Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (78 page)

“Sorry, Shelly. She's in Atlanta today and tomorrow promoting her latest book. May I help?"

“I don't know—maybe. Did Sandy tell you I'm no longer a stripper at the Crazy Cat Club?"

“She said something about it—yes."

“I need a job, Tim. I'm going nuts sitting around the house. I talked with Sandy about your idea for a club in Dot. She said the two of you have it on a back burner right now. I was hoping I could convince her to turn up the heat."

“Sandy runs hot and cold on various ideas. Her decisions are usually good ones. Right now, she thinks getting into the porn business could hurt our other enterprises. She's probably right."

“And what do you think, Tim?"

“Like I said, her decisions are usually good ones."

“What if..."

“What if what?"

“What if you and Sandy are silent partners. We could let everybody think I own the business."

“Building the type of club we have in mind will cost a pile of money, Shelly. Sandy and I are silent partners in many of the businesses in Dot. I'm afraid it wouldn't take long for folks to figure out that we are the real owners."

“Tim, I ... I really want to do this. You saw Delilah Delight perform. If you'll go along with me on this, Delilah will give you a private performance any time you like and what you saw on stage is nothing compared with what you will experience in private."

Tim laughed. “That's quite an offer, Shelly, but I'm just not interested in being the lover of my wife's female lover."

“She told you about that?"

“No,” he laughed, “but you just confirmed my suspicions."

“It was a one-time thing, Tim. It won't happen again."

“Shelly, Sandy and I are complex people. I have no problem with Sandy's, uh, unconventional interests. The truth is, I'm just not interested in you—not in that way—but if you and Sam are having financial problems I will consider making you a loan. Would that help?"

“No, but thanks anyway, Tim."

Shelly leaned back in the chair and studied Sam's cluttered desktop. There's one more alternative, she thought. I could try the housewife thing. Hell, I used to clean my apartment. I can clean his damn house and wash his clothes. Maybe Mrs. Borders will teach me to cook and plant his damn flower gardens. He is good for Annie. I can buy earplugs to handle his snoring and I can at least try to teach him how to please me between the sheets. She laughed as she sat upright. If I can't teach him, maybe I can pretend I'm having sex with Boyd.

Shelly spent twenty minutes grouping the clutter on the desk into categories—coupons clipped from newspapers and magazines, trade magazines, unopened junk mail, bills, and credit card receipts.

Okay, she thought with pride, I have everything categorized. Now what do I do with it? She searched for an empty drawer in the desk with no success, but, crammed under a stack of old magazines in a bottom drawer, she saw the edge of a yellow legal pad. She pulled it out and her eyes widened in anger and horror as she read his handwriting.

Dear Boyd,

We must move fast. I just found the draft of a letter the bastard is writing to the Mecklenburg County Department of Social Services. He's trying to take my baby away from me! I hate him! He deserves to die! He didn't say where he wanted to go on our honeymoon. He left it up to me. Once before he said something about Myrtle Beach. I can't leave Annie with anyone here. She's too young to understand about honeymoons. Don't wimp out on me, Boyd. It's time for action!

The mingled emotions of fear, excitement, anticipation and dread turned Shelly into a dynamo of activity. She could not sit in front of the TV and watch soap operas. She felt compelled to do something. She began cleaning the house with intensity formerly reserved for stage performances. Each time she checked the computer and found no answer from Boyd she dove back into a new cleaning project to make the time pass faster. Finally, at three thirty, she heard the little ping sound coming from her computer in the study, signifying a new email message was waiting.

Shell,

Myrtle Beach is perfect. We must not arouse his suspicions. Sweet-talk the guy. Be a perfect wife. Make him think you love him. Curl his toes in bed. Let him make the reservations and then let me know where you will be staying. We'll do it the first night you are there. Find a sitter and take Sammy boy on a romantic midnight stroll on the beach. I'll follow and when we get to a deserted area, I'll do it. We'll have to make it look like a robbery, so I'll take his cash and your rings. I'll have to rough you up a little to make it look good. You tell the police that Sammy boy died trying to defend you from a masked robber. It'll work, Shell. Make damn sure you delete all messages from your computer. The police will investigate carefully. If they should search your home, we certainly do not want them to find these email messages!

“You amaze me,” Sam said as he dabbed at the corner of his lips with a paper napkin. “I thought you said you couldn't cook. This chicken-pot-pie is as good as I've ever eaten."

“Mommy didn't cook it,” Annie giggled. “She bought it at Bi-Lo."

“Tattletale,” Shelly playfully admonished the golden-haired imp. “Bi-Lo has a nice deli,” she confessed.

He shook his head as he smiled broadly. “Doesn't matter. I'm still in shock at having come home to a clean house and dinner on the table."

“It's not on the table,” Annie corrected. “It's on plates."

“Annie,” Shelly asked, “how would you like to go to the beach?"

Sam's eyes widened as Annie replied, “What's a beach, mommy?"

“You've seen pictures of the ocean in your books."

“Uh huh, and on TV too,” Annie said.

“Well, the beach is the bank of an ocean."

“Is it sandy like in cartoons?"

“Sure is,” Sam said as he smiled at Shelly. “Am I invited?"

“It was your idea, Sam.” She turned to her daughter. “Annie, people usually go on a special trip after they are married. It's called a honeymoon. Papa Sam and I couldn't go when we were married because both of us were working, but now that mommy has quit her job and Papa Sam has some vacation time coming, we can go."

“You mean it Shelly? You want to go to Myrtle Beach for a honeymoon?"

Shelly nodded, stood and scraped leftovers into a bowl. “Annie, go find Lucky and see if he likes chicken-pot-pie."

“Okay, mommy,” Annie said as she carefully gripped the offered bowl.

Shelly opened the kitchen door and then the door on the porch for Annie and turned to face a grinning husband. She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. “I've been such a pain in the ass,” she said. “I'm sorry, Sam. I'm going to make it up to you. I swear it. I realized this afternoon just how lucky I am to have you and how much I have come to love you."

“Are you trying to kill me for the insurance?"

She froze in his tightly closed arms.

“A man can stand just so many shocks at a time,” he laughed as his hands reached for her buttocks.

“How much farther, mommy?” Annie fretted from the back seat, twenty minutes into the five-hour trip.

Sam laughed as he said, “Goldilocks, we just started. We have a long way to go."

“It'll be dark when we get there,” the child whimpered.

“Yes,” Shelly agreed, “but that's why we decided to leave tonight after Papa Sam got off work instead of waiting until tomorrow morning. That way we can play on the beach bright and early Saturday morning."

“Why don't you try going to sleep, Goldilocks? It's almost your bedtime anyway. When you wake up you will hear the ocean roar,” Sam promised.

“Lions roar."

“Oceans do too."

“I can't sleep sitting up."

Shelly chuckled. “How do you know? You haven't tried."

“I can't reach Lucky."

Shelly unfastened her seatbelt, reached over the seat and retrieved the stuffed animal from the car floor. “You want a cold one while I can reach the cooler?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said, smiling at the sight of his wife's derriere draped over the passenger seat.

She fiddled with the Styrofoam lid and slid back into her seat. She popped the top on the cold can and offered it to Sam.

“Not exactly what I was hoping for,” Sam grumbled.

“The only cold one you're going to have until we get to the beach is Bi-Lo Diet Cola."

“Hmm. Not bad."

As Shelly turned towards the rear seat, she asked, “Annie, would you like a sip?” She smiled. “Can't sleep sitting up, huh?"

With Sam holding one hand and Shelly the other, Annie tentatively placed her foot in the frothing water. “Ooh,” she squealed. “It's cold."

Sam grinned at the little girl. Sun reflecting off her golden curls made her look like a cherub. “You'll get used to it. Come on, Goldilocks. Let's go."

Shelly and Sam lifted her by her hands and lowered her in knee deep water just as a child sized wave approached. “Look out,” Sam said playfully. “Here comes a splat."

Annie squealed with delight as she was lifted, partly by the water and partly by Sam over the gentle wave. The trio played like this for thirty minutes until Annie was comfortable with the unfamiliar action of the Atlantic Ocean.

Returning to ankle deep water, Annie broke loose, ran to their blanket and grabbed the bucket and shovel Sam bought for the trip. Giggling, she returned to the edge of the water, and began to dig into the wet sand.

“Goldilocks, I'm going to take your mommy out deeper. You stay right there. Promise?"

“I promise, Papa Sam."

He took Shelly's hand and pulled her after him.

“I don't think we should leave her, Sam."

“Loosen up, Shelly. She'll be okay."

Reluctantly, Shelly allowed herself to be coaxed into chest deep water and felt her nipples instantly harden.

“Baby, relax,” Sam urged. “We're on our honeymoon. Enjoy."

“I ... I don't feel well, Sam. I have a headache. I didn't sleep much last night.” I didn't sleep at all, damn it. I knew this would be hard, but it's worse than I thought.

He pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers as a large wave lifted, then lowered them. “Shelly,” he said, “you're trembling. I didn't know you were afraid of the ocean."

“I'm not,” she said as she pulled away. “I'm just not in the mood this morning.” She glanced at Annie, then out to sea. A large wave was approaching. She turned her back to it, waited for it to lift her, straightened out her body and pointed her hands towards the shore just as the wave broke, shooting her forward in a perfect body surf.

The ride was exhilarating, but the wave dragged her body against the shell-encrusted ocean floor when its energy weakened. Frowning, Shelly struggled to her feet and waded back to waist-deep water. She squatted until the swirling foam reached her neck, and pulled down the cups of her bathing suit, letting the ocean water reclaim it's sand and tiny shells.

Sam joined her and for the next hour, they helped Annie build a sandcastle.

“Young lady,” Sam said. “You built a masterpiece. That's the most beautiful sandcastle I've ever seen."

“You and mommy helped."

Sam chuckled as he stood up. “You're right. We make a good team and I want a picture of our handiwork."

Shelly watched Sam walk to their blanket and posed with Annie as he took pictures from several angles. “Now you take one of me,” he said to Shelly, offering her the camera.

She obeyed but feared her shots would not turn out. Her hands were trembling furiously.

“Hey, mister,” Sam shouted to an older gentleman passing by. “Will you take a couple of pictures of us with our magic castle?"

The baldheaded man broke into a big smile. “Be glad to,” he said as he took the camera from Shelly.

After thanking the stranger, Sam pointed out to sea. “Look, Annie—a fishing boat."

“That's a big boat,” Annie said, squinting into the morning sun. “Why are all those people hanging off the side?"

“They're fishing,” Sam explained.

“Are there fish in the ocean like in Junior's lake?"

“Sure there are,” Sam laughed. “Some of them are bigger than you are."

“Can we go fishing, Papa Sam? I want to see a fish that's bigger than me."

Sam dropped to his knees beside the little girl and pointed north. “Can you see that pier?"

Annie squealed with delight. “It looks like Junior's pier."

“People fish in the ocean from piers as well as from boats. If you like, we'll try it one day before we leave. Okay, mommy?"

Shelly absently nodded her assent. “Sam, she needs more sun block."

“I don't like it,” Annie said. “It's sticky."

Sam playfully poked her in the tummy. “Yes, it is, but if you get a sunburn you won't be able to enjoy the rest of the week at the beach.” He lifted the little girl and ran towards the water with Shelly tagging behind. “Let's get the sand off our hides."

After applying a fresh coat of sun block to Annie's already bronze skin, Shelly applied the lotion to Sam's back. She marveled at the rippling muscles not previously noticed. She lay on her stomach as he rubbed a coating of the sunburn preventative on her shoulders and back. She felt a cold glob hit the back of her right thigh and then his warm hands, spreading it over the muscles that still ached occasionally. His kneading hands, combined with long hours of anxiety and lack of sleep, sent her drifting under the warm summer sun.

Thirty minutes later Shelly's eyes fluttered open. Lazily she watched Sam and Annie playing in the sand a few feet away. Suddenly, she was wide-awake and sat up with a jerk. Sam lay on his back in the sand and Annie was burying him.

Shelly scrambled to her feet, rushed to his side, dropped to her knees and kissed his smiling lips.

“You okay, honey?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. I, uh, have to go back to the room for a minute. I should have left off that last cup of coffee at breakfast."

Shelly controlled herself, but when she was out of their sight, she broke into a jog. She avoided the hotel lobby, not wanting to wait on the elevator, and raced up the outside steps to their fifth floor, ocean front room. Tears blurred her vision as she searched the telephone book for the proper way to make a collect long-distance call. She sighed noisily as she heard Boyd answer and agree to accept the charges.