 |
| Stories Bingo’s Home Bingo’s Lair |
|
Driving Lessons Chapter 14 |
|
|
My duties were varied and evolved over time. I got to know Jethro and appreciate what he did. Some in town thought the pizzeria was a mob front to launder money but, to me, all its other activities would have jeopardized that purpose. Jethro was a former coal miner from Kentucky, born in this country of Italian parents. He could easily shift from the patois of a barely educated immigrant speaker, to the slang of the hills, to the union activist's fiery rhetoric, to that of a plain spoken small businessman. Depending on the situation, the audience, and his purpose a particular nature appeared. He was a master of organization. The warren of private and common rooms behind Piacevole Pizza, the apartments in town, varied and conflicting schedules (at times it was like Grand Central Station with people leaving and coming) was a demonstration of his skill. My job was to guide people, I was the conductor. He made sure the trains ran on time and got where they needed to go with proper cargo and passengers. I had to be polite, even when I was forcibly removing someone, which didn't happen often. I had to quickly learn how to read people and discern their unspoken needs and remember customers and treat them as old friends. I wore a black jacket when I was on duty. I no longer looked like a kid and I stood out in a room full of men in suits. At Piacevole Pizza there were private rooms upstairs, mostly used for one on one liaisons and most often self-organized by the users. They rented a room for a specified period of time, brought who they wanted in one of the several entrances. I began to believe the whole block was Piacevole's warren, the shoe and print shops next door just part of an impressive facade. I never learned all of its intricacies. Private rooms might be used by a boss and their secretary for a short term liaison. For a longer term affair, Jethro had apartments to let or could help find a specific one to fit various needs, usually based on privacy and ease of access. Common rooms were almost all a public service. Girls usually reserved these for parties, private or open to the public. Piacevole's cut, the first pizza, was its cost. Other food and beverages were paid for by those in the room. This brought in a little business, people weren't there to eat but did get hungry or wanted a coke. I ferried food and people to these rooms and the rule was I could participate if I wanted, after work, and if those in the common room were amiable. The girls were housewives mostly, some were students and some were professional prostitutes who used the common rooms as a calling card to increase their book. Some girls were on a lark, some had special needs, some wanted a little money. If a girl needed an abortion, Jethro could help her find a willing doctor and a way to pay. He was a counselor of sorts and I had to be able to spot these situations. The girl who sat too long at a table in front not able to look at anyone. By the way to pay, it wasn't necessarily on their backs. He knew a lot of people in town, probably better knew what was actually going on than most anyone else. For instance, that second night during a lull, we sat down with cokes and he said, "Kid, it isn't the end of the world out there. If people can hold on for a few months it'll be back to normal. What Barkley and his gang are doing is fouling up the works, closing down the plant so it'll have to be sold cheap. They want to get rid of a couple of investors. More money for their pockets. The plant will be bought by a new company and open again and people back to work. There'll be a lot of overtime because Barkley and his gang will need to make a lot of money quick. Pensions are shot, new wage contracts favorable to the bosses so the workers get the shit end again, but that's not the main reason this is happening. It's just a little squabble amongst the bosses. Someone insulted someone's wife. It's as simple as that. Tell your dad I think things will be back as they were in six months. Your family needs anything, you see me about it. Understand?" Then he switched subjects. "That girl of yours, the Barkley girl, is something else, isn't she? She's a big hit in nigger town." He winked and went back to his work. It was easy to like Jethro and be completely disgusted at the same time. I put my coke, unfinished, on the counter and went back to work. By the end of the week I was driving the car, operating the taxi service, dropping girls off and picking them up. This is where Jethro made his money, guessing by the places I went, big houses on the bluff, the finest hotel in town, and nice penthouse apartments. It wasn't all so simple. I had to move a girl out of an apartment, apparently her replacement was due late in the afternoon. This was a place over a hardware store. Up a dark narrow stairway to a single door which opened to a big room looking like it was a set in a movie. Furniture, rugs, pictures on the wall, girl in nice clothes like Marianne would wear, a HiFi with AR speakers and stacks of records and a big color TV next to it. I'm sure more went on than watching TV or listening to records but that's what it looked like they did. That and drink from fancy glasses. She was young, dark haired and had a sweet face. Not beautiful like Marianne. A girl who it'd be easy to know, not too fancy. She had a lost look and was sitting on the couch, wearing one of those shimmery robes that cling to the body in the right places. "So, are you all packed?" She shook her head, got up, poured a glass, turned and asked me, "Want one?" "We have to leave. Remember? You're supposed to be ready." "I'm not ready." She sat on the couch, spun the glass between her fingers. "I see that. Go ahead, drown yourself. I'll pack your stuff." She jerked my arm before I was in the bedroom. "Don't you put your stinking hands on my things." "Then you do it. We have to leave in ten minutes if you're going to get to the airport on time." "I'm not ready." Before I left to do this job Jethro primed me. "She'll either be meek and proper and there'll be no fuss, or she'll be a witch, mad as hell. Do what you need to do to get her out of there by two. The cleaning people will be there at two-thirty to take care of any mess. Sometimes things are thrown. Understandable, nobody likes to be fired. Randy brings the new girl in at five. Hopefully this one will last longer. So. You have the money? Good. Buy the ticket at the airport, wherever she wants, so long as it's far away. Myself, I'm always partial to LA." So the girl and I did a little dance, she back and forth to the bar, me for the bedroom. Nothing was thrown. She was too angry to cry, too angry to leave the place. In the end we made a deal while we were hashing it out in the doorway to the bedroom. She was getting plastered and starting to show herself off, letting the robe slip off her shoulder. So I grabbed her, kissed her and she pushed me away. "Go ahead, pack my things." She sat on the couch in the other room with her glass. I had most everything out on the bed ready for the suitcases, really nice clothes, when I heard something break in the other room and she began stomping about. I watched her from the doorway for a minute. "You need to pick out what you're going to wear so it doesn't get packed." She gave me the finger and poured something out of a bottle onto the HiFi turntable. The clean up crew was going to have fun. She wasn't really demolishing the place, but a quick sweep wasn't going to clean this mess. I waited until she put down the bottle, grabbed her and pushed her into the bedroom. "Get busy," I said. She kicked back with her heel and struggled as I held her hands over her head. "I hate you." "Look, this is just a job for me. Don't take it personal. I'll drive you to the airport, buy a ticket out of town, we can have a drink and talk nicely to each other. I'll hand you an envelope when you get on the plane. You don't want to stay here, do you?" She was struggling, her back twisting against me, trying to turn. Maybe she'd gouge my eyes out, maybe she'd fall into my arms. It was impossible to tell. I shook her. "Do you?" "Let go of me, you bastard." "I'm not the guy getting rid of you for some other girl and can't tell you to your face. I'm the guy who's going to give you an envelope full of money and a ticket away from here." She relaxed. "I want to see it." "At the airport." She struggled again, but more like she was going to fall into my arms, not kill me. I was remembering Candy a few days ago and how I felt, still was feeling. "Look, I'm a minion. I just got dumped myself. It'll never be the same. If I could, I'd go somewhere else." "Minion. That's cute. You can let go of me." I released her wrists and she stepped away, rubbing them, not looking at me. "The white dress. I'll get what I want. You stay there." She took off the robe, tossed it to me. "There, this goes." She was naked wearing high heels. Nice legs. The rest was nice too. More like the girl than Marianne. She was picking through things, tossing some to me to put in the bags. "So how much is in the envelope?" "A lot." "Fifty cents is a lot to a ten year old." "Fifteen hundred." "So I'm just a car to be replaced by next year's model." She handed me some bras which I stuck in a suitcase. "Nice chassis." "How about the body style?" "You remind me of this girl I knew." "I bet." She was stomping again. "Look. I lost this girl and think of her all the time. She wasn't just a car to me." "A goon with feelings." "Minion sounds nicer." "I'll give you five dollars to fuck me." She was smiling now, standing still. "You don't have to give me a thing." "I bet. Five dollars. It's in the purse over there. You take that and I'll take your envelope later on." "You sure?" "Fuck me like you think I'm her since I remind you so much." She stood by the bed. "Over there." I found the wallet, pulled a five and showed her before stuffing it in my pocket. "Now pretend I'm her." "She liked it rough." "I'm ready for rough." I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back and kissed her hard as my fingers rubbed her slit. She resisted and then began to lean against me. I shoved her face down on the bed and slapped her ass hard, again shoving three fingers in her, my other hand pushing her down by her neck. "Beg for it," I said. She tried to shake her head. I slammed her face into the bed and spanked her hard. "Beg for it." She tried to turn over but I held her down. "Beg for it in your ass." She said no, no, no but her ass was rising off the bed into my hand as I spanked her. I let go of her neck and she raised her ass higher, raised herself onto her knees. I moved behind her, freeing my cock. I plunged into her cunt. "Beg for it up the ass." "No. I won't. You—" I shoved hard and was in her ass completely. She rose higher and began to wail as I pounded her. When I was done I lay on top of her, squashing her to the bed. I rolled off, zipped myself in. She rolled away, onto her back. She stared at me and then a smile began. "What happened to her?" "It's no romance. I traded her for another girl some men had." "Men?" "About twenty. I lost the other girl, too." She smiled. "Sounds strangely familiar. Get out of here and I'll finish packing." I got off the bed and was leaving the room when she said, "You deserve a tip." I looked at her. She was sitting on the bed looking at the long smear her lipstick had left on the sheet. She turned to me. "Take a quarter out of my purse for a tip." "My name's Brian." I took a quarter out, pocketed it. "Thank you, Brian." "You were worth every penny." "You, too. Get lost. I'll be ready in fifteen minutes." Driving
Lessons next chapter
|
|