Bad Dad. Alice Shane
around in micro-minis and wiggling her ass like one of those whores who hang out in front of Taylor’s Bar in town. He honestly didn’t know who he hated more: his father’s new wife who would probably grab everything that might have been his, or Mary Lou whose manipulations dragged him down so badly.
He wondered if Dad was still the same control freak who used to make him account for every expenditure from his monthly allowance when he was a student at Bridgefield. It wasn’t that Dad gave him too little money. It was just that he had to justify every dime – keep records of his purchases, balance his checkbook, show it to his father every month on Parents Day. Lester would point out where Danny was overspending, or spending unwisely. Dad called it “inheritance coaching” – his way of training Danny to understand money and its responsibilities. But to Danny, his father’s oversight of his financial behavior was a crushing burden and a terrible invasion of privacy.
I’ll never do that to Charlie, he thought, suddenly realizing he hadn’t seen his son since dinnertime. It was now 8:00 pm and dusk was settling in. The kid should be home by now, Danny thought, alarmed. He monitored the boy’s comings and goings very carefully because he knew pedophiles lived in the area, having checked out a state website identifying them. A trailer park was no place to bring up a child but that was all he could provide right now.
“Where’s Charlie?” he wanted to know, raising his voice so that Mary Lou, who had disappeared into the bedroom, could hear him.
“He’s over at Billy McGrath’s – they’re doin’ their homework together. But it’s getting late. If he’s not home by 8:30, you’ll have to go over there and get him,” Mary Lou shouted from the bedroom where she was lying on the bed, on her back, wrapped in a skimpy pink towel when he appeared in the doorway. “C’mon. Let’s play,” she suggested, opening the towel to reveal round, full breasts, porcelain white skin, a lush mound of light brown pubic hair. Her silky blonde hair was spread every which way over the pillow, her mouth slack and sensual.
That’s typical Mary Lou, always ready for a fuck, Danny thought, feeling too tired to take her up on her invitation. It was supposed to be his day off, but he had spent it working. repairing a power line – a job netting him almost $140 at $18 an hour – $3.00 more per hour than he made during his normal workweek. He accepted these overtime opportunities whenever they presented themselves, no matter how tired he was after a 40- hour week.
“You better get dressed. Charlie will be home soon,” he said, wishing her timing was better. He hated having to police Mary Lou about her appearance around the house. She often dressed suggestively. Her micro mini skirts were an embarrassment to himself and Charlie who sometimes asked Mary Lou if she wore panties under those tiny skirts.
“Whatsa matter, baby? We have time for a little quickie but I guess you ain’t in the mood,” she said in a pouty, whiney voice, rising from the bed, reaching into a closet for a robe, her round, perfect tush in full view.
“Now’s not the time, ok? I’m going over to the McGrath’s to pick Charlie up. It’s starting to get dark.”
He was anxious to get away from Mary Lou’s sexual demands. Besides, he wanted to check out the McGrath household, see what kind of people they were. If his son was spending time there, he wanted to be sure it was a wholesome place.
“OK, honey,” Mary Lou said good-naturedly. “When you get home, we’ll have dessert. I made some chocolate fudge brownies this afternoon. How’s that?”
“Sounds good!,” he said, walking out the door, not caring about dessert. He had other, more important things on his mind.
CHAPTER 12
He walked briskly down Carter Street which was lined with mobile homes. The sidewalks were narrow, with barely enough space to navigate. There were no trees. Most of the front lawns had sparse little patches of yellowish grass, bleached by the hot South Carolina sun.
The parched front lawns reminded Danny of the terrain on his father’s ranch in Wyoming that had been converted to gas wells. The soil there was dry from seasonal droughts – 1500 acres with patches of sagebrush and deep gullies that once were streams and ponds, where lizards and rabbits scampered about, rattlers slumbered under rocks, and antelopes chomped on sagebrush.
Back then, when he was still a kid, his father had just earned his pilot’s license. Lester had flown the two of them to Wyoming in a single engine Cessna – before his parents’ divorce, before Mary Lou, before Charlie. They landed at the Casper airport where a van packed with camping equipment and food supplies waited. They drove toward the Fuller Energy ranch near Pinedale, hoisted a tent and camped on a section of the property where, from a distance, flares from huge gas drilling rigs could be seen on the horizon.
Those days were idyllic, Danny reflected nostalgically. Having his father to himself for weeks at a time, away from his mother’s unpredictable moods was a rare, special experience. Lester taught him how to use a rifle, set up a tent, prepare food over an open fire. He drove Danny around where gas wells were being drilled, introduced him to rig operators, geologists and hydraulics engineers, and talked to him about the importance of responsibility and hard work.
“You’re going to inherit a substantial fortune one of these days – but that doesn’t mean you won’t be expected to work hard and be productive,” Dad told him one night around the camp fire after they had consumed steaks, corn on the cob and brownies.
Danny now wondered if he would inherit anything from his father. Would Margo grab everything? Would his father leave him a token sum, just enough to placate him and no more? He bristled at the thought of all that wealth, unavailable to him, with Margo the primary beneficiary. He was tired of being poor. He longed for the good life, the life he left behind.
Well, it wasn’t such a bad idea, Mary Lou contacting Dad, he thought. Maybe the old boy will come across with some moolah after all.
CHAPTER 13
The narrow pale yellow mobile home where the McGraths lived was the last home on the block, built atop a concrete slab, on a tract that was slightly larger than the other lots. A mud-stained dark blue Ford SUV was parked outside. Danny could see lights flickering inside the house and assumed the TV was on. He hoped Charlie had not been distracted by the TV in lieu of working on his science project.
Poor kid. Never a moment’s downtime, Danny reflected. Because he attended classes for intellectually gifted children, Charlie had earned the privilege of being assigned special projects, requiring that he spend countless hours after school doing homework. He usually came home from school with a pile of books stuffed into his red backpack.
Too much weight for such a young boy to carry around, Danny thought sadly. Only nine years old and so little time to play, to be a child.
Danny could hear the TV from outside the door where he now stood, the sounds of machine guns, cars crashing, violence. He knocked lightly, then more loudly when there was no response. Finally, a woman came to the door wearing a silky white robe. Her hair was long, stringy, and appeared to be damp. She was barefoot, vampish in appearance. He didn’t find her particularly attractive. Actually, Mary Lou was better looking, he thought. He had to give her credit for that, even if she did slither around like a whore in those short skirts. He didn’t like it, of course – it seemed inappropriate for a married woman with a kid to dress like that, particularly in front of the boy. He should talk to her about it, he decided, although he knew any criticism coming from him would piss her off. She would surely try to shut him up with her usual spiteful remarks.
“Forgive the getup, but I just got out of the shower,” the woman said, her eyes narrowing, sizing him up. “You’re Charlie’s dad, right?’’ she asked breathlessly, puffing on a cigarette. She smiled self consciously, revealing nicotine-stained teeth. Without waiting for a response, she yelled, “Hey, Charlie, you’re dad’s here!” Her voice was thick, husky. Booze and smoking, Danny surmised.
A thin, dark-haired boy in a striped t-shirt and jeans suddenly appeared at the door. He descended the steps where Danny stood waiting. Normally