Thrill! (45 page)

She felt shut off from everyone - alone and frightened. Exactly the way she'd felt when she was six years old and the tragedy had taken place . . .

She hated remembering, but sometimes - in moments of trauma - it was inevitable.

She buried her head in her hands, and before she could stop it

- the memories came flooding back.

ft ft ft

"Lara Ann, you're going to live with your Aunt Lucy."

The policewoman who spoke had ruddy cheeks and several hairy warts on her face. Lara Ann concentrated on the warts. If she stared at them hard enough, maybe all the bad things would go away.

For over a week she'd been kept in a child care facility while the authorities tried to track down a relative who would care for her. They'd finally come up with Aunt Lucy, her father's second cousin, who lived in Arizona.

Aunt Lucy didn't come to fetch Lara Ann herself, she sent Mac, her big strapping son. He drove a pick-up truck, chewed gum nonstop, and was quite ugly. He scooped up little Lara Ann, tossing her into the back of the truck as if she was a rag doll. She remained there for most of the long drive to Arizona.

Aunt Lucy, a dour widow woman with a long miserable face,

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owned a small motel, which she ran with the help of her son. Aunt Lucy was not at all affectionate, ana certainly not pleased to be stuck with Lara Ann. She greeted the child with a curt nod, showed her to the tiny storeroom in back where she was to sleep, and the next morning packed her off to the local school.

Lara Ann was utterly traumatized. Nobody mentioned the tragedy to her. Nobody spoke to her about the loss of her family. It was like they'd ceased to exist and not one person cared to address it.

Aunt Lucy certainly didn't mention it. Neither did Mac. Although one day his best friend said to her

"Are you batty? Mac says you are,

"cause your daddy killed your mom. So you gotta be a loony, too."

Lara Ann was frightened and confused. She couldn't understand what had happened, only that her life was in shatters.

She soon realized that Aunt Lucy didn't want her, and even though she was very young, she also sensed that she didn't fit in at the motel. She withdrew into silence - the only safe place - speaking only when spoken to. At school she kept to herself, desperately trying to fade into the background. Unfortunately, as she grew, it was not possible to stay unnoticed, for she was incredibly pretty. By the time she was thirteen, boys were chasing her, even though she gave them no encouragement.

After school and all during summer vacations she helped out at the motel doing the work of a maid - cleaning rooms, scrubbing floors, folding laundry. Mac's best friend worked as a handyman at the motel. He had his eye on her, and even though she was only thirteen and kept to herself, she knew he was watching her.

One day he trapped her in the laundry room, pinned her up against the wall and tried to kiss and grope her. He wanted to do more, but when she started to scream he got nervous and ran.

Aunt Lucy appeared at the door of the laundry room, her long face livid.

"Why are you encouraging him ?"

she yelled.

"What are you ? A tramp like your mother?"

"My mama wasn't a tramp,'Lara Ann whispered.

Aunt Lucy didn't listen. Stern-faced, she proceeded to give her a lecture about how lucky she was that they'd taken her in, even though they could ill ajford to, and she was a terrible burden.

315 A burden ? She was doing a full-time job for no wages. Fervently she vowed that one of these days she would get away from Aunt Lucy, and never speak to her again, because she was a hateful woman.

Sometimes Lara Ann felt like Cinderella. She had no friends, nobody to love and cherish her, nobody who cared. Many nights she'd sob herself to sleep in her little room. School was not much better. She was too pretty to fit in, and they all let her know it. The other girls hated her, and the boys wanted to jump her. Her only solace was reading, and she haunted the school library, getting hold of every book she could. Reading took her to another place - another life. It proved to her that things could be better.

When she was fifteen a tenant shot himself in one of the rooms. Lara Ann discovered the body when she went in to clean, and became hysterical.

Aunt Lucy slapped her across the face and told her to shut up and pull herself together while she called the police.

Two hours later the police arrived, took photographs, hauled the body away, and when the task was completed, Aunt Lucy told her to go in and clean up the mess.

"No!"

Lara Ann shrieked, horrified.

"I can't go in there. I can't!"

"Pretty little miss doesn't want to get blood on her hands?"

Aunt Lucy sneered.

"You get in there and do as I say."

That was the day Lara Ann knew she couldn't take it any more. Unfortunately, she had no choice - there was nowhere for her to run.

And then, one Friday afternoon, a man called Morgan Creedo checked into the motel. Morgan was a half-assed country singer, twenty-nine years old, thin as a whippet, with long blond hair and a weather-beaten, heavily tanned face.

To Lara Ann he was glamour personified. She hovered outside his room, listening to him sing and play his guitar.

"Is he a movie star?"

she whispered to Mac.

"No, he's not a goddamn movie star,"

Mac snapped.

"Why'd you think that?"

"Cause he's so ... special,"

Lara Ann replied.

"Oh, you're just a dumb kid, what do you know?"

Mac sneered.

He was right. She was a dumb kid. An ugly little slut. She didn't

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know anything. Aunt Lucy was always telling her how stupid she was. Mac called her a retard and a loony. Even the kids at school steered clear of her because she wasn't like them.

Maybe I am crazy, she thought to herself. Maybe I'm crazy to have stayed with these people all these years. Because when she remembered her beautiful mother, and her fun-loving brother, and all the cuddles and love she'd received from her father before that fateful night when everything had blown up in her face - she knew life could be good.

Morgan Creedo was appearing in a concert nearby, and she wanted more than anything to go.

"It's not like he's the star,"

Mac said.

"There's about ten other acts, and he's appearing first - which means he's a nobody."

"I'm going to ask him if I can go,"

Lara Ann said.

"Ask away. Lucy won't let you."

But she had no intention of getting Aunt Lucy's permission.

Later that day when she delivered clean towels to Morgan Creedo's room, she found him lying on the bed watching a Western on television.

"Scuse me, sir,"

she ventured.

He barely glanced up.

"Yeah - whaddaya want?"

"I was wondering if you had a spare ticket to your concert,3 she said boldly.

He laughed.

"You wanna come see my concert, little girl?"

"Yes, I'd like that a lot."

"Well, well, well."

He sat up with a broad smile on his face.

"Heard about how good I am, hub?"

"I hope it's not rude, but I've been standing outside your door listening to your singing. You sound real good to me."

"Yeah, I'm pretty damn good, kid. Trouble is I'm the only person who appreciates me."

He got off the bed and stretched. Til get you a ticket. Yougot a name?"

"Lara Ann."

"Lara Ann, huh?"

He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

"How old'reyou?"

"Fifteen."

317 He laughed.

"Old enough, huh?"

"Do you have to be a, certain age to come to your concert?"

she asked, her beautiful face completely innocent.

He laughed again.

"Not what I was talking about, kid. Tell you what - I'll leave you a ticket in the room. The concert's tomorrow night. Come backstage after, I'll buy you a lemonade."

The next day she found the ticket he'd left for her on the dresser in his room. She stuffed it in her pocket, barely able to conceal her excitement.

That night, after dinner was finished and she'd washed the dishes, she left the kitchen as if she was going to bed as usual, and snuck out the back door, making her way by bus to the concert hall where Morgan Creedo was appearing, her precious ticket clutched tightly in her hand.

The theatre was vast, but Morgan had gotten her a seat right at the front. She was so excited she could barely breathe. Most of the audience had come to see the star act, a female country and western singer, but when Morgan hit the stage, Lara Ann felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

He sang two songs. The audience didn't seem too interested, but Lara Ann clapped until her hands hurt. As soon as he was finished she got up her courage and approached a guard standing at the side of the stage.

"Scuse me,"

she said,

"can you tell me how I get back to see Mr Creedo?"

"Mr Who?"

the guard said.

"He was just up there singing."

"He was, huh? Tougot a backstage pass?"

"No, but he gave me my ticket, and told me to go backstage after."

"OK,"

he said with a dirty laugh.

"Guess there's nothin"

wrong with another groupie gettin"

it on. Go on back, sweetie."

He didn't move, forcing her to squeeze past him. As she did so, he pinched her bottom.

Backstage there were dozens of people running around. She spotted the star of the show with her big lemon-coloured hair, sequined dress and toothy smile. She stopped a girl with magenta curls, carrying a hairbrush.

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"Scuse me,"

she said politely.

"I'm looking for Mr Creedo."

(Oh, you mean Morgan ? He's outta here already."

(I was supposed to meet him. Do you know where he'd be?"

"You're a little young for Morgan, aren't you?"

the girl said, looking her up and down.

"I'm a friend of his."

"Sure you are. Guess he'd be in the bar next door, sweetie, but I wouldn't pursue it if I were you."

"Excuse me?"

"What I mean is, whyn't you go on home. Tou're too young for a reptile like him."

Lara Ann didn't appreciate the girl calling Morgan a reptile. She made her way out of the stage door, and hesitated on the street. There were two bars in sight, one across the street and one next to the theatre. She decided the one next to the theatre might be where he was.

Pushing the door open, she was swept into a crowd of beerdrinking, card-playing men. She looked around, finally spotting Morgan at the bar nursing a glass of tequila. She went over and tapped him on the shoulder.

"What the fuck you want?"

he said, turning around and staring at her with bloodshot eyes.

"I'm from the motel, remember? You left me a ticket. Told me I could come see you tonight. My name's Lara Ann."

"AhJesus, kid."

"You were so wonderful,"

she said, her green eyes shining.

"I was shit,"

he replied bitterly.

"I'm always shit. Did you hear? Those bastards didn't even listen to me. They're not interested they just wanna eyeball thatfuckin'fat blond with the big tits."

1 thought you were wonderful,"

Lara Ann repeated.

He squinted at her.

"You're a pretty little thing,"

he said.

"How old you say you were?"

"Fifteen. But I'll soon be sixteen."

"Big enough and old enough, huh?"

"Beg your pardon ?"

"Nothin', darlin"

- come here."

She moved closer to him.

"You think I'm wonderful, huh?"

i "Oh yes,"

she muttered adoringly.

They were married three weeks later on her sixteenth birthday. Aunt Lucy did not attend.

It wasn't until after they were married that Lara Ann realized Morgan had no home, only the cramped trailer attached to the battered old Cadillac he drove around the country.

"It ain't luxury, honey, but you'll get used to it,"

he informed her.

She didn't care. She finally had somebody who knew she existed and whom she could look after. She'd learned to cook by watching Aunt Lucy; her ironing was impeccable; and she knew how to sew, keep house and clean.

What she didn't know was anything about sex. But this didn't bother Morgan.

"I'm gonna teach you everything you need to know, honey,"

he said.

"This is what you do. Tou get down on your knees and you suck my dick till I come. That's all there is to it."

"That's all'?"

she said, thinking about all the things she'd read about kissing and cuddling and making love.

"Yeah, sogetgoin', honey - I'm gonna teach you how to do it like a pro."

They never did make love in the proper fashion. Morgan told her people only did it that way when they wanted to have kids. She wasn't sure she believed him, but what could she do? He wasn't interested in anything other than her getting down on her knees.