SECRETS AND LIES
ADMITTEDLY, BILLY HADN’T heard a single word Sue had said all afternoon.
By the time she’d finally graced him with her presence at the diner, he was on his second soda pop and his thoughts had already taken him far, far away. As Sue rambled on about this friend or that one, the only thing he could think of was the conversation he’d just overheard shortly beforehand.
Bessie Harlow was not a virgin.
Bessie Harlow was not a virgin.
Bessie Harlow was not a virgin.
Bessie Harlow was no longer innocent.
Bessie Harlow’s innocence was stolen by a dirty gypsy.
Zac Hanson would pay for taking what was his.
Billy Connors always got what he wanted.
Nobody would take that away from him. Not anymore.
Bessie Harlow was not a virgin.
“Billy, are you even listening?”
The blonde bombshell looked across the table at him expectantly and he was suddenly brought back to the present. Sue Wilkerson certainly was a hot little number, no matter how much her talking annoyed him. He suddenly remembered his original goal and he welcomed the distraction as he smiled and straightened himself up in his seat.
“Why, of course I am, doll. I’m always listening to you.”
“Oh, yeah?” She challenged. “Well, I asked you a question and you haven’t answered it.”
His eyes darted around uncomfortably, desperately searching for an answer. Question? What question? He hadn’t heard any question.
Scoffing sheepishly, he replied with, “Well, you haven’t given me a chance to answer. I have to ponder it a little if I’m to form a sound opinion, you know.”
Her blue eyes glared at him. “I asked you what kind of soda pop you were drinking.”
Oh…
“Billy, do you even like me, anymore?”
Immediately, Billy grew defensive. “Of course I do. Do you think I’d take you out on all these dinners and movies and walks if I didn’t? I could think of much better things to do with my time, you know.”
“This is hardly what I’d consider a dinner,” Sue snapped back. “Hot dogs are for picnics, not for dates. When you asked me to come to this diner, I almost didn’t show up.”
“I noticed,” Billy mumbled under his breath.
“So you’d better have a plan for afterward because, if you don’t, then this little trip was a complete waste of my time.”
Against his own will, her last statement stung him a little. He bore his eyes into her from across the table as she busied herself by poking around in her French fries. He reflected on the time, not too long ago, when he and Bessie had had lunch here, just a couple of tables away. Bessie had appreciated the gesture and enjoyed her food happily, with vigor. Billy liked that in a woman. Why, if it had been Bessie across the table instead of Sue, he would probably have a hard time keeping Bessie’s fingers out of his French fries after she’d finished her own. He would order her another round of them and they would eat and they would laugh and she wouldn’t criticize his choice of dining.
When Sue finally looked up from her plate, having not taken a single bite, Billy glared at her. “I thought you came here because you liked me?”
Letting out an exasperated breath, Sue wiped her fingers on her napkin. “I do like you, Billy. But you just don’t seem like yourself lately. Your head’s always somewhere else, you hardly hear a word I say. We go on dates to…to hot dog joints and free movies…that’s not the Billy I knew before.”
“Well, maybe that’s the Billy you have now. Ever stopped to consider the fact that maybe I’m changed now?”
Sue arched an eyebrow. “It’s becoming more and more apparent.”
“Is it a problem for you? Because if it is—“
“Are you breaking up with me?”
Billy looked across the table in silence. Now there was a question he’d heard. And one he needed a moment to ponder. Was he breaking up with her? Was it necessary? Had he had enough time with her to make a decision about that, yet? Sure, she was a complete nag and her disposition could be less than desirable at times. But as he looked her over, with her blonde hair and her blue eyes and her pink and black polka-dotted dress that hugged her in all the right places, and he decided in that instant that putting up with all of her attitude and not getting anything out of it was not going to be an option.
“No,” he finally replied. “I’m not breaking up with you. In fact, since you’re so insistent that I’ve been such a terrible boyfriend, I’ll go ahead and let you know that you’ve ruined the surprise for tonight.”
Her eyes widened and her jaw slackened. “Surprise? What surprise?”
Well, shit. That was a good question.
Billy cleared his throat, silently grasping for straws like a madman. “Why…you didn’t think this was our date, did you?”
“Um. Well, I…”
“Nonsense,” Billy scoffed. Think. Think! “There’s a double feature at the theatre and then I know someplace that’s having some dancing tonight. See?” He knew the double feature was a fact, but he’d have to work miracles on the dancing.
Suddenly, Sue’s eyes lit up and she clasped her fingers together. It was the first time she’d smiled since she’d been sitting there. “Oh, Billy, do you mean it?”
“Absolutely, doll. You don’t think I’d ask you here just for a silly hot dog, do you? Unlike some men in town, I know how to treat my lady.” He finished it off with a wink.
Across the table, Sue was smitten.
Hook. Line. Sinker.
* * *
Whoever came up with the double feature idea needed a good slugging.
To begin with, it cost him a whopping forty cents just for the two of them to get in the door. Not that the money was something Billy was particularly hard up for, but he could think of much better things to do with forty cents, that much was for certain.
For the country to be in the dire straits that it was in, it certainly was crowded in the theatre that night. He found it a little hard to believe that every single one of these people all had an extra two dimes for a picture show and he had to wonder how many of them were here legitimately. Stepping over people to lead Sue to their seats, Billy brooded at the missed opportunity to skip the screen and neck in the dark.
Why else did boys bring girls to picture shows?
The Circle Theatre in Whittier Square was a relatively new theatre, just opened a year before the stock market crash. For the solid year before the crash, Billy remembered coming with his parents at least twice a week and it was always crowded. And then, after the crash, it was a surprise that the theatre was still open at all, with its seats being so sparsely filled, much like the rest of the Whittier Square shopping area had turned out to be. All around them, filling stations, food stores, the library…all once busy, vibrant businesses now seemed to collect dust.
Except for tonight. What was it about tonight?
The Circle Theatre was located in a two-story brick building that housed apartments just above the theatre. Billy always wondered about the people who lived up there and how they managed all day and night with the sounds of the talkies below them. Then again, he supposed that if it was the owners who lived up there, then maybe they were used to it, seeing as it was their livelihood.
Boy, they sure were making it tonight, weren’t they?
Much to Billy’s dismay, he had been disheartened that the double feature he’d roped himself into consisted of the films, Ladies They Talk About and She Done Him Wrong. He couldn’t have gotten something like King Kong and a Will Rogers film to sufficiently bore his date into wanting to neck with him instead? But, no. Sue seemed absolutely thrilled with the night’s selections and had already settled herself comfortably into her seat. Well. At the very least, Billy had Mae West and all her tight dresses to look forward to.
Before he knew it, the lights were dimming in the small theatre and the music bellowed loudly in his ears. He glanced over at Sue and she was lost in the screen already. Billy, on the other hand, was already restless.
He looked around the theatre ahead of them. They’d chosen seats located closer to the back, not that they’d had much choice, so all he could see were the silhouettes of other spectators ahead of them. On a few of their faces, the light from the screen would reflect and he could catch a glimpse of who he was looking at, but he recognized none of them. He saw none of his chums that he could throw popcorn at, no dates that he could interrupt. He was stuck. Trapped. Stranded, sitting there watching talkies more suited for dames. The next time he took Sue out, he was definitely going to have a more thought-out plan.
Against his will, he found himself focusing on the screen.
He wound up getting more caught up in the picture than he’d intended to—that Mae West sure knew how to keep a man’s interest; it was no wonder they kept putting her in pictures. But it was the movement out of the corner of his eye, just ahead of him, three rows ahead, at least, that finally tore his eyes from the screen.
It was dark in the theatre, so people were hard to make out, same as before. But what he knew he was looking at, at that moment, made his eyes widen and his skin crawl. Why, there—right there, in front of God and everybody—were two women…canoodling in the theatre! Together! Together, the way a boy and a girl would canoodle on a date. The way he and Sue should have been canoodling in that moment. Women. Two women! That was—why, that was—that was downright…
Not women?
Billy was delirious and he knew it. His eyes were getting screwy with the bright screen in the dark room, it was too much to handle. His eyes weren’t cooperating, they weren’t—what was he looking at? Who was he looking at?
It didn’t take long to figure it out. The one on the left with the shoulder-length hair reached around and slid a very masculine arm around the one on the right with the curls. In that moment, Billy’s skin crawled in the most familiar, infuriating of ways. He had to know. He had to be sure.
As inconspicuously as possible, he retrieved a popcorn kernel from the bag he shared with Sue and then checked to see if she had noticed. To his relief, she was so engrossed in the picture that she hadn’t so much as flinched. And so, armed with his popcorn kernel, with as much finesse as he could muster, he launched it over the heads in front of him and prayed that it reached its destination without interference.
It did.
It hit the one on the right, bouncing off the crown of her perfectly-shaped head. And then, ever so deliberately, she turned her head around and the light from the screen reflected her perfectly-sculpted features.
Bessie.
He couldn’t see her expression but it didn’t take a college degree to know that she was glaring at him. For a moment he wondered if she recognized him, and then he remembered that the glow of the screen was directly on him and there was no way she wouldn’t see him. How would she know to blame him, though? The theatre was full.
The look on her face told him that it didn’t matter.
Movement on the left side caught Billy’s attention and, suddenly, Bessie intercepted the gesture by kissing Zac’s cheek and snuggling closer into his arm. Zac never turned around but it didn’t make Billy’s blood boil any less. That could have been Bessie under his own arm instead of the cold fish that sat beside him.
He looked over at Sue and studied her for a moment. Cold fish, he’d referred to her as. He didn’t ask her out for her to be a cold fish and he was under the impression that she wasn’t one. But she hadn’t proven otherwise, yet. In fact, she was very nearly becoming more of a nuisance than a convenience and he was growing resentful of his wasted time. As he glanced at Zac and Bessie’s continued canoodling, and then back over at Sue, it was decided. She would be a cold fish no more. And he knew exactly how to warm her up.
* * *
Billy didn’t know what thrilled him more: The fact that he hadn’t had to suffer through another picture or, the fact that it took little-to-no convincing to get Sue to leave with him. Maybe he’d been wrong about Sue all along. Maybe it just took a little while for her adventurousness to shine through. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. Billy gripped the steering wheel, never having been more pleased as punch to be driving home.
It dawned on Billy that his parents were out of town for the evening. Broken Arrow’s judge was having some sort of soiree and Billy’s parents had told him not to wait up that night. A quiet, romantic evening alone was just what the young couple needed to get themselves reacquainted with each other, he’d decided. He may have tossed in there something about knowing where the key to his father’s liquor cabinet was, and that may have evoked the main reaction out of her, but who was keeping record? What mattered was, he was out of the theatre, away from Bessie and that dirty gypsy, and he was about to cash in on a big payday for all his trouble.
Sue was in a considerably better mood in his passenger seat than she had been all evening. In fact, she was full of all sorts of chatter he wasn’t sure he’d heard come from her before. “You have a Victrola, don’t you? Oh, surely you do. Do you have any good records? Or maybe there’s something on the radio tonight…”
Oh, he had records at home, all right. But he sure didn’t plan to be paying much attention to them, that was for sure.
Pulling around his home’s circular driveway, he parked the car in front of the porch and was sure to remember all of his gentlemanly manners. He opened the car door for Sue, let her take his elbow as he escorted her to the front door, and even held the door open and let her enter before him. Elsie, the family’s maid, didn’t bat an eyelash as the couple entered through the foyer, as well as she shouldn’t have. There were no rules against Billy having dates over while his parents weren’t home and, even if there were, Elsie knew better to mind her own business.
Billy watched Sue as she walked around the bright, white living room, calculating exactly how he was going to do this. She really was beautiful, with her blonde hair and her dangerous curves. He couldn’t wait to see what was really underneath all of those polka dots.
Finally, she whipped around, her big, blue eyes full of mischief. “So. Where’s the liquor cabinet?”
Billy smirked, sinking his hands into his pockets as he sauntered toward her. “The liquor cabinet, huh? I thought you were more excited about the Victrola?”
“Well,” she shrugged matter-of-factly. “Sometimes I enjoy a little liquor with my jazz.”
“I’m amused at your assumption that we’ll be listening to jazz.”
“Surely you didn’t bring me here to bore me.”
“That, I did not.”
“All right, then,” she challenged. “Entertain me.”
If Billy believed himself half as brutish as his peers believed he was, he would have taken that as an open invitation to take her to bed in that instant. Instead, he walked past her and made his way to the only brown pieces in the entire room, sitting against a wall adjacent to the hallway. The liquor cabinet was an antique, having been in his father’s family for generations. Billy was convinced that the piece—which barely cleared his waist and whose doors were made up almost entirely of glass—had once been intended for use as a China cabinet, or maybe even a medicine cabinet, but his father had locked his prized liquors in it for as long as Billy could remember.
Opening a tiny, cleverly hidden drawer on the side of the cabinet, Billy retrieved the key. As he slid the small, black skeleton key expertly into the lock, a slender, delicate hand caressed the wood atop the surface in front of him and the intoxicating, soft scent of powdery florals filled his nostrils. He was glad that his arms were covered up so that Sue couldn’t see the goosebumps of excitement that were spreading like wildfire across his skin.
He side-eyed her quickly and was met with a smile so dangerous, he was beginning to have a hard time believing that this was the same girl who had just torn him down a couple of hours ago. He had been wrong about her. Completely wrong. There was definitely more to this girl than the occasional sassy mouth. Much, much more.
The goosebumps multiplied exponentially.
“So, what are you making for me?” She purred.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, doll. I’m gonna treat you right,” he winked.
“Oh, I’m counting on it.”
And, in that moment, he knew for certain that tonight was the night.
All of a sudden, his confidence soared to brand new heights.
“Why don’t you come over here and pick out something for us to listen to while I prepare our drinks, huh?”
“Gladly,” she flirted.
It was hard to concentrate on gathering ingredients when he wanted to watch her hourglass figure saunter to the Victrola on the other side of him.
In his peripheral, she bent over to search the drawer of records, her back arched and her round backside in the most inviting position he had ever seen. It took a matter of seconds for her to catch him looking at her and she tossed him a wink before getting back to her assigned task. Would he survive the first round of drinks? At this rate, did they need the drinks at all? Or even the music? Couldn’t they just skip this part and get right to what they had both clearly intended to come here to do?
No. They couldn’t. Not when her eyes lit up at the record cover in her hands as she returned to the upright position. “I think Gershwin will do just fine.”
“Hm,” he replied, busying himself by opening bottles. “Gershwin’s all right. But I’m more of a Cab Calloway guy, myself.”
Sue’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “I love Cab Calloway,” she breathed in awe.
“Yeah? That so?”
“Yes. But we don’t listen to his records in our house because my mother thinks his music is inappropriate.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean. My parents were all right with it until they heard ‘Reefer Man’ and my mother nearly lost her mind. Now he’s not allowed in here at all.”
“It’s unfortunate, isn’t it? Older people just don’t know good music these days.”
The corners of Billy’s mouth turned up as he mixed her drink: brandy, apple juice, lemon juice, and a splash of vodka. He poured some scotch for himself and then he handed his lady her glass. “It’s unfortunate that my parents don’t know that there’s a record of Cab Calloway’s hidden in my bedroom.”
Sue gasped in surprised delight, quickly discarding George Gershwin in favor of her little glass of cheer. “Oh, you sneak! Does that mean you…have a Victrola in your bedroom, as well?”
Damn! He didn’t. The one they stood next to was the only one in the house.
“I don’t. But if you like, I can go and get it and we can listen to it.”
“Yes, please! Does it have Minnie The Moocher on it?”
“What do you take me for?”
At that, Sue giggled with glee as she turned up her glass and then she licked her lips happily. “Why, this is divine! What is it?”
Billy smiled with pride. “It’s called an Apple Blossom. An apple blossom for my perfect flower.”
He thought she was going to melt right into the floor.
Before she melted, however, he excused himself upstairs to get the record she’d requested. Or that he’d offered. Bah, it didn’t matter. She was happy, that was what mattered.
In no time at all, the pair were listening to song after song, dancing around together, as Billy prepared drink after drink in between. They laughed and they tasted different concoctions, and he even managed to get her in his arms a couple of times before, boldly, Sue giggled and took his hand, leading him to the couch across the room.
Curling up next to him, so very close, she tucked her ankles underneath her, careful not to spill her newly mixed drink. “Oh, Billy,” she cooed. “This has been the most wonderful evening. I’m having so much fun.”
Suppressing a hiccup and ignoring the sudden spinning of the room, Billy smiled back at her. “That so? I’m glad. But the fun’s not over, yet.”
Arching a mischievous eyebrow, Sue turned up her glass. “It isn’t, is it? What more could there possibly be to do?”
The last thing Billy remembered was the close proximity of her lips to his.
* * * * *
The room spun. It was quiet. Deathly quiet. The lights were on. And he was alone.
Billy was alone.
He blinked his hazy eyes slowly, fighting for focus. The ceiling. He was looking up at the white ceiling, the large, crystals from the chandelier glinting off of the bright lamp light.
Slowly, he sat up on the couch. One of his feet already rested on the floor. His right arm was numb from having been dangling off the edge. But, despite the swimming in his head, the room remained eerily deserted.
Sue?
Where was Sue?
His stomach flip-flopped as he struggled to stand. Maybe she had gone up to his bedroom. If he was lucky, she was curled up on his bed and maybe between the couch and his bedroom, he will have regained the energy to continue the evening. What time was it? His eyes unsuccessfully landed on a couple of clocks, but he couldn’t read them. The only thing he was sure of was coming face-to-face with his mother halfway up the stairs.
“Mother,” he slurred, gripping the wooden railing as if his life depended on it. “Sue. Where’s…where’d she go? Where’s Sue?”
He could focus on her face enough to see the thin line her lips made. The thin line of displeasure. The thin line of disappointment. “Your father drove her home.”
“No,” he barked, losing his balance momentarily. “No, she’s my date. I drive her home!”
“Son, you are barely in a position to hold yourself upright, do you really think you would have been capable of seeing your date home safely? Get up there to bed, we’ll discuss this in the morning.”
“No!” He protested. “No. Our date wasn’t over. It’s not up to you and the old man to decide when my date is over!”
“You watch your language, young man!”
“You watch yours,” he shot back.
“I’m not going to stand here for this any longer. When we walked in the door, you were out cold on the couch and poor Sue was trying to wake you up. You panicked the poor girl, son. Simply panicked her. You made a complete and utter fool of yourself and no son of mine will tarnish this family’s good name. You are a Connors! And it’s high time you acted like one.”
“Yeah?” He sneered at her. “I’ll act like one when Dad does.”
He barely had time to breathe before his mother’s hand stung his cheek like wildfire.
Stunned, he stumbled down a couple of steps backward. Stunned only for a moment, and then he was angry. “I don’t have to take this from you. I don’t have to take this from anyone!”
Getting from the staircase to the yard had been a blur. The world spun a little less but his stability hadn’t gotten any better. The moon above shone brightly, casting a glow over millions upon millions of blades of grass as far as his impaired vision could see. The occasional night breeze was hardly noticeable as his body overheated itself in its own fight to keep the liquor in his stomach.
Absinthe. The last thing he remembered pouring was absinthe. Because, apparently, the scotch hadn’t been doing it for him.
Never in his life would he drink absinthe again.
Never in his life would he drink anything again.
He stood there, swaying, or so it felt, when his eyes fell on the garage off in the distance. The doors were closed, the both of them. Or at least he thought they were. Which was interesting, considering that his father never bothered to close the door after driving the car out of it, something his mother always fussed about.
When a glint of light caught his eye beyond the garage, Billy was filled with a sudden, unexplainable mixture of confusion and rage. In the barn just beyond the garage, yellow light shown through the bottom of the closed door. So his father was home. Sue didn’t live far away, so that made sense, but what in the hell was he doing in the barn at…what time was it? This time of the night? His father didn’t even like the barn.
Between the stumbling and the churning of his stomach and the spinning of the earth, it felt like it took centuries to make the trek across the yard and to the door. When he finally slumped his shoulder against the doorway, he heard sounds. Sounds. There were sounds. There was no radio or Victrola in the barn—it was impossible. Billy knew that much. What in the hell was…?
Before he knew it, the knob was turning in Billy’s hand. His grip tightened on it as the door opened to keep himself from falling into it. As the door creaked, the sounds grew frighteningly louder and the visual caused Billy’s stomach to jump up into his throat. His eyes widened and, suddenly, the world was still. There was no spinning, there was no stumbling, there was nothing hazy or blurry about his vision anymore. Instead, across the barn in front of him, was the most sickening sight he had ever laid his eyes on. Nothing could have ever prepared him for this. Nothing could have prepared him for the ending of his own sanity. The ending of his life as he knew it. Nothing could have ever prepared him for…for any of this.
Polka dots. He saw them. Polka dots that weren’t the product of impaired vision. These polka dots were wrapped around the waist of smooth, pink skin. A cascade of perfect, blonde curls bounced between the shoulder blades of a bare back. And the sounds. They grew louder. Deafeningly louder. Dangerous—dangerously louder. “Yes!” The shrill voice seemed to scream. Billy’s ears nearly bled. “Yes, Daddy Connors, yes! Yes!”
“That’s it,” a gruff grunt erupted from underneath the horror. “That’s it, baby girl, who’s your daddy? Who’s your daddy?”
Billy heard the crash before he saw his own blood. He was on the floor, nearly buried underneath a pile of yard tools. The sleeve of his white dress shirt was torn and his forearm bled from the scratch he received from the metal rake on his way down.
The blood-curdling scream interrupted the momentary distraction of his arm and, as he struggled to peel himself off of the bed of wood and metal, a whir of polka dots and blonde hair shot past him and disappeared out of the barn door and into the night. When he finally righted himself, his father—the man he had looked up to his entire life up until this very moment—had lifted himself from the fragrant haystack and was hastily readjusting his own clothing. The old man’s face was blood red and Billy startled himself by wondering if a heart attack was close behind—and if he would even run for help if it was.
Billy wanted to speak. He fought desperately to find the words but his throat seemed to close up in the exact same instance that the bile was forcing itself up from his stomach. And if he did speak, what would he say? There were so many words, so many things…so much that the overwhelming emotions that were rushing over him were beginning to make his head throb.
Rage.
Betrayal.
Disbelief.
Rage.
Rage.
RAGE!
They would burn in hell, the both of them! His sick, disgusting, despicable father and his filthy whore of a now ex-girlfriend. Bessie would have never done this to him. And Billy was instantly reminded of the way Zac Hanson, a dirty gypsy, had officially taken everything that he ever had left in his life away from him.
Zac. This was all his fault. If he had never entered the picture in the first place, this would never have--
The pounding of the back of his skull against hard wood brought Billy back to the matter at hand. His father’s breath was laden with the forbidden scent of the treasurer’s daughter as he held his face so threateningly close to his son’s. “If you breathe a word of this to your mother, you’ll sorely regret it, do you understand me?” He spat through his teeth.
“You fucked my girlfriend!”
“I didn’t give her anything she didn’t want. Clearly you weren’t going to seal the deal. And you call yourself my son.”
“From this day forward, you are not my father. You’ll burn in hell!”
“I will ruin you, boy! Don’t you understand that? I will ruin you!”
“I’m already ruined. You already ruined me!”
“Stop whining like a little girl and man up! This is our little secret, just between us men. Okay? Think of it as…why, as bonding. I taught you a lesson. That’s what this is. Just a father teaching his son how to keep his woman interested. Right?”
But Billy had no words. His father was…he was trying to justify this. He was trying to make it right. But nothing would ever be right again. Not ever again. He could never hate anyone more than he hated his father…not even Zac Hanson.
And, so, Billy did the only thing he could do underneath the physical pressure of his father’s fists pressed against the sides of his neck. He gathered what little bit of his insides had built up in his throat and he projected it—right into his father’s face.
The blow that he took as a result landed him right back into the familiar bed of yard tools. His father’s breathing had quickened as he hovered menacingly over his son. Billy’s cheek stung, but not as much as his father’s betrayal did.
“Don’t forget who I am,” District Attorney Stanley Connors sneered down at him. “The very moment this leaves this barn, I will ruin you. Son or no son.”
Before he knew it, Billy was alone.
And he was alone. So utterly alone. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew his father was right. To some degree that Billy never had the courage to address, he feared his father. His father would ruin him. Permanently, no doubt.
Yes, he was alone. To breathe a word of this to anyone would be sure humiliation. He couldn’t tell his mother. He couldn’t tell Lawrence. And confiding in Bessie Harlow was absolutely out of the question. His father was more right than he intended to be. He didn’t even have to threaten to bury his son six feet under to ruin him, because it had already happened.
On this night—on this crisp, clear summer night—Billy Connors found himself with nothing left to lose.
ADMITTEDLY, BILLY HADN’T heard a single word Sue had said all afternoon.
By the time she’d finally graced him with her presence at the diner, he was on his second soda pop and his thoughts had already taken him far, far away. As Sue rambled on about this friend or that one, the only thing he could think of was the conversation he’d just overheard shortly beforehand.
Bessie Harlow was not a virgin.
Bessie Harlow was not a virgin.
Bessie Harlow was not a virgin.
Bessie Harlow was no longer innocent.
Bessie Harlow’s innocence was stolen by a dirty gypsy.
Zac Hanson would pay for taking what was his.
Billy Connors always got what he wanted.
Nobody would take that away from him. Not anymore.
Bessie Harlow was not a virgin.
“Billy, are you even listening?”
The blonde bombshell looked across the table at him expectantly and he was suddenly brought back to the present. Sue Wilkerson certainly was a hot little number, no matter how much her talking annoyed him. He suddenly remembered his original goal and he welcomed the distraction as he smiled and straightened himself up in his seat.
“Why, of course I am, doll. I’m always listening to you.”
“Oh, yeah?” She challenged. “Well, I asked you a question and you haven’t answered it.”
His eyes darted around uncomfortably, desperately searching for an answer. Question? What question? He hadn’t heard any question.
Scoffing sheepishly, he replied with, “Well, you haven’t given me a chance to answer. I have to ponder it a little if I’m to form a sound opinion, you know.”
Her blue eyes glared at him. “I asked you what kind of soda pop you were drinking.”
Oh…
“Billy, do you even like me, anymore?”
Immediately, Billy grew defensive. “Of course I do. Do you think I’d take you out on all these dinners and movies and walks if I didn’t? I could think of much better things to do with my time, you know.”
“This is hardly what I’d consider a dinner,” Sue snapped back. “Hot dogs are for picnics, not for dates. When you asked me to come to this diner, I almost didn’t show up.”
“I noticed,” Billy mumbled under his breath.
“So you’d better have a plan for afterward because, if you don’t, then this little trip was a complete waste of my time.”
Against his own will, her last statement stung him a little. He bore his eyes into her from across the table as she busied herself by poking around in her French fries. He reflected on the time, not too long ago, when he and Bessie had had lunch here, just a couple of tables away. Bessie had appreciated the gesture and enjoyed her food happily, with vigor. Billy liked that in a woman. Why, if it had been Bessie across the table instead of Sue, he would probably have a hard time keeping Bessie’s fingers out of his French fries after she’d finished her own. He would order her another round of them and they would eat and they would laugh and she wouldn’t criticize his choice of dining.
When Sue finally looked up from her plate, having not taken a single bite, Billy glared at her. “I thought you came here because you liked me?”
Letting out an exasperated breath, Sue wiped her fingers on her napkin. “I do like you, Billy. But you just don’t seem like yourself lately. Your head’s always somewhere else, you hardly hear a word I say. We go on dates to…to hot dog joints and free movies…that’s not the Billy I knew before.”
“Well, maybe that’s the Billy you have now. Ever stopped to consider the fact that maybe I’m changed now?”
Sue arched an eyebrow. “It’s becoming more and more apparent.”
“Is it a problem for you? Because if it is—“
“Are you breaking up with me?”
Billy looked across the table in silence. Now there was a question he’d heard. And one he needed a moment to ponder. Was he breaking up with her? Was it necessary? Had he had enough time with her to make a decision about that, yet? Sure, she was a complete nag and her disposition could be less than desirable at times. But as he looked her over, with her blonde hair and her blue eyes and her pink and black polka-dotted dress that hugged her in all the right places, and he decided in that instant that putting up with all of her attitude and not getting anything out of it was not going to be an option.
“No,” he finally replied. “I’m not breaking up with you. In fact, since you’re so insistent that I’ve been such a terrible boyfriend, I’ll go ahead and let you know that you’ve ruined the surprise for tonight.”
Her eyes widened and her jaw slackened. “Surprise? What surprise?”
Well, shit. That was a good question.
Billy cleared his throat, silently grasping for straws like a madman. “Why…you didn’t think this was our date, did you?”
“Um. Well, I…”
“Nonsense,” Billy scoffed. Think. Think! “There’s a double feature at the theatre and then I know someplace that’s having some dancing tonight. See?” He knew the double feature was a fact, but he’d have to work miracles on the dancing.
Suddenly, Sue’s eyes lit up and she clasped her fingers together. It was the first time she’d smiled since she’d been sitting there. “Oh, Billy, do you mean it?”
“Absolutely, doll. You don’t think I’d ask you here just for a silly hot dog, do you? Unlike some men in town, I know how to treat my lady.” He finished it off with a wink.
Across the table, Sue was smitten.
Hook. Line. Sinker.
* * *
Whoever came up with the double feature idea needed a good slugging.
To begin with, it cost him a whopping forty cents just for the two of them to get in the door. Not that the money was something Billy was particularly hard up for, but he could think of much better things to do with forty cents, that much was for certain.
For the country to be in the dire straits that it was in, it certainly was crowded in the theatre that night. He found it a little hard to believe that every single one of these people all had an extra two dimes for a picture show and he had to wonder how many of them were here legitimately. Stepping over people to lead Sue to their seats, Billy brooded at the missed opportunity to skip the screen and neck in the dark.
Why else did boys bring girls to picture shows?
The Circle Theatre in Whittier Square was a relatively new theatre, just opened a year before the stock market crash. For the solid year before the crash, Billy remembered coming with his parents at least twice a week and it was always crowded. And then, after the crash, it was a surprise that the theatre was still open at all, with its seats being so sparsely filled, much like the rest of the Whittier Square shopping area had turned out to be. All around them, filling stations, food stores, the library…all once busy, vibrant businesses now seemed to collect dust.
Except for tonight. What was it about tonight?
The Circle Theatre was located in a two-story brick building that housed apartments just above the theatre. Billy always wondered about the people who lived up there and how they managed all day and night with the sounds of the talkies below them. Then again, he supposed that if it was the owners who lived up there, then maybe they were used to it, seeing as it was their livelihood.
Boy, they sure were making it tonight, weren’t they?
Much to Billy’s dismay, he had been disheartened that the double feature he’d roped himself into consisted of the films, Ladies They Talk About and She Done Him Wrong. He couldn’t have gotten something like King Kong and a Will Rogers film to sufficiently bore his date into wanting to neck with him instead? But, no. Sue seemed absolutely thrilled with the night’s selections and had already settled herself comfortably into her seat. Well. At the very least, Billy had Mae West and all her tight dresses to look forward to.
Before he knew it, the lights were dimming in the small theatre and the music bellowed loudly in his ears. He glanced over at Sue and she was lost in the screen already. Billy, on the other hand, was already restless.
He looked around the theatre ahead of them. They’d chosen seats located closer to the back, not that they’d had much choice, so all he could see were the silhouettes of other spectators ahead of them. On a few of their faces, the light from the screen would reflect and he could catch a glimpse of who he was looking at, but he recognized none of them. He saw none of his chums that he could throw popcorn at, no dates that he could interrupt. He was stuck. Trapped. Stranded, sitting there watching talkies more suited for dames. The next time he took Sue out, he was definitely going to have a more thought-out plan.
Against his will, he found himself focusing on the screen.
He wound up getting more caught up in the picture than he’d intended to—that Mae West sure knew how to keep a man’s interest; it was no wonder they kept putting her in pictures. But it was the movement out of the corner of his eye, just ahead of him, three rows ahead, at least, that finally tore his eyes from the screen.
It was dark in the theatre, so people were hard to make out, same as before. But what he knew he was looking at, at that moment, made his eyes widen and his skin crawl. Why, there—right there, in front of God and everybody—were two women…canoodling in the theatre! Together! Together, the way a boy and a girl would canoodle on a date. The way he and Sue should have been canoodling in that moment. Women. Two women! That was—why, that was—that was downright…
Not women?
Billy was delirious and he knew it. His eyes were getting screwy with the bright screen in the dark room, it was too much to handle. His eyes weren’t cooperating, they weren’t—what was he looking at? Who was he looking at?
It didn’t take long to figure it out. The one on the left with the shoulder-length hair reached around and slid a very masculine arm around the one on the right with the curls. In that moment, Billy’s skin crawled in the most familiar, infuriating of ways. He had to know. He had to be sure.
As inconspicuously as possible, he retrieved a popcorn kernel from the bag he shared with Sue and then checked to see if she had noticed. To his relief, she was so engrossed in the picture that she hadn’t so much as flinched. And so, armed with his popcorn kernel, with as much finesse as he could muster, he launched it over the heads in front of him and prayed that it reached its destination without interference.
It did.
It hit the one on the right, bouncing off the crown of her perfectly-shaped head. And then, ever so deliberately, she turned her head around and the light from the screen reflected her perfectly-sculpted features.
Bessie.
He couldn’t see her expression but it didn’t take a college degree to know that she was glaring at him. For a moment he wondered if she recognized him, and then he remembered that the glow of the screen was directly on him and there was no way she wouldn’t see him. How would she know to blame him, though? The theatre was full.
The look on her face told him that it didn’t matter.
Movement on the left side caught Billy’s attention and, suddenly, Bessie intercepted the gesture by kissing Zac’s cheek and snuggling closer into his arm. Zac never turned around but it didn’t make Billy’s blood boil any less. That could have been Bessie under his own arm instead of the cold fish that sat beside him.
He looked over at Sue and studied her for a moment. Cold fish, he’d referred to her as. He didn’t ask her out for her to be a cold fish and he was under the impression that she wasn’t one. But she hadn’t proven otherwise, yet. In fact, she was very nearly becoming more of a nuisance than a convenience and he was growing resentful of his wasted time. As he glanced at Zac and Bessie’s continued canoodling, and then back over at Sue, it was decided. She would be a cold fish no more. And he knew exactly how to warm her up.
* * *
Billy didn’t know what thrilled him more: The fact that he hadn’t had to suffer through another picture or, the fact that it took little-to-no convincing to get Sue to leave with him. Maybe he’d been wrong about Sue all along. Maybe it just took a little while for her adventurousness to shine through. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. Billy gripped the steering wheel, never having been more pleased as punch to be driving home.
It dawned on Billy that his parents were out of town for the evening. Broken Arrow’s judge was having some sort of soiree and Billy’s parents had told him not to wait up that night. A quiet, romantic evening alone was just what the young couple needed to get themselves reacquainted with each other, he’d decided. He may have tossed in there something about knowing where the key to his father’s liquor cabinet was, and that may have evoked the main reaction out of her, but who was keeping record? What mattered was, he was out of the theatre, away from Bessie and that dirty gypsy, and he was about to cash in on a big payday for all his trouble.
Sue was in a considerably better mood in his passenger seat than she had been all evening. In fact, she was full of all sorts of chatter he wasn’t sure he’d heard come from her before. “You have a Victrola, don’t you? Oh, surely you do. Do you have any good records? Or maybe there’s something on the radio tonight…”
Oh, he had records at home, all right. But he sure didn’t plan to be paying much attention to them, that was for sure.
Pulling around his home’s circular driveway, he parked the car in front of the porch and was sure to remember all of his gentlemanly manners. He opened the car door for Sue, let her take his elbow as he escorted her to the front door, and even held the door open and let her enter before him. Elsie, the family’s maid, didn’t bat an eyelash as the couple entered through the foyer, as well as she shouldn’t have. There were no rules against Billy having dates over while his parents weren’t home and, even if there were, Elsie knew better to mind her own business.
Billy watched Sue as she walked around the bright, white living room, calculating exactly how he was going to do this. She really was beautiful, with her blonde hair and her dangerous curves. He couldn’t wait to see what was really underneath all of those polka dots.
Finally, she whipped around, her big, blue eyes full of mischief. “So. Where’s the liquor cabinet?”
Billy smirked, sinking his hands into his pockets as he sauntered toward her. “The liquor cabinet, huh? I thought you were more excited about the Victrola?”
“Well,” she shrugged matter-of-factly. “Sometimes I enjoy a little liquor with my jazz.”
“I’m amused at your assumption that we’ll be listening to jazz.”
“Surely you didn’t bring me here to bore me.”
“That, I did not.”
“All right, then,” she challenged. “Entertain me.”
If Billy believed himself half as brutish as his peers believed he was, he would have taken that as an open invitation to take her to bed in that instant. Instead, he walked past her and made his way to the only brown pieces in the entire room, sitting against a wall adjacent to the hallway. The liquor cabinet was an antique, having been in his father’s family for generations. Billy was convinced that the piece—which barely cleared his waist and whose doors were made up almost entirely of glass—had once been intended for use as a China cabinet, or maybe even a medicine cabinet, but his father had locked his prized liquors in it for as long as Billy could remember.
Opening a tiny, cleverly hidden drawer on the side of the cabinet, Billy retrieved the key. As he slid the small, black skeleton key expertly into the lock, a slender, delicate hand caressed the wood atop the surface in front of him and the intoxicating, soft scent of powdery florals filled his nostrils. He was glad that his arms were covered up so that Sue couldn’t see the goosebumps of excitement that were spreading like wildfire across his skin.
He side-eyed her quickly and was met with a smile so dangerous, he was beginning to have a hard time believing that this was the same girl who had just torn him down a couple of hours ago. He had been wrong about her. Completely wrong. There was definitely more to this girl than the occasional sassy mouth. Much, much more.
The goosebumps multiplied exponentially.
“So, what are you making for me?” She purred.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, doll. I’m gonna treat you right,” he winked.
“Oh, I’m counting on it.”
And, in that moment, he knew for certain that tonight was the night.
All of a sudden, his confidence soared to brand new heights.
“Why don’t you come over here and pick out something for us to listen to while I prepare our drinks, huh?”
“Gladly,” she flirted.
It was hard to concentrate on gathering ingredients when he wanted to watch her hourglass figure saunter to the Victrola on the other side of him.
In his peripheral, she bent over to search the drawer of records, her back arched and her round backside in the most inviting position he had ever seen. It took a matter of seconds for her to catch him looking at her and she tossed him a wink before getting back to her assigned task. Would he survive the first round of drinks? At this rate, did they need the drinks at all? Or even the music? Couldn’t they just skip this part and get right to what they had both clearly intended to come here to do?
No. They couldn’t. Not when her eyes lit up at the record cover in her hands as she returned to the upright position. “I think Gershwin will do just fine.”
“Hm,” he replied, busying himself by opening bottles. “Gershwin’s all right. But I’m more of a Cab Calloway guy, myself.”
Sue’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “I love Cab Calloway,” she breathed in awe.
“Yeah? That so?”
“Yes. But we don’t listen to his records in our house because my mother thinks his music is inappropriate.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean. My parents were all right with it until they heard ‘Reefer Man’ and my mother nearly lost her mind. Now he’s not allowed in here at all.”
“It’s unfortunate, isn’t it? Older people just don’t know good music these days.”
The corners of Billy’s mouth turned up as he mixed her drink: brandy, apple juice, lemon juice, and a splash of vodka. He poured some scotch for himself and then he handed his lady her glass. “It’s unfortunate that my parents don’t know that there’s a record of Cab Calloway’s hidden in my bedroom.”
Sue gasped in surprised delight, quickly discarding George Gershwin in favor of her little glass of cheer. “Oh, you sneak! Does that mean you…have a Victrola in your bedroom, as well?”
Damn! He didn’t. The one they stood next to was the only one in the house.
“I don’t. But if you like, I can go and get it and we can listen to it.”
“Yes, please! Does it have Minnie The Moocher on it?”
“What do you take me for?”
At that, Sue giggled with glee as she turned up her glass and then she licked her lips happily. “Why, this is divine! What is it?”
Billy smiled with pride. “It’s called an Apple Blossom. An apple blossom for my perfect flower.”
He thought she was going to melt right into the floor.
Before she melted, however, he excused himself upstairs to get the record she’d requested. Or that he’d offered. Bah, it didn’t matter. She was happy, that was what mattered.
In no time at all, the pair were listening to song after song, dancing around together, as Billy prepared drink after drink in between. They laughed and they tasted different concoctions, and he even managed to get her in his arms a couple of times before, boldly, Sue giggled and took his hand, leading him to the couch across the room.
Curling up next to him, so very close, she tucked her ankles underneath her, careful not to spill her newly mixed drink. “Oh, Billy,” she cooed. “This has been the most wonderful evening. I’m having so much fun.”
Suppressing a hiccup and ignoring the sudden spinning of the room, Billy smiled back at her. “That so? I’m glad. But the fun’s not over, yet.”
Arching a mischievous eyebrow, Sue turned up her glass. “It isn’t, is it? What more could there possibly be to do?”
The last thing Billy remembered was the close proximity of her lips to his.
* * * * *
The room spun. It was quiet. Deathly quiet. The lights were on. And he was alone.
Billy was alone.
He blinked his hazy eyes slowly, fighting for focus. The ceiling. He was looking up at the white ceiling, the large, crystals from the chandelier glinting off of the bright lamp light.
Slowly, he sat up on the couch. One of his feet already rested on the floor. His right arm was numb from having been dangling off the edge. But, despite the swimming in his head, the room remained eerily deserted.
Sue?
Where was Sue?
His stomach flip-flopped as he struggled to stand. Maybe she had gone up to his bedroom. If he was lucky, she was curled up on his bed and maybe between the couch and his bedroom, he will have regained the energy to continue the evening. What time was it? His eyes unsuccessfully landed on a couple of clocks, but he couldn’t read them. The only thing he was sure of was coming face-to-face with his mother halfway up the stairs.
“Mother,” he slurred, gripping the wooden railing as if his life depended on it. “Sue. Where’s…where’d she go? Where’s Sue?”
He could focus on her face enough to see the thin line her lips made. The thin line of displeasure. The thin line of disappointment. “Your father drove her home.”
“No,” he barked, losing his balance momentarily. “No, she’s my date. I drive her home!”
“Son, you are barely in a position to hold yourself upright, do you really think you would have been capable of seeing your date home safely? Get up there to bed, we’ll discuss this in the morning.”
“No!” He protested. “No. Our date wasn’t over. It’s not up to you and the old man to decide when my date is over!”
“You watch your language, young man!”
“You watch yours,” he shot back.
“I’m not going to stand here for this any longer. When we walked in the door, you were out cold on the couch and poor Sue was trying to wake you up. You panicked the poor girl, son. Simply panicked her. You made a complete and utter fool of yourself and no son of mine will tarnish this family’s good name. You are a Connors! And it’s high time you acted like one.”
“Yeah?” He sneered at her. “I’ll act like one when Dad does.”
He barely had time to breathe before his mother’s hand stung his cheek like wildfire.
Stunned, he stumbled down a couple of steps backward. Stunned only for a moment, and then he was angry. “I don’t have to take this from you. I don’t have to take this from anyone!”
Getting from the staircase to the yard had been a blur. The world spun a little less but his stability hadn’t gotten any better. The moon above shone brightly, casting a glow over millions upon millions of blades of grass as far as his impaired vision could see. The occasional night breeze was hardly noticeable as his body overheated itself in its own fight to keep the liquor in his stomach.
Absinthe. The last thing he remembered pouring was absinthe. Because, apparently, the scotch hadn’t been doing it for him.
Never in his life would he drink absinthe again.
Never in his life would he drink anything again.
He stood there, swaying, or so it felt, when his eyes fell on the garage off in the distance. The doors were closed, the both of them. Or at least he thought they were. Which was interesting, considering that his father never bothered to close the door after driving the car out of it, something his mother always fussed about.
When a glint of light caught his eye beyond the garage, Billy was filled with a sudden, unexplainable mixture of confusion and rage. In the barn just beyond the garage, yellow light shown through the bottom of the closed door. So his father was home. Sue didn’t live far away, so that made sense, but what in the hell was he doing in the barn at…what time was it? This time of the night? His father didn’t even like the barn.
Between the stumbling and the churning of his stomach and the spinning of the earth, it felt like it took centuries to make the trek across the yard and to the door. When he finally slumped his shoulder against the doorway, he heard sounds. Sounds. There were sounds. There was no radio or Victrola in the barn—it was impossible. Billy knew that much. What in the hell was…?
Before he knew it, the knob was turning in Billy’s hand. His grip tightened on it as the door opened to keep himself from falling into it. As the door creaked, the sounds grew frighteningly louder and the visual caused Billy’s stomach to jump up into his throat. His eyes widened and, suddenly, the world was still. There was no spinning, there was no stumbling, there was nothing hazy or blurry about his vision anymore. Instead, across the barn in front of him, was the most sickening sight he had ever laid his eyes on. Nothing could have ever prepared him for this. Nothing could have prepared him for the ending of his own sanity. The ending of his life as he knew it. Nothing could have ever prepared him for…for any of this.
Polka dots. He saw them. Polka dots that weren’t the product of impaired vision. These polka dots were wrapped around the waist of smooth, pink skin. A cascade of perfect, blonde curls bounced between the shoulder blades of a bare back. And the sounds. They grew louder. Deafeningly louder. Dangerous—dangerously louder. “Yes!” The shrill voice seemed to scream. Billy’s ears nearly bled. “Yes, Daddy Connors, yes! Yes!”
“That’s it,” a gruff grunt erupted from underneath the horror. “That’s it, baby girl, who’s your daddy? Who’s your daddy?”
Billy heard the crash before he saw his own blood. He was on the floor, nearly buried underneath a pile of yard tools. The sleeve of his white dress shirt was torn and his forearm bled from the scratch he received from the metal rake on his way down.
The blood-curdling scream interrupted the momentary distraction of his arm and, as he struggled to peel himself off of the bed of wood and metal, a whir of polka dots and blonde hair shot past him and disappeared out of the barn door and into the night. When he finally righted himself, his father—the man he had looked up to his entire life up until this very moment—had lifted himself from the fragrant haystack and was hastily readjusting his own clothing. The old man’s face was blood red and Billy startled himself by wondering if a heart attack was close behind—and if he would even run for help if it was.
Billy wanted to speak. He fought desperately to find the words but his throat seemed to close up in the exact same instance that the bile was forcing itself up from his stomach. And if he did speak, what would he say? There were so many words, so many things…so much that the overwhelming emotions that were rushing over him were beginning to make his head throb.
Rage.
Betrayal.
Disbelief.
Rage.
Rage.
RAGE!
They would burn in hell, the both of them! His sick, disgusting, despicable father and his filthy whore of a now ex-girlfriend. Bessie would have never done this to him. And Billy was instantly reminded of the way Zac Hanson, a dirty gypsy, had officially taken everything that he ever had left in his life away from him.
Zac. This was all his fault. If he had never entered the picture in the first place, this would never have--
The pounding of the back of his skull against hard wood brought Billy back to the matter at hand. His father’s breath was laden with the forbidden scent of the treasurer’s daughter as he held his face so threateningly close to his son’s. “If you breathe a word of this to your mother, you’ll sorely regret it, do you understand me?” He spat through his teeth.
“You fucked my girlfriend!”
“I didn’t give her anything she didn’t want. Clearly you weren’t going to seal the deal. And you call yourself my son.”
“From this day forward, you are not my father. You’ll burn in hell!”
“I will ruin you, boy! Don’t you understand that? I will ruin you!”
“I’m already ruined. You already ruined me!”
“Stop whining like a little girl and man up! This is our little secret, just between us men. Okay? Think of it as…why, as bonding. I taught you a lesson. That’s what this is. Just a father teaching his son how to keep his woman interested. Right?”
But Billy had no words. His father was…he was trying to justify this. He was trying to make it right. But nothing would ever be right again. Not ever again. He could never hate anyone more than he hated his father…not even Zac Hanson.
And, so, Billy did the only thing he could do underneath the physical pressure of his father’s fists pressed against the sides of his neck. He gathered what little bit of his insides had built up in his throat and he projected it—right into his father’s face.
The blow that he took as a result landed him right back into the familiar bed of yard tools. His father’s breathing had quickened as he hovered menacingly over his son. Billy’s cheek stung, but not as much as his father’s betrayal did.
“Don’t forget who I am,” District Attorney Stanley Connors sneered down at him. “The very moment this leaves this barn, I will ruin you. Son or no son.”
Before he knew it, Billy was alone.
And he was alone. So utterly alone. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew his father was right. To some degree that Billy never had the courage to address, he feared his father. His father would ruin him. Permanently, no doubt.
Yes, he was alone. To breathe a word of this to anyone would be sure humiliation. He couldn’t tell his mother. He couldn’t tell Lawrence. And confiding in Bessie Harlow was absolutely out of the question. His father was more right than he intended to be. He didn’t even have to threaten to bury his son six feet under to ruin him, because it had already happened.
On this night—on this crisp, clear summer night—Billy Connors found himself with nothing left to lose.