jug. “Sure smells real enough.”

“It’s real all right. And it’ll get you drunk, but at least yadie happy.” His chuckle changed to a cough as soon as he saw his remark made me uneasy. “Hey wait. Ya leavin’ already? Thought ya wanna look around.”

“All of a sudden, I feel tired. You know, it’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, I noticed you’re a little late comin’ home from work.”

“That’s because I went to the insurance agent across from Emil’s.”

“How come? Ya ain’t got no car.”

“Well, maybe I’m thinking about getting one. But lemmego now. I sure am beat.”

“Okay, darlin’. Duke comin’ home tonight?”

I let his question float in the air while I trudged up the stairs like I was worn out, but the fact is I never felt more alive.  

 

Chapter Five: Early Evening

Before I even counted up my tips—hey, before I even watched the coins roll over the table’s cigarette burns—I rewarded myself with a couple of beers. Okay, so I got a little juiced, but then I went for the Cheerios box. I called it my later-gator, too-da-loo, get-out-of-jail-free box, names I’d dream up and giggle over before falling asleep. Where the hell did I hide that thing? “Where are yooooo?” I called as I dove under the skirt of the couch. Nope… Hmm. Maybe in the oven… Nooo… Oh yeah, under the bed. Here it is. Keerist, I better get my head on straight.

But there was no heft, no jingle when I pulled it out. Just a squish of cardboard and a rattle of wax paper. 

Damn it! So, that’s where the slimeball got the bread to go to Nashville. Didn’t even ask. Didn’t even tell me. Just left me broke. 

Like he’d struck me again, I had to steady myself against the edge of the bed as the rage swept through me. Then, just like when my father stole the money I’d lifted from my teachers—my running away fund—I gritted my teeth and swallowed the bile ’til the tingling in my hands eased. 

Hey, I better chill out before I go bonkers.

It must have been close to nine o’clock when a noise snapped my eyes open. I pushed myself off the couch and onto my feet. Oh Keerist! It was Bunny’s slap and drag coming up the steps.

Opening the door, I saw him on the landing, his face plastered with a shit-eating grin.

“Hey, darlin’. Ya wanna go for pizza?”

“Nah, not tonight.”

“Come on. It’s cooler now. My treat, ya know.”

“Thanks, Bun, but I got a lot on my mind.”

“Can I help?”

“No, Bun.” But, of course, he could. “I got something bothering me, what with Duke coming home tomorrow. Look, I may as well tell you. Come ’ere and sit next to me. I never didbang my face on that door. Duke’s been hitting on me real bad. Truth is I’m afraid he’s gonna kill me one of these days with that temper of his.”

That’s when I sunk my head into my hands, swallowed hard, and took in a ragged breath. Groaning into my palms, I snuck in a few whimpers and gulps, sputters and sobs. At last, before I sounded too much like a drowning animal, I scrunched my face, lifted my chin, wiped away some imaginary tears, and hiccoughed to a stop.

“Oh, I knew it; I just knew it. He don’t deserve ya, bein’ so beautiful and all, and workin’ so hard. I see how tired—”

“And you know what? The more I think about it, the more I see me and you, we’re the ones in love. We’re the ones meant to be together.”

“Oh, darlin’. I been knowin’ that a long time.”

“So come on now, hold me, and tell me what to do.”

Putting his arms around me, he rocked me back and forth while I moaned into his shoulder, all the while feeling like I was clinging to a broomstick.

“We could run away together. I mean right now before he—”

“That could work for one beautiful night,” I said, while fingering the snaps on his overalls, “but then he’d come looking for us.”

“Ya think he’d really—”

“Listen, Bun, we need to get outa here for good. I have an account at Community Savings. Maybe we could use that money to relocate your garage, you know, to the highway, and I could help you run it, keeping the books, answering your phone. . . .Hell, I’d even pump the gas. We could live right there—”

His eyes opened like saucers. “You got that kinda dough?”

“Well, maybe not that much, but…”

“But what?”

“I took out a life insurance policy on Duke.”

A stunned silence.

“You what?” He looked at me with the eyes of an astounded animal. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m talking self-defense, Bun. Like I said, otherwise, he’s gonna kill me one of these days.”

Another silence, this one thicker than before.

“Uh, how much does it pay?” he asked, sweat beading on his forehead.

“Twenty thousand.”

“Oh my God.”

“Cash.”

I undid the bib on his overalls and slid my hand inside.

He was beginning to harden.

“But look, with Duke outa work, I can’t keep up the payments forever. They want fifteen clams a month. Every month we wait, it costs us big time.”

“Is this the only way? Ya know, for us to be a real husband and wife?”

“Yes, Bunny. It’s the only way.”

I coached him to slip off my panties and guided his finger to my hole. Then I unzipped his fly, and lying back, spreading wide, I wrapped my legs around him and eased him inside me.After a push and a few grunts, his heat surging, his body hardening to a stone, he cried out in his moment of ecstasy. Then, his wilted cock flopped onto my thigh like a dead fish, and he fell asleep instantly, a wet snore whistling outa his mouth.

 

Chapter Six: Next Afternoon

Bunny and I got busy as soon as I got home from the diner. I changed outa my uniform into a pair of jeans, counted my tips, and started a new stash, this time in a jelly jar I hid behind the toilet. Bunny was spilling out the vodka in Duke’s Grey Goose bottle.

“Hey, save a little so I can rinse out his glass afterward.”

“You sure think of everythin’, don’t ya, darlin’!”

He poured a little in a mug, put it in the refrigerator, and refilled the bottle with the rubbing alcohol. “Ya sure he ain’tgonna walk in on us?”

“Relax! He called this morning from Charleston, saying he was gonna stop for breakfast, catch some z’s, and then drive straight through. Earliest he’ll get here is about five or six. We got plenty of time.”

#

About 5:30, the blare of Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues” and the familiar spit of gravel from Duke’s truckannounced his homecoming. After checking my makeup, myeyes made a quick sweep of the room: the bottle of Grey Gooseon the drainboard, some lime wedges to hide any odd taste, and a pint of cold noodles from the Chinese take-out.

With heavy footfalls, Duke dragged his ass up the steps. 

Gripping the doorknob to control the tremor in my hands, I opened the door wearing a phony smile, a luscious look, and the Black Bliss. “Hey handsome, d’you miss—?”

He stopped me with a flick of his hand. “Not now, babe, I’m beat.” 

“Oh, I didn’t mean that. I’m just saying I’m glad to see you. Anyway, how’d things go?”

“What things?” he asked, his face turning a splotchy red.

“Your trip to Nashville. D’you see the cop?”

“Never mind him,” he muttered. “I gotta make some plansbefore that bastard screws me royally.” 

“Well, just set right there,” I said, pointing to the couch. “I got all your favorites ready.”

“Really? No hard feelings?” He fixed me with a measuring look as we sat down.

“What d’you mean?” I said, still playing the bimbo but counting his hours ’til checkout.

“You must know by now I emptied your cereal box.”

“Oh that. Ancient history. Besides, I figured you needed itand in the end, it’d help both of us.”

His gaze dropped to the coffee table. “Well,” he said with a shrug, “I felt kinda bad about it.”

Not buying your shit anymore, mister. This time, you’re going to the farm. “Forget it. You’re home. Let’s celebrate. I’ll set out some of those noodles and fix your drink—I know, not too much ice—and I got a lime to freshen the flavor.

“Cut out the fancy stuff. Just gimme the drink.” 

I pretended not to hear him. Instead, I reran every injury and wrong he’d ever done me.

#

“What are you, deaf? I said no lime!”

“It’s supposed to freshen the flavor. Read it on a pamphlet in the liquor store. It’s the way rich folks drink it.”

“Tastes funny, kinda sweet.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll make the next one different. Just gimme a minute so I can put out the noodles.”

“What for? Just get me the fucking drink!”

“Tall one coming right up!”

By the time he finishes his first one, he’ll be too shit facedto know the difference between Grey Goose and goose shit.

#

I walked over to the window to watch the fading daylightwhile Duke finished his second drink.

“Hey, I’m feeling kinda wasted on jusht these two—”

“Must be because you’re tired. All that driving. You shouldhave had some noodles,” I felt his forehead like a nurse onGeneral Hospital. “You got a headache?”

“I feel like I’m gonna puke,” he answered, rubbing his belly as he rode out the pain. “You got any ginger ale?”

Ha! He used to think I was a punching bag. Now, the sonovabitch thinks I’m a soda jerk. “What the hell you need that for?”

Whatever he said, his words came out in clumps of gibberish.

Keerist, how long is this gonna take? 

I walked over to the window again. The shadows had deepened. 

Tsk, tsk. His last sunset and he don’t even know it.

Later, while I was eating the noodles, he started gagging, shooting his sour puke all over, spattering the walls, fouling the whole room.

I gotta hand it to Bunny-Boy’s windshield washer factory. He knew what he was talk—.

Oh, Jeeze! Now he’s doubling over.

“You okay, sweetheart?” I asked, leaning in close in a voice coated with nectar.

“Knives …”

“Come on, Duke. Lighten up. You’re not dying.” Yet.

By the time the darkness was complete, he’d broken out in a sweat.

A deep groan came from deep in his soul.

And then, clutching his belly, he dropped to the floor like a bag of sand.

 

Chapter Seven: Three Weeks Later

“Shut up already!”

“I just wanna know when we can we start livin’ our future.”

“Look, they’re still investigating, saying a drinker like Duke shouldn’t have keeled over so fast. And then we gotta wait for the insurance money.”

“It ain’t right. I move upstairs thinkin’ it’d be a week, maybe a couple at most. But here we still are. Ya always havin’your monthlies and crabbin’ all the time. I’m thinkin’ like yadon’t—”

“Cut it out. Like I keep telling you, I’m doing my bes—”

“—Even love me. Like how come you won’t put me on your bank account? That way, we could at least go lookin’ for a new place.”

Jeeze, at least Duke—

A tire squeal.

“Hey, you expectin’ anybody?”

“No. Why?”

“Heard a car pull up.”

“It’s awful late.”

Slow, heavy footsteps and a sharp double knock announced the arrival of two cops.

Bunny opened the door to the pair I named Mutt and Jeff:the tall, gangly one with a sallow face and long nose, and a short, barrel-chested thug with cold metallic eyes.

“Hey, Bunny.” That was Mutt.

“Hey yourself. You guys want some coffee?”

“No, we’re gonna be quick.”

“This here’s my girlfriend, Flame. Anyways, that’s what I call her. Real name’s Florence.” There he goes with that shit-eating grin.

“Glad to meet you, Florence,” said Mutt, extending a limphand.

“So, sit down fellas, and tell us what’s up.”

“Just clearing things up.” That was Mutt again.

“Sounds good,” said Bunny, rubbing his palms together.

Jeff’s eyes skewered me right away. “Well Florence, just tell us what happened that night.” 

Hadn’t I already told them a million times?

“Nothing to tell,” I said with a shrug. Keerist, those snakeeyes drilling into me. “He drove all day coming back from Charleston, bounded in like a stray dog, his tongue hanging out for a drink. I told him to eat—got those noodles he likes, you know, from the strip mall—but he just wanted to drink and go to bed. Said he didn’t feel too good. When he finished his second drink—I kept telling him to take it slow—he just keeled right over. Strangest thing I ever saw.”

“Did he leave you anything?”

“His Chevy C10. That’s all. I’ve been keeping us alive waitressing at Emil’s ’til he could get another trucking job.Didn’t want over-the-road anymore. The separations were too hard, especially on me, missing him like crazy all the time. Sohe went to Nashville to sign off, drove up to Charleston, and then home the next day.”

“And what about you, ma’am?”

“Me?”

“Your money.”

“Just a savings account at Community, you know, for a rainy day.

“There she goes being modest. She works so hard so we can use that money to make a new start.”

“Is that so?” asked Jeff, looking cornerwise at Bunny.

“Once we get the life insurance money, we’re goin’relocate my business and run it together.”

“Life insurance money? Oh Bun, that’s a dream of your own making.”

“What’re ya talkin’ ’bout, darlin’?”

“You kept telling me to take out a policy on Duke, but why would I do that?”

“But you said…”

“Well folks, we’re gonna call it a night. Thanks for your cooperation, and ma’am, we’re sorry for your loss.” 

I followed them with my eyes ’til the door closed.

#

Two days later, they were back, their foreheads wrinkled, their lips pulled tight. 

I watched Mutt’s Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. And then he spoke, his voice flat, his lips slowly forming each word: “Benny McGuire, we’re arresting you for the murder of Duke Holloway…”

I didn’t need to hear the rest. They’d matched the alcohol to the kind Bunny stocks in his shop, identified his fingerprints on Duke’s bottle of Grey Goose, and heard from Mabel that he told her he’d do anything to marry me. They figured Bunny cozied up to me, believing Duke had enough life insurance to relocate his failing business. Owning the property, he had a key to our apartment, and being on the premises, he had easy access to the liquor when we were out. 

Poor Bunny. You should have seen him, squinting in blank amazement, his eyes asking me why they were taking him away. 

Anyway, I put a For Sale sign on the truck. Figured Bunny could use the proceeds in the commissary at Napanoch’scrossbar hotel. Oh well, at least he’ll be close to home. Then I gathered a few things along with the jar behind the toilet and my bankbook. I withdrew the cash from Community Savings and got on a bus outa Kingston, the one headed straight for the City. 

Closing my eyes, figuring I could always jiggle my tits, I heard a seductive voice lick at my ear. “Howdy there, little lady.Mind if I sit down? You look like you could sure use somecompany and maybe a drink besides.”

June Trop has dedicated her career to the art of storytelling. As a professor of teacher education, she centered her research on the ways teachers convey and construct practical knowledge through narrative. Now an associate professor emerita, she channels her passion into writing, crafting The Miriam bat Isaac Mysteries, a series set in first-century CE Roman Alexandria, as well as short stories rooted in the 20th century. Her award-winning work includes The Deadliest Thief, which was a finalist for the Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award.