Read Online The Getaway Man by Andrew Vachss - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andrew Vachss
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I had hopes.
I’d met Bonnie in Wal-Mart. I went
to get a pair of boots, and she worked there. Not over where you get shoes, but
where they had jackets and stuff.
Bonnie had red hair and real white
skin. She had freckles, too, like cinnamon dusted over milk.
“You
could use a new coat to go with those new boots,” she said, as I was
walking by with the box the boots had come in.
She had a beautiful
smile. It was so wide, it made her eyes kind of scrunch up.
“This
one’s still pretty good,” I told her.
“Good for
what?” she said. “It’s kind of tired. I’ll bet your
girlfriend has been after you to get rid of it.”
“No.”
“No, she hasn’t. Or, no, you
don’t.…”
“I don’t have a
girlfriend,” I told her.
“Good!” Bonnie said. She was
kind of bold, but she was so nice about it that you’d never think she was
slutty.
I didn’t really know how to ask a girl for a date. Most
of the girls I ever knew, I just met them in places I was. Like when
they’d come over to Tim and Virgil’s. Or in a bar. But I never
liked to talk to girls in bars—it seemed, half the time, that ends up
with you getting in a fight.
The girls who came over to Tim and
Virgil’s always talked good about men who took them to nice places. I
wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly, but I knew they didn’t mean
the movies. I stood there like a damn stump, trying to remember what it was
they said they liked. And, then, I remembered. So I asked Bonnie if she would
like to have dinner with me.
I could see in her eyes that it was the
right thing to say. She gave me her address, and told me to come around eight.
It was a Friday, but she didn’t have to work late, she said, because she
started at seven in the morning.
Eight o’clock seemed pretty late
to be eating dinner to me, specially if you got started so early in the day,
but I didn’t say anything.
A ll that afternoon, I tried to
puzzle it out. I didn’t know what Bonnie meant by “around
eight,” for starters, but I figured I’d come there at eight
exactly, so I could handle that one. It was the going out to dinner part that
confused me. I had asked her easy enough, but I didn’t have a plan, so I
was a little nervous.
One thing I knew—I couldn’t take
her to Denny’s or McDonald’s or anyplace like that. I looked in the
paper. There were so many places I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t
know how to choose.
So I just started calling them. But when I would
ask how much a meal cost—I figured that was a good way to tell if it was
a classy place—they treated me like I was stupid, and I got all
embarrassed.
Finally, I just went out looking for myself. I drove past
a lot of restaurants until I saw one that looked pretty nice. I parked and
walked up to it. And, sure enough, there was a menu right in the window.
It was
real
expensive, that place, so I knew it had to be a good
one. Enrico’s, the name was.
I got back to where I was staying,
and I took a shower and shaved extra careful. When I went to get dressed, I was
all embarrassed again—I could see what Bonnie meant by me needing to get
a new coat.
I had money. Ever since I got out of prison and started
working, I always had money. J.C. and the others spent their money on all kinds
of things, but I never spent most of mine. When they would ask me if I wanted
to go to one of the gambling clubs, I never much did.
J.C. knew how to
dress. His clothes didn’t look real fancy, but, somehow, you knew they
cost a lot of money.
Tim and Virgil spent money on clothes, too, but
you never had to look close to see that. One time, we were all supposed to go
over to this roadhouse where a band Tim liked was playing. Virgil said there
would be a lot of girls there, and I couldn’t go looking like I was. He
went and got one of his shirts—a beautiful red silky one, with gold
stitching and pearl buttons—and he told me I had to wear it. I
I’d met Bonnie in Wal-Mart. I went
to get a pair of boots, and she worked there. Not over where you get shoes, but
where they had jackets and stuff.
Bonnie had red hair and real white
skin. She had freckles, too, like cinnamon dusted over milk.
“You
could use a new coat to go with those new boots,” she said, as I was
walking by with the box the boots had come in.
She had a beautiful
smile. It was so wide, it made her eyes kind of scrunch up.
“This
one’s still pretty good,” I told her.
“Good for
what?” she said. “It’s kind of tired. I’ll bet your
girlfriend has been after you to get rid of it.”
“No.”
“No, she hasn’t. Or, no, you
don’t.…”
“I don’t have a
girlfriend,” I told her.
“Good!” Bonnie said. She was
kind of bold, but she was so nice about it that you’d never think she was
slutty.
I didn’t really know how to ask a girl for a date. Most
of the girls I ever knew, I just met them in places I was. Like when
they’d come over to Tim and Virgil’s. Or in a bar. But I never
liked to talk to girls in bars—it seemed, half the time, that ends up
with you getting in a fight.
The girls who came over to Tim and
Virgil’s always talked good about men who took them to nice places. I
wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly, but I knew they didn’t mean
the movies. I stood there like a damn stump, trying to remember what it was
they said they liked. And, then, I remembered. So I asked Bonnie if she would
like to have dinner with me.
I could see in her eyes that it was the
right thing to say. She gave me her address, and told me to come around eight.
It was a Friday, but she didn’t have to work late, she said, because she
started at seven in the morning.
Eight o’clock seemed pretty late
to be eating dinner to me, specially if you got started so early in the day,
but I didn’t say anything.
A ll that afternoon, I tried to
puzzle it out. I didn’t know what Bonnie meant by “around
eight,” for starters, but I figured I’d come there at eight
exactly, so I could handle that one. It was the going out to dinner part that
confused me. I had asked her easy enough, but I didn’t have a plan, so I
was a little nervous.
One thing I knew—I couldn’t take
her to Denny’s or McDonald’s or anyplace like that. I looked in the
paper. There were so many places I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t
know how to choose.
So I just started calling them. But when I would
ask how much a meal cost—I figured that was a good way to tell if it was
a classy place—they treated me like I was stupid, and I got all
embarrassed.
Finally, I just went out looking for myself. I drove past
a lot of restaurants until I saw one that looked pretty nice. I parked and
walked up to it. And, sure enough, there was a menu right in the window.
It was
real
expensive, that place, so I knew it had to be a good
one. Enrico’s, the name was.
I got back to where I was staying,
and I took a shower and shaved extra careful. When I went to get dressed, I was
all embarrassed again—I could see what Bonnie meant by me needing to get
a new coat.
I had money. Ever since I got out of prison and started
working, I always had money. J.C. and the others spent their money on all kinds
of things, but I never spent most of mine. When they would ask me if I wanted
to go to one of the gambling clubs, I never much did.
J.C. knew how to
dress. His clothes didn’t look real fancy, but, somehow, you knew they
cost a lot of money.
Tim and Virgil spent money on clothes, too, but
you never had to look close to see that. One time, we were all supposed to go
over to this roadhouse where a band Tim liked was playing. Virgil said there
would be a lot of girls there, and I couldn’t go looking like I was. He
went and got one of his shirts—a beautiful red silky one, with gold
stitching and pearl buttons—and he told me I had to wear it. I
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