Get Some by Pam Ward

Author:Pam Ward [Ward, Pam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2014-05-11T16:00:00+00:00

13

Joan

Trudy’s mother, Joan, finished ironing Mr. Hall’s pants. She brushed them again with a lint brush. She watched the crowd forming a line outside Dee’s.

“Crabs in a barrel,” Joan hissed under her breath. Joan preferred to do her drinking alone. She watched the activity at Dee’s from her big picture window and the velvet-drape safety of home. Those were lowlifes. They were not in her class. She wouldn’t be seen in that rinky-dink bar. But the reality was Joan never went anywhere at all. She was afraid she’d miss Mr. Hall’s call.

Mr. Hall sat and smoked in the dark living room corner. He examined the pants carefully before putting them back on. One by one he slowly buttoned the front of his shirt. He quietly strapped on his watch.

“What time are you coming back?” Joan mildly asked him. She trained her voice to not sound desperate or controlled.

Mr. Hall crushed his cigar back down in the ashtray.

Joan had long since given up on pushing to get an answer to that question. She’d see Hall whenever he got good and ready.

Mr. Hall took his coat. He checked the contents of his wallet. He shoved it in his pocket and gently put on his hat.

“What the hell’s over there that you’ve got to get to so bad?” Joan’s sullen face made her look at least fifteen years older. “All I see is some cheap government cheese–eating roaches. How can you be seen with those crows?”

Mr. Hall almost smiled. He took out his keys. He picked up his Bible and opened the door. He left a giant bottle of scotch on the dining room table and walked out toward Dee’s neon sign.

“Well, go on,” she said loudly once he got out of earshot. “Go and be with those cheap, low-class wenches. All of those spooks make me sick.” What really sickened Joan was the new crop of women. Young women. Young women with flawless, fresh skin. Women with hard butts and breasts and fresh, glistening hair. Women with bodies so firm they looked made out of rubber, like if you squeezed them they’d pop right back out. And the men, men her own age didn’t glance her way now. They all wanted young bodies, wanted to touch those young spines. All of this rattled Joan to no end.

“Why can’t these tramps stay with men their own age?” Joan yanked her drapes closed. She poured the scotch Mr. Hall had brought her. Once he left, she spent half the day waiting like this, wondering if Hall would come back.

As the crowd outside grew louder, the voices eased into her den. Curiosity made Joan pull the drapes open once more. The line outside Dee’s swelled into the lot. She saw pink halter-topped women in black fishnet stockings. Their spiked heels looked like ice picks. Joan lit her smoke and exhaled slowly. Yeah, she thought to herself once again. Hall had his eye on one of them wenches. It was only a matter of time before one of them snagged him.

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