I Gave You My Heart, but You Sold It Online Read online

  Just then, the front door flew open and a bleached blonde the size of an elf announced her presence. “Ladeeezz, Jewel’s in the building! Let’s get this party started!”

  Debbie Sue gaped. Jewel had to be in her seventies. She wore a one-piece formfitting jumpsuit with a leopard-print scarf tied at the waist and black ankle boots with faux-leopard trim. An assortment of beaded bracelets encircled each wrist and her hair was teased to football-helmet size, a do that would make any Texas diva proud. Huge black-framed glasses sat on the tip of her nose.

  Meanwhile, Charlene opened the cooler, which Debbie Sue saw was filled with crushed ice. The auto mechanic’s wife began to mix vodka and 7-Up in the styrofoam cups. “Here y’are, girls. Step right up. Have a swig of the nectar of the gods.” She tossed back a gulp of her own drink.

  “Damn,” Debbie Sue said. “I didn’t know Charlene was a vodka guzzler. How did I miss that?”

  Jewel went outside and returned, rolling in wheeled black suitcases. She opened one and removed a boom box. She set it on the payout counter, pushed a button, and the rhythmic thundering tune by Pink, “Get the Party Started,” bounced off the walls of the salon’s front room. Most of the women, cups of vodka and 7-Up in hand, began singing along and bumping and grinding to the loud music.

  As Debbie looked on, growing more puzzled by the minute, Jewel, stepping and hip-swaying to the thumping beat of the music, moved through the throng with a small jar and a handful of Q-tips. She dipped the Q-tips into the jar and handed them out as she greeted each guest personally. “Hi, hon, I’m Jewel. Glad you could make it. Put some of this on your lips.”

  She danced over to Debbie Sue and handed her a Q-tip. “Here, darlin’. Just smear it on your lips.” Debbie Sue didn’t dare fail to follow the instructions. As soon as she swiped her lips they began to tingle.

  “Feel the buzz?” Jewel said, stepping in time with the music. “Lips ain’t where it goes, but you get the picture.” She giggled and moved on.

  Debbie Sue contorted her mouth. All of the women in the room were doing likewise and giggling.

  “Oh, man, I want a biiig jar of that stuff,” Bethany Nix said, and cackled.

  Allison looked at Debbie Sue with a bewildered expression, passing her tongue over her lips. “This feels funny. What does she mean? Where does it go?”

  Momentarily stumped about what to think, or more to the point, what to do, Debbie Sue shrugged. She, Edwina, and Allison appeared to be the only three who had expected something different from what they were witnessing.

  “Don’t worry,” Jewel told her audience in an elevated voice. “All of our stimulants are edible and sugar-free.” She let out a loud cackle. “No carbs.”

  “Are these diet products?” Allison asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Debbie Sue said, and glanced at Edwina, who appeared to have been rendered speechless. A cookie had almost made it to her mouth, but had been interrupted by the Q-tip and remained frozen in midair.

  Still stepping in time with the music, Jewel pulled out a portable clothesline and began hanging skimpy lingerie items. Allison gravitated to the garments immediately. One category of feminine attire Almost the Rage did not sell was lingerie. “Oh my gosh! These pan ties are missing the…the, the bottoms.”

  Debbie Sue yanked the hank of lacy fabric from her hands and hung it back on the clothesline.

  Jewel started a new pass through the crowd, handing out creams and liquids that tasted fruity and generated sensations on the inside of wrists and on the backs of hands—warming lubricating jelly, fruit-flavored oils, vanilla-scented cream. “Don’t forget,” she shouted to the enthralled audience, “vanilla’s a natural aphrodisiac. And all of our products are edible.”

  “Something tells me I missed something when I was discussing this party with Maudeen,” Edwina finally said.

  “Ladies,” Jewel shouted, “are you ready for the good time?”

  The crowd chorused an enthusiastic “Hell, yeah.”

  She danced her way back to her sample cases and opened one. She lifted out a large plastic bag and, continuing to move to the booming music, handed an item from the bag to each guest. “Here we are, girls,” she yelled over the music. “Take a look. Substitutes for whatcha don’t got at home.”

  The diminutive hostess danced past Debbie Sue, leaving her standing there agape…and holding an enormous rubber penis in one hand and a remote control in the other. And the thing was hot pink.

  Debbie Sue looked around the room, stunned by seeing her most God-fearing, churchgoing customers playing with plastic and rubber sex devices. Every guest had a gadget in hand and was giving it a thorough examination. The word toys flashed in Debbie Sue’s mind. Sex toys! Oh. My. God. Maudeen had tricked her. She crooked her finger at the octogenarian and said in her best Desi Arnaz voice, “Luuucy, you got some splainin’ to do.”

  Maudeen clapped her hands and laughed. “Oh, my lands, isn’t this a nice turnout? I’m so happy.” She turned to Debbie Sue and gave her a little push toward the group. “Dance a little, honey. Mix it up. If you don’t like that thing in your hand, find something else. Take a look at what Eloise is holding. Your ol’ sweetie can put his thing in that when he can’t put it in you. Keeps him out of a whore house.”

  “Maudeen,” Debbie Sue exclaimed, looking closer at the object in Eloise’s hands, which resembled a fist-size glob of translucent fuchsia jelly.

  “I swanee,” Edwina said, shaking her head. “The world we live in these days. Post your picture on the computer and meet a date. And now this.” She pushed the switch on a purple plastic penis containing beads that began to spin and ripple with bright colors while it vibrated. “Would you look at that?”

  “I can’t stand to,” Debbie Sue said. “It almost looks painful.”

  Edwina continued to play with her toy at varying speeds. “When I was single, you had to go out and strut your stuff for the real thing. Now they package it and bring it right to your door. Amazing.”

  “And in seven sensuous colors and sizes,” Debbie Sue added, testing the remote control of the hot-pink penis. It began to work up and down in a rhythmic motion and she felt her face flame. “Look at this. I’m embarrassed to be holding it.”

  Edwina chuckled.

  “Just stop laughing,” Debbie Sue said. “If I know you, you’ve already got a list of what you’re going to buy.”

  Edwina laughed again. “I see a few things I don’t have. But then I don’t need a lot. I’ve got the real thing at home.”

  Allison walked over, looking quizzically at the huge blue-and-white dildo she held in her hands. “Do you know if this comes with batteries?”

  “Can’t say that I do,” Edwina cracked, “but I’m pretty sure it will if you rub it long enough.”

  The three collapsed in laughter.

  “This is terrible for someone like me,” Allison said through tears of mirth. “I’m more celibate than a nun. I can’t remember the last time I had sex or even with whom.”

  “Then you must be one of their target customers,” Debbie Sue said, and they laughed more.

  “How have these parties been going on and I don’t know about them?” Edwina asked. “I’m supposed to be the Lance Armstrong of gossip in Salt Lick, and this has zipped right past my radar.”

  Jewel pulled even more rarefied “enhancement” accessories from her case and continued her spiel. Although she was by law, she went on, prevented from demonstrating the effectiveness of her stock, she managed to give a compellingly graphic description of each item. Debbie Sue noted that for those who had additional questions, Edwina was happy to join in on Jewel’s pitch.

  “Maudeen,” Debbie Sue said, continuing to watch the guests play with and discuss the array of toys and the intricacies of each, “how did you get involved with this?”

  “Oh, honey, I’m just trying to help Jewel out. Christmas is coming, you know, and she’s got thirty-five grandkids. And land sake, she’s lost track of the great-grandkids.
It used to be she couldn’t buy them all presents. Now she can.”

  “She makes good money at this?”

  “Oh, my Lord, yes. That is, if she doesn’t get arrested and have to pay a big fine. She was barely getting by on her Social Security. Now she’s making about three thousand a month.”

  The word arrested set off an alarm in Debbie Sue’s brain. “Arrested? Why would she get arrested? Is this against the law?”

  Before Maudeen could answer, Allison piped up, “Three—did you say three thousand a month?”

  “She makes more around Valentine’s Day, when all the ladies try to add a little spice in the bedroom.”

  “I can see why you didn’t want to have this at the Peaceful Oasis,” Debbie Sue said, examining a deep purple contraption that resembled a dog’s chew toy.

  “Why, honey, the retirement homes are where the big bucks are. But the Oasis has a bunch of Bible-thumpers that threw a hissy fit when I tried to sign up for the rec room. I’m guessing they never liked sex when they were younger. Or maybe they never had it.”

  Maudeen took the device from Debbie Sue’s hands and showed her the proper way to hold it. “This tickles your G-spot, honey. If your ol’ sweetie can’t find it, I guarantee you this thing can. And it comes in three sizes.”

  “Let me see that,” Edwina said.

  QUINT MATTHEWS’S TRUCK was idling at an intersection’s red light. Aha! The prey was on the move. The driver of a tan KIA sedan peeked over a candy display in a convenience store. The gray pickup of earlier use had gone bye-bye. It had proved to be too much to handle and too expensive to operate. The KIA driver exited the store.

  The whereabouts of the Road Warrior, Mr. Matthews, had been unknown for the past forty-eight hours, but suddenly here he was. Call it karma or plain dumb luck. What ever, the game was back on.

  But something was different. An unmistakable urgency was visible in Quint’s posture. He was hunched forward over the steering wheel, hands gripping the orb at ten and two, an expression of intensity on his face. He looked like an Olympic runner in the starting blocks, waiting for the sound of the pistol.

  The light changed from red to green and Quint turned left, his diesel engine growling through the turn. Something was wrong. He wasn’t heading southwest toward Salt Lick, or southeast toward his ranch in Seguin. No, he was entering the ramp onto I-20, going east.

  The tan KIA’s driver scooted behind the steering wheel, tossing lottery tickets and candy bars onto the passenger seat. The four-cylinder chugged and strained to catch up to Quint’s big diesel.

  TO QUINT’S GREAT happiness, the information operator had been happy to give him not only Monica’s phone number, but her address as well. Ten additional minutes on mapquest.com and he had the directions to Monica, right down to every little yield and stop sign between here and her house.

  She had sounded so calm and collected on the phone when he called and identified himself. No sign of surprise, not even the slightest hint of concern. He heard no sound of regret either.

  In fact, she had been cordial, even playful. That was it: she had been playful. A titter, the likes of which only women were capable, had peppered the conversation too much. He had half expected her to beg for forgiveness. Instead, she flirted.

  Well, putting on a good show with hundreds of miles between her and an old lover was easy. Things would be different when she found him standing in front of her, looking her in the eye.

  Of course she didn’t know he was on his way to visit her. Her last words on the phone had been “Maybe we’ll see each other sometime.”

  Maybe, hell. There was no maybe about it.

  Yep, when he showed up, she would cry. She would cave.

  She had better.

  At 9 P.M., Quint pulled into the hamlet of Haskell, population three thousand. He had driven in two hours and twenty minutes a distance that would have taken more than three hours if he had obeyed the posted speed limit.

  Like most county seats in West Texas small towns, an old baroque-looking court house rose up in the center of town, filled an entire block, and lorded over the community. It had probably been built in the nineteenth century. And like most West Texas small towns, except for a cat crossing from one side of the street to the other, the place was dead—deader even than Salt Lick.

  He didn’t need to reread the MapQuest directions to find where Monica lived. The route was burned like a brand into his memory. Two turns and several blocks later he entered a modest neighborhood. It looked to have been affluent once, but now it was merely two rows of houses with For Sale signs posted in more than half the front yards.

  He parked in front of a modest redbrick home. Still, in Haskell, it must have taken all the salary someone working at the courthouse could earn to pay the rent. “Maybe that’s why she stole from me,” Quint mumbled. She hadn’t done it because she hadn’t fallen for him. Naw, it couldn’t have been that.

  He looked in the mirror, adjusted his hat, and took a deep breath. He was almost happy for the first time in a long time. All questions would be put to rest in short order. This confrontation was what he had come for.

  AS THE TAN KIA passed Tenth Street the driver’s peripheral vision caught a glimpse of Quint’s big dually parked at the curb a few houses up. The sedan stopped and turned around.

  The past two hours had been hell on the nerves. Driving at speeds the economy rental car wasn’t designed to travel was like sliding down a razor blade. Excruciating. The poor little sedan’s chassis shook, shimmied, and whined. During the whole trip, the driver had anticipated an explosion or, at the very least, a complete engine meltdown.

  Now Quint’s truck door opened. The interior light came on. The man himself climbed down from the cab. He checked the tuck of his expensive shirt, dusted off one boot, and reset his Stetson.

  Watching the good-looking devil stride up the sidewalk to the door, the driver sighed, then eased on past the house, turned into the driveway of a darkened house several doors up the street, and waited. The view was perfect. Whoever answered the door could be seen clearly.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the front door opened and the driver got a good look. It was her all right. Monica. The hussy. Quint went inside and the door closed. Following Quint had finally paid off. Waiting was all that was left to do.

  Ten, twenty, thirty minutes…All at once Quint bolted from the house. He didn’t even close the front door. He quickstepped toward his truck, but was stopped for a moment by a man walking his dog. After a brief conversation, the man and dog walked on. Quint stood for a moment under the glow of an antiquated streetlight, yanked off his hat, and shoved his fingers through his hair. He glanced back at the house, then climbed into his truck, cranked the engine, and roared away.

  The open door of the house he had just left loomed like an invitation. The opportunity was too good to pass up.

  The tan KIA pulled to the exact spot just vacated by Quint’s truck. The driver got out, took a quick look around, then walked up the sidewalk and into the house.

  Little Miss Monica was in for another surprise.

  twenty-one

  Allison, unable to stop laughing, came to where Debbie Sue stood. “This is crazy, but I’m having so much fun. Jewel puts on a great party. The light show outside is so cool. I wonder how she does that?” She pointed to a flashing light suddenly brightening the salon in red, white, and blue.

  “Light show?” Maudeen said. “She’s never had a light—”

  “Oh, shit,” Debbie Sue muttered. “That’s red and blues. It’s the cops.” Her thoughts flew to Buddy. She was the one who would soon have some explaining to do.

  Sensing the alert, the reveling women stopped in their tracks. All at once the door flew open and banged the wall with so much force it bounced back and slammed shut again. Outside, two male voices could be heard arguing.

  The door opened again more carefully. Sheriff Billy Don Roberts stood in the doorway, hands on his hips. “Attention! All o’ you,
listen up!”

  Deputy Harry Bridges, Billy Don’s brother-in-law, barely five feet six in cowboy boots, stood just behind him. “This ain’t no joke,” he shouted, his wide-eyed stare swinging from the purple neon-colored dildo in Bethany Nix’s hand to the vibrating pink penis Dorothy Tucker was operating at various speeds. “You’ve all violated the Texas Penis Code 43.21 for Public Indecency.”

  The guests’ eyes darted from one to the other. Edwina was the first to break the silence with a low-key giggle. It soon erupted into a full-blown guffaw. Within moments the whole crowd was engaged in sidesplitting laughter.

  Edwina waltzed over and threw a long skinny arm around the vertically challenged deputy’s neck, her wrist reaching him midchest. Debbie Sue could see that the vodka on top of the several margaritas they had drunk earlier had driven out her partner’s few inhibitions.

  “Don’t you mean the Texas Penal Code, Deputy Harry Britches?” Edwina said.

  The room rocked with laughter again.

  “Let’s see how funny you think this is, smarty-pants.” The deputy yanked handcuffs from his belt and hooked a link around Edwina’s wrist. “Ever’ one o’ y’all’s under arrest.”

  The room fell silent. All Debbie Sue could think was that Buddy Overstreet was not only going to divorce her the second time, he was also going to shoot her.

  The sheriff strutted in front of them, his face grim, his leather service belt and the half-dozen items attached to it causing his pants to sag dangerously low. “Now! Have we got your attention?…I’m gonna ask for your cooperation. We don’t have enough cuffs for everybody, but I guar-an-tee you we’ll use the ones we got if you give us any trouble.”

  Jewel’s voice piped up from the back of the group. “I’ve got plenty of cuffs. You want fur-lined or rhinestone-encrusted?”

  Laughter erupted again.

  The sheriff closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “Dammit all to hell, Harry, you can’t reason with a bunch like this.” He threw a hand in the air. “Just take ’em in.”