FIFTY/FIFTY
Chapter Three
Lil’s
Lil’s cafe, adjoining the cabin-type motel, was a typical small town coffee shop. The waitresses were mature; every customer seemed to be on a first name basis. The smell of burning onions hung heavy in the thick warm air. A large print, ‘Old Stage Coach’ by Eastman Johnson, depicting a group of ragtag kids happily playing on and in an old coach, hung on the wall above the table the Judge and his companion shared. Further along, an anonymous clipper ship in full sail clove the not-so-pacific ocean.
There was considerable kidding among customers and between customers and the employees. Country Western jukebox music provided the background to the clatter of dishware. Ceiling fans stirred the lazy flies. The smell of cooking beef stirred the Judge’s appetite. The girl’s apparently needed no stirring.
The menu featured a large number of homemade items. The girl ordered a vegeburger and fries and a milk shake. Judge Hal ordered home made meatloaf with cottage potatoes.
They had quarreled before entering because he had insisted on ordering and paying for two cabins. The girl insisted that they were traveling fifty-fifty, but she also said it was a terrible waste of money, and announced loudly that they should share a cabin with two beds, and save the money.
Now, the quarrel quickly forgotten, she was greedily devouring her second vegeburger. "Okay," she agreed finally, and Judge Hal felt, much too loudly. "Please, can I have some pie?"
"Don’t talk with your mouth full," he remonstrated, "and not so loud."
"Can I? Have some pie, I mean. I’ll have plenty time to sleep it off. I’ll pay you back." All she needed to do was add "Mister" and the whole town would be watching to see if they really used both cabins, he thought morosely. A fine mess he’d gotten himself into.
Betty Ruth continued eating, ignoring the milk mustache that adorned her gamin face. She grinned mischievously. What had he ever done to give her the notion she could be so free with him? The more prudent he tried to be, the more deeply enmeshed he became. Where was her respect for his dignity?
She wriggled her lissome body, then leaned across the table, after glancing around the cafe confidentially. Her forehead wrinkled cutely, as if some deliciously lascivious thought had coursed through it, she stage whispered, "How often did you sleep with your wife?" She wrinkled her forehead, "I mean how many times a week did you—you know? Did you have separate bedrooms like in th’ movies? Did you go to her bed or vice versa? How many times a week...."
"Listen, will you shut up? This is no time for that kind of conversation."
"Oh. When is? Afterwards?" The waitress whispered something to Lil; Lil grinned at her grill. The girl leaned over the table again, her best assets challenging the remains of her dinner. "What’s my name? I mean what name did you put down for my cabin, you know?" The waitress and Lil were conferring behind the counter. Judge Hal felt his face growing heated.
Lil dropped a container of potatoes into the hot fat; the resulting noise of explosively frying potatoes gave the Judge a moment to recover.
"You are embarrassing me," he whispered. "I could not remember your name, so I had to add you to mine."
"Oh. Okay. What’s your name?" she asked worriedly. A guffaw exploded from the booth behind the Judge. "Am I Mrs. Something or other? Mrs. Jones? I always wanted to be a Mrs. Jones in a motel." She grinned conspirationally.
"You are not paying the bill. On the bill you are ‘and friend’. I would be glad to change that to ‘and patient’, if you like."
"Oh no, I have to pay the bill. We’re going fifty-fifty, remember? ‘And patient’ would sound like I’m paranoid or have a problem or somethin’, an’ I don’t." She grinned as she leaned forward again, "Well, maybe one."
"Only one? I would think you had a laundry list full of problems. And who said ‘we’ were going anywhere?"
"Only one. I have a hunger for some pie. That’s my only problem. I know, you think you’re going to dump me."
"You couldn’t possibly have hunger for anything, not after that dinner you just wolfed down. You have an appetite is all; habit. No pie unless you tell me your name." Lil, behind the counter, was already cutting a large slice. "I am going to dump you."
"I might lie. And I bet you don’t."
"Might lie? Tell me. Someday you may accidentally tell the truth. I want to see your driver’s license."
"I don’t have one."
"And you don’t have a name."
"Sure I do, but I’m not going tell you ’til I get the pie." Lil herself plopped a large slice of homemade apple pie complete with a large scoop of vanilla ice cream in front of the girl.
"What’s your name, Honey?" asked Lil.
"Betty Ruth," she answered promptly, staring greedily at the dessert.
"If Skinflint won’t pay for it, I will," Lil advised.
"Oh, that’s beautiful," gushed the child part of the woman-child. "Such luscious apples; such a flaky crust. Can I adopt you?"
"You’ll have to leave him behind."
"But I can’t do that. He’s mine, I adopted him; although he’s not much, and treats me terribly."
"Yeah, I can see he’s abusing you." Lil sashayed away.
"Betty Ruth what?" queried the Judge.
"That’s all. You don’t need any more unless you plan to marry me or something."
"What do you mean ‘or something’?" he imprudently asked.
"You know, the usual."
"What usual?" his voice took on a nervous edge.
She looked at him carefully for a full minute before answering. Lil coughed, the girl glanced at her. "Never mind." She heaved a soulful sigh. "I’m full." She had barely started her dessert. "I’ve lost my appetite," she answered to Judge Hal’s accusing stare. Tears were gathering on her long dark lashes.
"Oh, God," grumbled the Judge. "Forget it. Use any name you want. Finish your dessert. Crawl into my bed. Invite the whole town to watch. When this reaches home, my reputation will be ruined anyway."
"Do you have a reputation?" inquired the girl excitedly, her tears disappearing. "I’ve never known anyone with a reputation before. Especially one worth protecting. Don’t worry, I’ll protect your reputation," she assured him, patting his nervous hand.
"I’m not going to sleep with him tonight. We have separate cabins," she announced to the cafe, receiving applause and salutes in return.
Judge Hal would have welcomed the floor opening and swallowing him. Now he was a marked man for the rest of the night. He wished he had a complicated case to brief. Luckily he would leave this town and this aggressive, irresponsible child tomorrow and this would all be forgotten by the next day.
The girl studied him from across the table. Unexpectedly she asked, "How old are you? Forty? Fifty? If you have daughters my age, you must be as old as my dad. Did you marry young? You’re not bad looking, in a casual sort of way, you’re kinda sexy; and probably look real neat in Judge’s robes an’ all, but you look kinda tired, you know? And you ought to let your hair grow. We have to discuss tomorrow, too."
The outspoken girl had the Judge sufficiently confused for him to again prudently resolve to help her find transportation out of his life, first thing in the morning.
"Tomorrow we will discuss tomorrow." Judge Hal paid the bill, and over-tipped the waitress, which he had resolved not to do.
Once outside, the child-woman wrapped her hands around his arm and begged to go for a walk around the town.
"Why? So you can show me up for the old fool I am? Do you have to chew gum all the time?"
"You’re not a fool," she assured him. "I wouldn’t bother with a fool. And I don’t chew gum all the time. Just when my teeth need cleaning; or when I’m nervous; or when I’m happy."
"Are you happy? Or nervous? Or aren’t your teeth clean yet?"
She held up a hand, ticking the answers off, "My teeth are almost clean. I’m not nervous. I am happy, right now. Did I get ‘em all?"
"All what?"
"All the answers. Bet I did."
"Bet what?" unwisely asked the Judge.
"Bet a roll in bed, or an ice cream cone."
"You win an ice cream cone."
"Chicken. I might be good, you know."
"That’s what I’m afraid of."
She cuffed his arm lightly with her small fist. "That’s mean. I like you. You’re worried, you know, but not scared. Most boys get scared when I come on to them. You’re afraid I’ll ruin your reputation, an’ I probably will; but you’re still here anyway."
They walked the central square of the small city, noting the old storefronts, and especially the motels. The girl, Betty Ruth, seemed to be very interested in them. She said she wanted to be sure they had the best. She never announced her determination.
"Mister Hudson," she said finally, "my feet are starting to hurt. Can we go home now? Have you explored enough?"
"Have I explored enough?" he started to explode, then recognized the invitation to a quarrel. "Yes, I think I have had enough walking for now. Why don’t we go back to the Motel? Do you think you can make it on your own feet? Shall I carry you? Call a taxi? I am old, with one foot in the grave and need my rest. I’d like to get an early start, and you definitely need a shower."
"I do? I hadn’t noticed," she ignored his sarcasm. "How do I smell? You smell good too," she continued without waiting for an answer. "You see, I told you you were too smart."
Judge Hal let that comment lie, contenting himself with a casual stroll back to the motel, where he pointedly escorted her to her cabin, handed her the key. He didn’t bother to point out his cabin. He figured she had already determined that in the same way she had ferreted out his name without ever directly asking.
Judge Hal picked up a cold beer from a dispenser on his way to the cabin. At this stage in his strange relationship with the strange girl, he could have used something stronger than beer; but he did not want to invade Lil’s again. The giant orange sun was sinking into the dust. He treated himself to a long shower, dressed in his favorite nylon pajamas, found the local radio stations carried only country western music or talk shows, turned on the TV set to the only available channel, pulled out his planned entertainment for this trip the text, The Law and The Future. He popped the can of beer open, congratulating himself on his prudent handling of the difficult girl. Tomorrow he would be free again.
A warm gentle breeze wafted through the open window, carrying the aroma of onions and grease, mixed with the scent of the lilacs that overgrew the side of the motel. A completely inane sitcom was on the tube, providing background noise to drown out the persistent crickets. Perfect. Alone at last.
Judge Harold ‘Hal’ J. Hudson was deeply into the projection of current trends in law and their probable effect on future society, an absorbing subject for some people, when he heard a discreet knock at the door. With a premonition of trouble, he called, "Who’s there?"
"Room Service," was the answer. The voice however, was suspiciously familiar. He pushed the fluttering drapes aside and saw a miniature Venus standing on the step of the Cabin, a can of beer in her left hand, wearing only her sandals and a very brief ‘Baby-doll’ sleeping garment, consisting of a short camisole and frilled panties. The top seemed to be starched or curiously cut in order to stand out in the manner of hoop skirts, rather than hug the body, further accentuating both the shortness of the camisole and the briefness of the frilled panties; it was impossible to guess the color in the night lights.
By the light of the street light and neon motel sign behind her, he recognized the profile, the slender body; although the breasts looked somewhat larger than when confined by the elastic breast band.
"Probably wearing a padded bra," he thought to himself before realizing that in the thin material of the baby-doll sleeping outfit, it was obvious she wore no brassiere at all. She was virtually naked, standing at his door for all who could see to see.
CHAPTER FOUR