Ray Garton - Trailer Park Noir

” Stop it , Lissa!” Sherry snapped. She raised her hands and buried her fingers in her hair on both sides of her head. “Just stop it , please. My God , I need a cigarette. And a drink.”

Sherry went to the end table, found her Marlboros, and lit one up with a red butane lighter.

Philpott stood leaning on the kitchen counter and ate his cereal.

“I wish I’d gone with Rob now,” Lissa said, her voice quavering. She turned and stared down at the long lump in the blanket on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Lissa,” Sherry said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m… tense. I really appreciate you stayin’ here with me. Both of you, thank you for stayin’, really.”

Philpott put his cereal down and held up a half-full bottle of tequila. “You serious about having that drink?”

“Yeah,” Sherry said. She went to the kitchen, took a glass from the counter and rinsed it out. She held out the glass and Philpott poured.

He was short and pudgy with bright red hair and a face covered with freckles. He took a glass down from the cupboard and poured some tequila for himself, took a few swallows, then picked up his cereal and finished eating it, drank the remaining milk out of the bowl, then put the bowl in the sink.

“Lissa’s right,” Sherry said. “What’re we gonna do with him without getting ourselves in trouble?”

A brief frown could not darken Philpott’s open, optimistic face. “We’ll ask Andy when he gets back. Maybe David will be with him and we can find out who this guy is.”

Sherry thought of the corpse’s open eyes and mouth and took a couple gulps of tequila. “Hurry home, Andy,” she said.

Steve Regent, in unit five, heard a car pull up in front of his trailer and idle for a moment. He suspected it was his ten o’clock appointment. Sure enough, the engine was killed. Regent tried to make all his appointments during the daytime – they looked more legitimate that way. But this woman insisted on meeting him at ten at night, it was the only time she was available.

Regent went to his door, opened it, and took a step down. He waved at the small compact car parked across the entrance to his driveway. She got out of the car, and he held the door open for her as she entered the trailer.

“I hope it’s okay, where I parked,” she said.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he said.

He kept his trailer well-lit inside so he could see them as soon as they entered, get a good look at them. They did the same thing over at Josh Garner’s house. Garner was his partner, and they usually did most of their business at the house he kept in Redding just for this purpose, but this woman had spoken to Regent and he’d been the one to talk her into it, so he’d had her come to his trailer.

She was nineteen, maybe twenty. She wore a tiny yellow shirt that exposed her flat belly, and a short, tight turquoise skirt. Her bare legs were gorgeous, maybe her best feature. Her face was okay – youthful and clean – but her legs were her selling point, her legs and her ass. Not much in the way of breasts, but she would do.

She stepped into the entryway, which opened onto the den where he kept his computer on a large desk, behind which was a long couch, a couple armchairs, a sideboard where he kept some bottles of liquor and some glasses. He led her to the right, into the living room where the couch and recliner and two other chairs faced the big-screen TV. The living room was attached to a small dining area, which was separated from the kitchen by a bar. A hallway led down to the bedrooms and bathroom.

“Have a seat,” he said.

She sat down at one end of the couch.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he said. “I’m having wine. Would you like some?”

“Sure, that would be nice,” she said.

He went to the kitchen and got another wineglass from the cupboard, poured some chilled white wine into it.

“Now remind me,” he said as he came back into the living room with a glass of wine in each hand, “your name is – “

”Heather,” she said. “Heather Winters.”

Regent handed her the drink, then sat down in an armchair, which he turned to face the couch. His drink was on the lamp table beside the chair. He picked it up and took a sip, then another. “So, Heather Winters, what can I do for you?”

“Well, your ad said you were interested in helping out young women who needed money and were willing to be photographed. That you’d pay up to seven hundred dollars.”

“That’s right.”

“Well – “ She swallowed dryly. She was very nervous, and her right leg bounced up and down frantically. “ – I’m curious to, uh, know what, uh, kind of photographs?”

“It’s nude photography. You need some quick money? I hope nothing’s wrong, Heather.”

She released a quick, nervous laugh. “Well, yeah, something’s wrong, you could say that.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I, uh… I’m, uh… my boyfriend doesn’t know yet because I haven’t told him. I know what he’ll say, what he’ll do. So I’m not going to tell him. I need money for an abortion. I’ll pay for it myself and he’ll never know the difference. I’ll tell him I’m going down to Corning to stay with my sister for a few days. And I will. Afterward. He’ll never know the difference.”

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Heather,” he said.

“Do what?”

“I’m sorry you have the kind of relationship that makes it necessary for you to do something like sneak around that way.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well. It wouldn’t go over, believe me. He’d accuse me of trying to trap him. He’d be… oh, he’d be furious . But he’d never allow me to have an abortion. He’s very conservative and he doesn’t believe in it.”

“That’s too bad. It’s something you two should be able to share joyfully.”

“Yeah, you’d think.”

Heather burst into sobs, put her wineglass on the end table, and quickly grabbed for her purse. She took a tissue from it and wiped her eyes. The sobs passed quickly. “I’m sorry, I’m just… I’m not… myself lately, you know?” She snatched up her wineglass and took a couple big gulps. When she saw how little was left, she finished it.

Regent stood and took the glass. “Let me get you a refill. Unless you’d like something stronger. I have some good scotch.”

“No, the wine’s fine.”

He went to the kitchen, poured more, then returned and handed her the glass, sat down in the chair again.

“Let me tell you the pay scale,” he said. “But first, I’ve gotta ask – are you easily offended?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you going to start slapping me when I give you the pay scale? Because all you have to do is say you’re not interested, you really don’t have to hit me.”

She laughed, a small, soggy sound. “No, I won’t.”

“Have you done any modeling?” he said.

“A little back in high school. My aunt owns a dress shop and I used to do some modeling for her, and I was in some of her newspaper ads.”

“Well, here’s how it works. A hundred dollars for simple nude pictures. If we get more graphic – if you masturbate, for example – then it goes up to two-fifty. Then you have the option of doing video. You can strip on video for three hundred fifty, or you can strip and masturbate for five hundred. And you get seven-fifty if you agree to give me head on camera. That, uh, that would give you the money you need for an abortion.”

“Yes, it would,” she said, but she barely got the words out before sobbing again. She sobbed quietly, her head down, and her shoulders jerked as she got another tissue from her purse. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.