Body Rides (39 page)

Neal opened his napkin, too.

‘Make sure ya don’t drop that on the floor,’ Sue told him. ‘The way yer lookin, ya wouldn’t never have the guts to bend down and pick it up.’

Neal laughed, and some of the tension eased out of him. He calmed down more while they talked, sipped their margaritas, joked around, and studied the menus.

They both ordered dinners of honey-glazed barbecued pork ribs, corn on the cob, and french fries. When the waiter was about to leave, Neal asked for another round of margaritas.

‘So,’ Sue said, ‘are ya fixin to marry Marta?’

‘Maybe. Not necessarily.’

‘She seemed real nice, from what I heard.’

Neal frowned for a moment, confused.
How did Sue . . .?
‘Oh, that’s right.’

‘Forgot I was in ya?’

‘It had slipped my mind.’

‘I don’t wanta go and butt in on yer business, but . . .’

‘But you’re going to do it?’

‘Well . . .’ She frowned. ‘Thing of it is, seems like yer sorta
scared
of Marta. Ya know? I saw that without ever usin the bracelet. Ya never told her ’bout the bracelet, for one thing. For another, ya ran off just ’cause-a them . . .
the
scratches on yer arms. See what I mean? Then on the phone, only reason why ya told her ’bout me was ’cause ya figured she’d find out sooner or later, anyhow. Ya figured it’d go easier if ya fessed up at the start.’

He stared at Sue. He took a deep breath.

This is what I get for letting her use the bracelet. Is there anything she doesn’t know?

‘So?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sayin ya oughta dump her or nothin . . .’

‘Or anything.’

‘Right. I’m not sayin that.’

‘Well, good.’

‘I’m not sayin there’s somethin
wrong
with her, either. I’m
only
sayin ya ain’t even married yet, but she’s already got ya toein the line and scared ya might do somethin to piss her off.’

‘I love her,’ Neal said.

And felt as if he’d spoken the words too easily.

‘If you say so,’ Sue said. ‘Only thing is, I figure ya love
me
more than ya do her.’

‘You’re nuts. I hardly even know you.’

‘Don’t forget, I been in yer head.’ Enunciating each word carefully as if venturing forward with a new language, she repeated, ‘I’ve been . . . in . . . your head.’

Neal paid the bill with his credit card and, as they walked out of the restaurant, he checked his wristwatch.

Ten till seven.

‘Late for a date?’ Sue asked.

‘The park closes at ten,’ he said.

‘What we oughta do,’ she suggested, ‘is maybe hurry right on over to the rides and leave the resta the shops and stuff for later. Think so?’

‘I think so,’ he said.

‘I think so, too.’ Smiling, Sue took hold of his hand. ‘Thanks for the dinner. It sure hit the spot. Those ribs, they were lip-smackin’ good.’

‘They were good, all right,’ he said.

‘Did I say that okay?’

‘You said it fine.’

‘Catch how I didn’t call ’em
them
ribs?’

‘I noticed.’

‘They sure were delicious,’ she said, speaking with care.

‘Yes, they were.’

Neal, at dinner, had noticed only vaguely how sweet and tangy the ribs tasted. For the most part, he hadn’t been able to focus on the food. His mind had been spinning – not so much from the margaritas as from Sue. His heart had gone thumping along too fast. He’d had an achy, tight feeling in his throat and, throughout the meal, an erection of varying stiffness in his pants.

It hadn’t helped at all, being told she was drawerless.

Nor had it helped, watching the way she licked and sucked the sticky barbecue sauce off her fingers, sometimes moaning with pleasure and rolling her eyes.

This is what
did
help.

Shortly before the food’s arrival, Sue had turned the conversation into a direction that had nothing to do with women or drawers. ‘It isn’t that I
don’t
know sorta how to talk right. Just that I never done it much. Never had no call to. How ’bout ya point out where I’m goin wrong?’

‘Are you sure you want to be bothered with it?’

‘Sure. I don’t wanta go round bein an embarrassment to ya, soundin like Jed Clampett. Shoot, you’re a big ol’ movie writer.’

Neal laughed. ‘Not that big. Maybe someday.’

‘Anyhow, I gotta learn me how to talk right.’ The way she grinned, saying that, she’d known it was a doozy.

‘Well,’ Neal said, ‘let’s start with double negatives. They’re not no good.’

Sue grinned.

After that, when they weren’t drinking margaritas, chewing food or trying to lick sauce off their fingers, they were talking about how Sue might improve her verbal skills.

Being Sue’s teacher had helped Neal. He’d been able to focus on language, and nothing else, for moments at a time.

But he’d never been able to free himself from the knowledge that Sue was aware of how he felt about her.

She knows I’ve fallen for her
.

She’s got no panties on
.

By the time they walked out of the Mess o’ Ribs Mess Hall, he felt exhausted. He looked at his wristwatch. The park would close in three hours.

‘Late for a date?’ Sue asked.

Neal and Sue walked hand in hand toward the opening at the rear of the stockade fence.

The sun had just gone down behind the mountains to the west. The ridge blocking it was edged with blinding gold, which vanished as they passed beneath the rustic branch-sign that read, UNTAMED TERRITORIES.

‘Well, now,’ Neal said.

Sue squeezed his hand and grinned at him.

‘This is the real thing,’ he told her.

‘Real what?’ she asked.

‘Carnival.’

Though the sun had barely gone down, all the lights in the Untamed Territories burned brightly, filling the dusk with reds and greens and yellows. Dozens of brilliant colors, it seemed to Neal.

And
noise
.

Carny noise.

The tooting tune of a calliope, somewhere a strumming banjo, the clatter and roar of a rollercoaster, shouts and squeals, the spiel of a barker, the
bam bam bam
from a shooting gallery, bells clanging . . . other sounds, too many for Neal to separate or identify.

Carny noise.

And the carny smells of cigar smoke, cotton candy, popcorn, booze, perfume and suntan lotion . . .

And the people.

Not the mobs that would normally be found at Disneyland, Magic Mountain or Knotts Berry Farm, but a great many more people than Neal expected to find at a place like the Fort. They couldn’t all be locals. Neal supposed that some must come from Reno, Sparks, Truckee, Lake Tahoe . . .

They looked like cowboys, truckers, carpenters, waitresses, students, mountain hikers taking a break from the wilds, school teachers, middle-aged hippies, and spritely retired folks. There were young married couples. Babies in strollers and backpacks. Little kids running around shouting. Clusters of teenage guys trying to look cool and tough. Clusters of teenage girls snapping gum, smirking, whispering and giggling. And teenage couples roaming around hand in hand, looking enthralled by each other.

Not a gangster in sight, Neal noticed.

He saw cowboy hats, tight jeans and boots. No baggy trousers hanging at half-mast, no bulky shirts or overcoats worn to hide the bulges of a 9mm semi-auto, a sawed-off shotgun or a Uzi.

‘Well, Tonto, we ain’t in L.A. anymore,’ Neal muttered.

‘Aren’t,’ Sue told him. ‘And
I
never
have
been. In L.A. But yer gonna take me there tomorrow, right?’

He smiled and shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just might want to stay here where it’s nice and safe.’

‘S’pose it’s safe on the Pony Express?’

‘I doubt it,’ Neal said.

The enormous, white framework of the rollercoaster loomed above all the other rides and attractions at the far end of the midway. It looked like a railroad bridge built by a madman, the tracks climbing into the dusky sky then swooping down, steep as a cliffside, banking into hairpin turns and climbing again.

All of it festooned with lights like a Christmas tree.

As Neal stared at the distant structure, a train of half a dozen cars crested its highest summit and plunged straight down. He saw many of the riders raise their arms high as if surrendering. He heard faint, faraway screams of terror and delight.

‘Lordy,’ he said.

‘Still wanta go on it, don’t ya?’

‘We owe God a death.’

‘Nobody’s gonna die.’ They started walking toward the distant ride. ‘If yer scared,’ Sue said, ‘ya can always stay behind on a bench, or somethin, kiss yer bracelet and go along on the ride with me.’

‘I’m not scared.’

‘Liar, liar, pants on fire.’

‘At least I’m
wearing
pants.’

She bumped him gently. ‘Ya don’t have to tell the whole world.’

‘You there!’

Neal turned his head.

A guy in a cowboy hat and a red apron, standing behind the knee-high counter of a game booth, held up a softball. He seemed to be staring straight at Neal.

‘Yeah, you! Step right over here! Win the little lady a fabulous prize! One ball for a dollar! Knock over all three bottles, and win! Step right up, duke! Show her what you’ve got!’

Neal smiled sheepishly, shook his head, and kept on walking.

‘Don’t ya wanta show me what you’ve got?’ Sue asked, grinning.

‘I’m not much good at games like that. Would
you
like to try it?’ he asked

‘Me? I wanta go on the Pony Express.’

So they kept on walking down the dusty lane between game booths, snack shops, souvenir stands, a variety of rides and funhouses – looking but not stopping. With every step Neal took, the Pony Express seemed to grow higher.

By the time they reached the far end of the midway, it towered above them – a colossus of rickety, white-painted beams strung with colored lights.

They took their place at the rear of the line.

Sue tilted back her head, shook it from side to side, and said, ‘She sure is a
big
booger.’

‘There’s no law that says we have to ride it.’

‘Sure there is. Sue’s Law. “Don’t worry ’bout it, just do it.”’

‘That law could get a person into loads of trouble.’

‘I’ve done okay by it.’

‘Well, I imagine we’ll probably survive.’

As the line became shorter, however, Neal started to imagine otherwise. He pictured a whole string of cars leaping off a high stretch of tracks and flying out over the park – himself and Sue in the front car.

Plunging through the night, crashing through trees . . .

It’s not going to happen, he told himself.

But what if there’s an earthquake . . .?

Or a mad bomber blows up a section of tracks . . .?

‘Ya okay?’ Sue asked.

‘Fine. Just a small case of the jitters.’

‘Ever been on any rollycoasters before?’

‘Oh, sure. Lots of them.’

‘Not me,’ Sue said.

He couldn’t believe his ears. ‘
You’ve never been on a roller-coaster?
’

‘Nope. Never been to a place that had one, till now.’

‘
You’ve never been to an amusement park?
’

She grinned. ‘Ain’t I amazin?’

Neal shook his head. ‘It’s awful,’ he said.

‘Well, it ain’t the enda the world. I’m here now, right?’

He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You’re here now. And if we miss anything tonight, we’ll come back tomorrow.’

And when we get back to L.A., he thought, I’ll take her everywhere. Disneyland, Knotts, Magic Mountain, Universal Studios . . .

Universal was a motion picture studio, not exactly an amusement park. He wanted to take Sue there, anyway.

And the Venice boardwalk.

The Hollywood Walk of Fame.

The L.A. County Fair, though it wouldn’t come along until September.

The Gene Autry Museum . . .

Take her everywhere, show her everything, share her delight.

Maybe
not
the Venice boardwalk, he thought. Might have to spend the day dodging bullets and knives.