Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (40 page)

“You know I do."

“He wants this business in the worst sort of way, June. He wants it more than he wants you.” Tim reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small manila envelope. “I wonder what he will think of you after he sees these photographs?"

She gasped. “You wouldn't."

He laughed. “Try me, baby. Here,” he said, forcing the envelope into her hands. “You can have them. I scanned them into my computer last night. I can print out copies anytime I like. Maybe
you
would like to show the pictures to Frank."

“Tim, please,” she begged. “I'm a virgin. I want Frank to be my first."

“Well I'll be damned. You mean you and Frank haven't done it yet?” The envelope fell to the floor as he grabbed her arm and propelled her towards the bedroom. “I've never popped a cherry. I'm really going to enjoy this."

“Damn it,” she said as she struggled against his force. “You can rape me but I'll de damned if I'll cooperate and I'll report you."

He stopped and dug his fingers into her shoulders. “You won't report anything, bitch, and we both know it, but I won't rape you. You'll beg me to go to bed with you before I'm through.” He pulled a business card from his pocket and jammed it into the pocket of her robe. “My beeper number is on the card. Let me know when you're ready. I'll give you to the end of the week."

They both jumped at the sound of someone knocking. June rushed to the door and threw it open.

“Hey, Lovely Lady,” Frank said as she melted into his arms. “I was worried about you."

Tim's voice startled Frank. “Me too,” Tim said. “She's feeling much better now, Frank. He moved to the door. “I think I'll slip out and leave you two lovebirds alone."

Frank closed the door and picked up the envelope from the floor. June held her breath and released it only when he tossed the manila pouch onto her coffee table.

“Are you really feeling better, June?"

She nodded and sat on the sofa. “I didn't sleep well last night. A good nap was all I needed."

He sat beside her and pulled her close. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“I need to talk with you, June, and I'm not proud of what I'm about to say."

She put her hand on his thigh and gently massaged it.

“I just came from the bank. Mr. Anthony turned me down flat. He wouldn't even look at my figures."

“I don't understand. Mr. Dollar just told me he made you a good offer this morning."

“He made me an offer all right, and, with the exception of one major detail, it's everything we need."

Frank could not look at June as he haltingly detailed Tim's offer.

She edged away just a little and turned so she could see his eyes. “Let me get this straight. The offer is contingent on you ... on you having a relationship with Sandy?"

He nodded.

“I wasn't mentioned?"

He smiled and held her hand. “I don't think Sandy goes both ways, baby."

She threw her arms around him and kissed him ardently on the lips. She continued to hug him as she said, “Frank, you want that business more than anything in the world. Because of that, I want it too. Do what you must. It won't mean anything and I know that."

“The end justifies the means?"

“Something like that. Just promise me one thing."

“What's that, Lovely Lady?”

“I don't ever want to hear any details and always wear a condom. I don't want you catching anything from that witch."

Frank's knuckles were turning white from the tight grip he had on the steering wheel of his pickup. Just take it easy, Frank, he admonished himself as he slowed the vehicle to the legal speed limit. Tim gave you everything you wanted on a proverbial silver platter. She's a good-looking gal. You might even enjoy it.

Uninvited, he pictured June saying, “Frank, you want that business more than anything in the world.” June's okay with this, he thought. She encouraged me to go through with it. “Frank, you want that business more than anything in the world.” Yeah. That's what she said. She understands.

He glanced at the speedometer and again slowed to the legal limit. You're doing the right thing, Frank, he thought. Go on to Charlotte. Find out what everything is going to cost. Then go to Tim and get the money you need. It's all so simple.

“Frank, you want that business more than anything in the world."

Okay, June, he thought. You've made your point. This is what we both want. I love you and I know you love me or you would never have agreed...

“Frank, you want that business more than anything in the world."

He banged his hands against the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes. The truck fishtailed and then slid in a 180-degree arc. “Frank, you want that business more than anything in the world."

He eased the truck to the shoulder of the road and put it in neutral. “Frank, you want that business more than anything in the world."

“No!” he shouted. “You're wrong, Lovely Lady. I want
you
more than anything in the world—not the damned business. I don't want to mess with that Dollar woman.” He took a deep breath, smiled and softly said, “I want to mess with you, and you only."

He rocked his forehead against the steering wheel. I can start small with lawn and garden care, he thought. The Dollars have a lot of influence in this town. They may be able to blackball me. I can pump septic tanks. My uncle can teach me. He may even have a used pumper truck he can sell me. He chuckled as he reclined against the seat. The Dollars influence won't be as great in that business. Every building in Dot is served by a septic tank and when they need pumping, folks aren't too choosy about who they hire to do it.

He felt pressure against his left thigh, glanced down and laughed. He slipped the tape recorder from his pocket, held it to his lips and pressed the record button. “Frank Skinner, Septic Tank Service,” he spoke into the microphone. “I'll pump your shit anytime—nights and weekends extra."

He tossed the recorder in the seat beside him, pushed in the clutch, slipped the gear into low and let the clutch out too fast. The truck lurched and the engine died. He reached for the ignition key and paused as the cassette recorder registered in his peripheral vision. He picked up the recorder and pressed the rewind button. When the tape rewound completely, he punched the play button.

Hello test, hello test, hello test. Testing one, two three.

He fast-forwarded the tape a little.

What's that ugly building across the street?

One of the Dollars few failures. Years ago is was a tobacco auction warehouse, like the building the Discount House is in. The Dollars turned it into a flea market. There were plenty of fleas, but not enough dogs. It closed last year.

Frank bumped the fast-forward button again.

My, aren't you out early this morning.

I couldn't sleep last night. I started clearing a path to your spring at daybreak. It shouldn't take but a couple more days.

And what brings you to my door with sweat glistening on your magnificent body?

I want to see Tim if it's convenient. He wanted to go over my figures before I apply for a loan.

Come in, Frank.

Frank baby, Junior will sleep at least another hour and Tim left a note saying he is having breakfast at the diner this morning. We have the house to ourselves.

Damn it, Sandy. Put your robe back on. I told you this is not going to happen.

The hell it isn't.

Put your hand on my crotch, if you like.

Now that's more like it.

You'll find I'm not aroused. I'm not interested in you, Mrs. Dollar.

Go on to the bank, Frank. I've already talked with Tom Anthony. He won't give you the loan unless you get interested in me immediately.

Frank bumped the tape forward three more times and then grinned with satisfaction as he listened to the recording of Tim Dollar's proposition. He cranked the engine and his heart pounded at the squeal of the truck's rear wheels. He shifted to second and high and floored the accelerator.

In minutes, he turned left at the intersection and right into the Dollars’ driveway.

He slammed on the brakes as he reached the top of the circular drive, spraying gravel onto the lawn. He took the porch steps three at a time and pounded on the front door. He rang the bell and pounded again.

“Open up, Tim Dollar. I know you're in there."

He rang and pounded again.

The door opened a few inches and he saw Greta's face peering at him.

“Good morning, Greta. Are ... are you okay?"

“What do you want, Frank?"

“I need to see Tim now, Greta. It won't wait."

“I'll see if Mr. Dollar is at home.” She closed the door and he heard the lock click.

“I know he's home,” Frank shouted. “His damned Mustang is in the garage."

He paced and fumed. If Tim won't see me I'll break the damn door down, he thought. He paced, fumed, and again pounded on the door.

This time the door opened all the way. “The Dollars will see you in Mr. Dollar's study."

Frank followed Greta into the house. She used the plural, he thought. Good. I'll kill both birds with the same stone.

Tim stood just inside the study door with hand extended. “Frank. It's good to see you. To what do we owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"

“Shut up you bastard,” Frank said as he brushed by Tim and sat at the conference table where Sandra was already seated. He pulled the small recorder from his pocket and pressed the play button.

The expressions on the Dollars’ faces went blank as the recorder played Sandra's seduction attempt, but consternation was evident as Tim's bribery offer blared from the tiny speaker.

“Want to hear it again?” Frank asked.

Sandra pressed her clenched fists to her cheeks as Tim sadly shook his head.

“What do you want?” Sandra hissed.

“I was hoping you could help me with that, Sandy. You and Tim seem to have more experience with blackmail that I do."

Tim leaned back in his chair. “I know when to throw in the towel, Frank. How about the deal you have on tape without the requirement of being Sandy's, uh, companion?” Tim noticed that the red light on the microcassette recorder came on every time someone spoke.

“I intend to sell fertilizer, lime and seeds."

Tim nodded agreement. “The hardware store is in for some competition."

“I've decided I don't want to rent the warehouse and land behind it. I want to buy it."

“I'll make you a fair price,” Tim said.

“Tim,” Sandra snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you?"

“Give up, Sandy. The game is over and we lost. You'll just have to settle for me, now."

She crossed her arms over her chest and slid down in her chair.

“Frank,” Tim said. “Give me the tape and I'll have my attorney draw up the necessary papers in the morning."

Frank stood. “You're not getting the tape, Tim. I'm a man of my word, but I don't trust you. I would have liked the opportunity to earn money from you for services rendered, but I don't want a nickel this way. I don't need your money, Tim. I'm going into the septic tank service business."

“Shitty job for a shitty man,” Sandra mumbled.

“Think about it, Frank,” Tim urged. “I said it was over and it is. From now on, it is strictly business. I haven't agreed to give you anything. You must earn it, like you said."

Frank smiled at the defeated couple. His head was pounding. “I can find my way out,” he said.

As Frank's pickup bounced down the Dollar's driveway, a brown paper bag tied with string fell to the floorboard from its hiding place under the dash.

I should have opened an account when I was at the bank this morning, Frank thought as he reached for the bag that contained his money. Guess I'd better do it now.

Tom Anthony was talking with a teller when Frank entered the bank. “Mr. Skinner,” he said as he quickly approached, “I have been trying to reach you by telephone, but there was no answer at Maggie's house."

Frank shook the banker's hand. “Maggie is at work and I have been out all day. I just dropped by to open a checking account."

“I can handle that for you,” Anthony said as he ushered Frank towards his office. “I want to talk further with you about your loan application. Tim Dollar called and said the two of you have reached an agreement and that he will co-sign a loan with you."

Frank sat across the desk from Anthony and studied the banker's false smile. “I don't want a co-signer,” he said. “I will offer my business and the equipment I purchase as collateral. If that isn't sufficient, I'll seek a loan at another institution."

“You wanted two hundred thousand?"

“One hundred."

“Oh,” Anthony said. “If that's all, I think I can swing it without a cosigner. We need to fill out a few papers and I'll get back to you tomorrow."

June answered her telephone.

“This is Tim. I got your page."

Tears puddle in her eyes. She took a deep breath and said, “Frank told me about the deal you offered him. I urged him to do whatever was necessary to get the loan. He will be servicing your wife, as you require. I ... I appreciate you not telling Frank about the other requirement—the one that involves me."

“You are ready to keep your end of the deal?"

“I have no choice."

“June, you really love that sucker, don't you?"

She did not reply.

“I've given the matter additional thought, June. I'm going to do what I can to help Frank without him servicing my wife as you put it. You're off the hook too."

“I don't understand."

“I always put business before pleasure, dear. Frank's business can save me some serious money. I don't want any roadblocks to his success. From this point on, my dealing with you and Frank, and Sandra's, is strictly business."

Through tears of joy, June managed to say, “Thank you,” before hanging up the telephone.

When June brought him the tab, Frank swallowed the last of his iced tea and caught her hand. “I'm glad you are feeling better, Lovely Lady, but I am bushed. It's been a long day."

“You do look tired, Frank."