Brokenhearted in Bakersfield
8 - SHE HAD A KIND OF CHARM ABOUT HER
While the dust settled
following the attorney’s abrupt departure, I tried closing my eyes in the hope
of being lulled back to the brink of a nice siesta, when my spell of peace and
tranquility was yet again disrupted.
“Biiiiiiiilly!”
My butt cheeks clenched at the ragged screech of Little Billy’s mother, Edna
Peevy, her voice like fingernails scraping across the blackboard of life.
“Biiiiiiilly! Biiiiiiilly Peevy! You answer me right now, you sneaky little
bastard! Where the hell are you?”
I turned my head in Edna’s general direction. “Hey, Edna,” I tried to sound nonchalant.
“What the hell’re you looking at?” she slurred back.
Although Edna had a kind of charm about her, it was undeniable she’d seen
better days. Her unwashed hair was
slicked back in a limp ponytail, her skin looked like putty, and her face
appeared creased and lumpy from too much interrupted sleep. I noticed the unmistakable outline of a pint
tucked in her bathrobe pocket.
“You looking for Billy?” I inquired.
“Nooo,” she sounded pissed as
usual. “I’m screaming my lungs out just
to hear myself. Of course I’m looking
for that demon child of mine.”
Shielding her eyes with cupped hands, Edna screamed Billy’s name to the
far horizon. “Where’s he hiding? I need him to get me a pack of cigarettes.”
“Edna, no one’s gonna sell your young'un a pack of cancer sticks.”
Her face turned hard. “Did I say I
needed him to buy me a pack? I said I
needed a pack. That boy has a real gift,
I tellya. He can waltz right into the
Circle-J and waltz right out with a pint of bourbon, a carton of Marlboros and
a Slim Jim. It’s like nobody ever sees
him. He’s got the gift all right.” Edna spoke with noticeable maternal pride.
I cupped my own hands around my eyes and pretended to scan the brown hills for
Little Billy. “If I see him,” I lied,
“I’ll be sure to tell him to get home right away.”
Then I reached into my cooler and hoisted up a frosty can. “You want a beer and a hand-rolled wonder until
you can get store-bought?” I gave Edna a
wink and dangled a cold one in front of her as I pulled a doobie outta my pocket.
Her frown softened. “I could sure use something.”
Edna’s hands fidgeted and rubbed up and down her grimy robe. She steadily eyed the can of beer as she
slowly slid down her trailer steps, her chenille bathrobe flapping in the
breeze and her white thighs flashing like neon.
Her pink bunny bedroom slippers kicked up little puffs of dust as she
weaved in my direction.
I moved a leg to make room for Edna to straddle a spare milk crate, then I
passed her a can and handed her a smoke.
She reached for the beer and then straight away lit up. Her eyelids fluttered as she took a hard
pull, then she leaned back and took a deep drag. “Breakfast of champions,” she blew blue smoke
from parted lips.
I was fascinated just watching the way Edna held the burning cylinder. Her orange-stained fingers and chipped Jungle
Red nail polish contrasted with the bright white paper she tightly clutched in
her hand. Nothing could detract from the
elegant way she smoked and drank in tandem.
Edna tilted her head skyward and commented in a raspy voice, “Those buzzards up
there are circling pretty damn low. Must
be something dead over in that ditch.”
“Probably just a piss-lizard,” I smiled.
“C’mon, Edna, let’s finish these beers inside.”
Little Billy owed me big time.