Chapter Twenty-Five
     The next morning Earl had to go to work, and his alarm woke them both up. Vicky could sleep in that morning, not having to go to her temp job until the next day, so Earl kissed her on the cheek, then on her lips, before he got out of bed.
     He went to the bathroom and splashed some water on his face before heading to the kitchen area and starting a small pot of coffee. While it was brewing, he carried his cigar box into the bathroom and by the time the coffee was ready to drink, Earl was wired and full of energy.
     He quickly showered and found some clothes, and sat down on the couch and sipped his coffee while smoking a cigarette and watching Vicky sleep. Her face was turned toward him, and Earl had never seen a more angelic one in his life. There was a shock of hair that had fallen across one of her eyes, and when Earl got up to leave, he slipped back into place. He kissed the exposed cheek, and Vicky stirred, but didn't wake.
     Earl carried that vision with him throughout his day. He went about his work methodically and with care, and spoke much less to Mark and Ed than normal. He was still troubled by Vicky's insistence and obsession with this dancing business. He'd occasionally wondered about the boyfriends and husbands of the girls he'd seen at those places, and Earl was learning that he was far too jealous of Vicky to let her do it.
     At lunch, instead of joining Mark for a burrito or two from the roach coach that parked across the street, Earl got in his car and drove home. He was hoping to catch Vicky, maybe talk to her a bit about how happy he was with her, but she was gone and the room was empty. He grabbed a beer and nursed it while looking out the front window and watching the cars on the street below.
     He wandered over to the back window and looked out over the parking lot of the Single Spire Motel and the flat top of the portion of the U-shaped building that he could see. The roof was littered with debris, more of it collecting in some of the corners and around the vents that rose from the bathrooms. The roof looked sad and neglected, and the lot dusty and forlorn. It was not a sight that filled Earl with joy, not like he'd expected before he moved here. He still felt good about living here, but wondered if the view of the parking lot didn't bother him because it reminded him of Simone.
     He looked at the room where Vicky and Perris had lived and then at his. He remembered yesterday, seeing Simone walk down that sidewalk before he caught her, and then remembered the other day, when they'd raged inside his room. Until yesterday, when she'd slapped him and told him off, Earl had enjoyed remembering Simone and that day. Now, he found the memories disturbing, cheap and sophomoric, and a slight shudder ran down Earl's back as he pictured her nipples and the small mole on the inside of her right thigh.
     Earl glanced at the clock and saw he had to return to work. He went to the bathroom and threw his beer in the trash, and deicded to grab his jacket before heading back to work. He pulled it from the hook in the closet, but noticed that Vicky's bag, the one that had held her dancing costume, was missing. He looked quickly around the room, but couldn't find it anywhere.
     All afternoon long, while Earl welded, ground metal, and shaped iron and steel, he wondered about Vicky and the bag. He couldn't imagine any reason that Vicky would take it unless she intended to wear it, and he couldn't imagine any good reason why she would wear it.
     When he got off work, instead of heading straight home and discover that Vicky was still out--and Earl was convinced that she wouldn't be there--he drove to the drug store where he'd earlier purchased her candle holder. In addition to the usual remedies and things like that, the store was full of cheap gifts and clothing. Earl found a pair of sweat pants that he guessed would fit Vicky, and also a new pink bathrobe with a flowers embroidered along the hem.
     When he got home, as he'd figured, she was still gone. Earl realized that he wanted her to be there, waiting for him with her wonderful smile and an evening full of happy conversation. The Vicky he wanted wasn't there, and Earl wondered if she ever would be. He wasn't upset that she was out, he knew that she was busy at the org in the evenings until late, but there was a nagging fear that she wasn't at the org and a greater sadness that she wasn't home at all.
     Earl entertained the idea of going to the Celebrity Center to see if he could find her, but he didn't know exactly where it was. He knew that it was in Hollywood somewhere and he knew he could look the address up somewhere, but he knew so little about her work and position there, he had no idea if he could find her.
     He put her new pants in one of the drawers they shared and hung her new bathrobe up in the closet in place of the old one. He considered giving himself another shot and decided against it. He was trying to cut down, mostly for Vicky's sake, and thought that another three day run might upset her. He knew it was hard on his body, too, and now that Earl had something to do with it he wanted to treat it a little better. He could stay wired all weekend, but he didn't want any more emergencies causing him to have to miss any more work.
     He settle down with his pipe and a beer, and wondered about Vicky and Simone, and where they both were. Simone, he guessed, would be somewhere with Perris, but Earl had no idea where that might be. He thought of calling her pager, but knew that she would never respond to a page from his phone number. Maybe later, he thought, after some time has passed, she'd be willing to talk again and they might even be able to pick up where they left off. Earl fantasized about them getting back together, laughing about the misunderstanding, and maybe spending some evenings together.
     He winced when he realized that being with Simone again would now mean cheating on Vicky. Earl shook his head to clear his thoughts as he saw that the he was considering screwing Simone while being upset about Vicky flirting and dancing. While he finished his pipe, Earl decided that he would like to call Simone someday to straighten things out, but that he would have to be careful. Even thought Simone was willing to cheat on Perris, Earl hadn't yet had to face that conflict and wasn't looking forward to it. It would be nearly impossible for him to reject her and the promise of her body.
     Around eleven, Earl took a shower and even went so far as to shave. He expected Vicky back any time now, and he wanted her to be as glad to see him as he would be to see her. He could already picture the quirky grin she would have when she walked in, and the brighter, more enjoyable smile, she would give him when she discovered what he'd bought for her. He could see her modelling her new bathrobe, which he knew she would discover as soon as she changed and that would be right after she came home. He thought about how happy she would look, and how much more he'd enjoy seeing her prance around in it than in her slutty red dancing outfit.
     Midnight came and went without Vicky showing up, and so did one o'clock and even two. Earl had spent the time going back and forth between the loveseat and the bed, and divided his attention between the traffic and lights out the front window and the overlording view out the back. He'd drunk several cans of beer and had filled his pipe twice before he heard the footsteps coming up the stairs.
     Earl positioned himself near the front door, and swept his hair back and fluffed his beard. He'd put on some after shave about half an hour ago, and felt that he was presentable and hoped that Vicky would think so, too.
     "Oh, good! You're home!" she called as she opened the door and was immediately confronted with Earl's unavoidable bulk. He wasn't sure where she thought he would be at this hour, and her remark surprised him.
     "Hey!" he answered, hoping to keep any hesitation from his voice. "Yep, right here, waiting for you."
     "You'll never guess what happened today," she said, ignoring his attempts at a welcoming embrace. Earl noticed that she didn't have the paper bag with her but that it had been replaced with a duffel bag. She dropped that on the floor by the door and her other small bag on top of it and then agreed to the hug.
     As Earl held her he could smell stale cigar smoke in her hair along with the mixed sweet scents of a dozen or so foreign and cloying perfumes.
     "I've got the greatest news!" she said.
     "Earl tried to ignore the unfamiliar and unwelcome scents and to concentrate on the warmth of her embrace and the scent he knew to be hers. She was too excited to be captive in the hug for long, and stepped free after a quick kiss.
     "What happened?" he asked. "Someting good about that danger thing?"
     Vicky looked perplexed a moment, then laughed. "No. I didn't go to the org today. This is something better, something big!"
     "Okay," Earl said. "I'll bite. What is it?"
     "I got a call this morning around eleven, right after I woke up. It was from a man who owns a club out near Pasadena," she said, referring to a town close to an hour away from the Single Spire. "He was at the Screeching Eagle the other night and saw me dance and he offered me a job working at his place full time!"
     Earl's dreams and hopes both sank, each kicking his heart as they raced each other past his stomach and settling somewhere lower in his stomach. Of all the news that Vicky could have, this was the worst, he thought.
     "Today, I only worked a few hours, but I made four hundred dollars!" she exclaimed, and Earl was afraid to ask how. Tips were great for the girls in those places, he knew, but there were things involved with the tips that Earl didn't want to face, didn't want to think about. "Tomorrow, when I do a full shift, I should make more than that."
     Earl sighed and collapsed on the bed, hanging his feet over the footboard. Vicky was standing in front of him, looking radiant and buoyed by her future. "Just dancing, right?" he asked.
     "Pretty much," Vicky said. She walked over to the closet and began peeling off her clothes. "I have some drinks with some of the customers, but no funny business."
     Earl noticed that she was wearing new underwear, or at least some he hadn't seen on her or in her drawer. It wasn't like what she'd always worn before, but was frilly and lacy. She opened the door to grab her bathrobe and gave an excited yelp of delight.
     "What's this?" she asked, holding out the bathrobe that Earl had bought. "Is it for me?"
     "Yeah, I got that for you," Earl said, but the joy he expected to share with her had fled with her announcement. "Some other stuff, too."
     "Like what?"
     "Oh, just some sweat pants." He looked again at her standing there in her underwear, a different Vicky than the one he'd bought the things for. That Vicky had worn simple cotton things, items that made sense with sweat pants.
     "How sweet," she said, slipping into her robe and checking the fit. She walked over to Earl and kissed him again, this time on his shoulder. "I really like it."
     "I'm glad."
     "I think I'd like a drink," she said. "How about you?"
     Earl debated for a moment, and told her to pour him a couple fingers of whiskey. She scurried over to the kitchen area, and continued to talk to him from there. "But the job isn't the best news," she said.
     "There's more?"
     "You know that money you gave me for the course?"
     Earl nodded and then realized that her back was still to him. "Yeah. What about it?"
     Vicky returned with the drinks. "You'll never guess."
     Earl didn't feel like guessing and wasn't sure that he wanted to know. "I give up."
     "I put a down payment down on a new apartment for us, closer to my work."
     Earl held his glass rigid, halfway to his mouth. A million thoughts hammered against his skull, rebounding and richocheting off each other. "You got a new place?" he said at last, quietly. He was trembling, and moved the glass to another hand.
     "I did!" she shouted. She bounded onto the bed to sit next to Earl. "A real place, an apartment with rooms and everything!"
     Earl took a slow drink of the burning amber liquor, holding it in his mouth before swallowing. He suddenly wanted to be as numb as possible, all over, and could scarecly believe what Vicky was telling him.
     "It's a furnished place, and we can move in tomorrow."
     "What's the matter with this place?" Earl asked. He got off the bed and went to the kitchenette, the place where he now stored his cigar box. He kept his back to Vicky while he filled the pipe, and wished that he had something stronger than pot to dull his senses. "I like it here, I'm not ready to move."
     "This place? It's a dump," Vicky said. "We only stayed here because we couldn't afford a real place, but now we can."
     Earl inhaled as much of the pipe as he could in one breath and held it in, willing the smoke to saturate his lungs and bloodstream. He finished his whiskey before exhaling, which he did slowly through his nose, and chased the hit with a big slug straight from the bottle.
     He took another hit before turning around to see Vicky busy on the floor with her new duffel bag. "What's that?" he asked.
     "I used some of the money to buy some more outfits," she said. "Look at this one." She held up a slim patch of gold lame, and it took Earl a moment to recognize that it was a g-string. If it covered anything at all, Earl would have been surprised.
     "But this is my favorite," she said, not even looking at Earl to see his reaction to the first piece. She held out a black nylon teddy, covered with ruffles and as transparent as a thin fog. "And all the customers liked it, too."
     Earl could only imagine why, and there was no imagination when it came to any of her dancing outfits. She pulled a series of garments from the duffel, and between the seven or eight outfits she still wouldn't be covered, even if she wore them all at the same time.
     "So you're going on with this dancing thing?" Earl asked, settling onto the couch. He glanced over at her to see her answer, and she stood up holding another slip of a g-string.
     "Yeah," she answered, looking puzzled. "Why not?"
     "Didn't you hear us last night when we were talking to you about this?"
     "That's different," she said. "This is a good place, too. The other girls are all really friendly and talk to me and give me some pointers, and the owner's always there."
     Earl wondered how she would know that after only half a day at work, but didn't press her for details.
     "The customers are all real nice, too." She walked over to where Earl was sitting, but kept on her feet. "It's easy work, and fun," she said and Earl watched as she reached inside her robe and slipped her panties off. She carefully stepped into the tiny g-string she was holding and showed Earl how it looked on her.
     "Do you like it?" she asked, and Earl looked at Vicky in the watchband sized garment that separated her from complete nudity. He noticed that her pubic hair was gone, and wondered when that happened and even if it had been part of a show she'd put on.
     "There's not much to like," he said, and Vicky frowned. She'd been staring at him, studying him, and looked to be unhappy with his answer.
     "The customers all liked it," she said. "They liked me," and that seemed to be all that mattered to her, all that she needed.
     Earl got up and took hold of her gently, cradling her head against his chest and shoulder. "Vicky, *I* like you, doesn't that matter for anything?" He could feel her slipping away from him. Her mind, her feelings, maybe, had already deserted him and now her body was fallowing.
     "Of course it does."
     "Then forget all this nonsense and just stay here, with me, with the jobs and life you always had."
     Vicky pulled back and looked up at Earl, her eyes still bright and wide and open and there was noting hidden in there, nothing Earl couldn't read. The trouble was, there was nothing in what she said or did that led him to think that he didn't want to be a lie.
     "I can make huge money," she said. "Can you imagine what it would be like?"
     "It's not about the money," he said. "What about the men, What about all the guys who grab you or that you have to rub yourself all over? What about all of them staring between your legs, seeing everything you've got?"
     "They like me," she answered. "They tell me that I'm pretty."
     Earl took hold of her again, and tried to comfort her. She wiggled out of the embrace and told him she needed to go to the bathroom. He watched her walk away and stared down at the floor between his feet.
     She was gone a few minutes, and there was no sound coming from the tiny bathroom a few feet away. Earl stripped off his clothes and into bed, and Vicky was gone for a few minutes more before she emerged and turned off the room's single light.
     Perhaps she'd been crying, Earl couldn't tell in the dim light that came up from the street and danced across the yellowed ceiling. She crawled into bed, but not near Earl, and when he reached over to hold her, she took his hands gently in hers and held them.
     "We can't," she said, and it was the first time she'd ever refused Earl. "You're such a big guy that you might bruise me."
     Earl pulled his hands free and flipped over, presenting her with his back.
     "Maybe later," she said softly, "after we get settled and I have a day off we can find a safe way."
     Earl made no response, couldn't think of anything to say, and stared at the reflected lights on the window for over an hour, hearing the rush of cars below and the simple light snores of Vicky next to him.
     She stirred when his alarm went off, but went back to sleep as soon as he left the bed. She was snoring by the time he finished his shower and shot, and he noticed that her hair was carefully held in place by an assortment of pins under a net. He kissed her as he left for work, and she smiled back without awakening.
     When Earl came back at lunch, she was gone, and so were all her things. There were tags from new clothes, or new outfits, littered around the floor and half a cup of coffee on the counter. The shared drawers held only his things, and the closet no longer held any bathrobes or her thin cotton dress. Earl yanked open the drawer in the kitchen, and drained the bottle of whiskey in three gulps and prepared a shot, a heavy, strong one.
     He cast about in his pockets for a lighter and found instead Simone's panties, which he laid on the window sill. As he moved the curtain aside, he noticed that the candle holder with the fairy, that silly thing he'd bought for Vicky, was hidden behind its folds and had been forgotten by her.
     He cooked his fix while staring at them, and strained the dose when the mixture was prepared. He rolled up his sleeve and injected the drug, laying the syringe down on the panties while he began dancing around the room in response to the explosion in his chest.
     He stopped himself at once, remembering someone else who'd danced and twirled just the way he was doing, and he never wanted to do that again or to tarnish that memory with his own clumsy steps. He looked at the syringe, and at athe panties, and lifted his head to look out on the uncaring and involved traffic below. As he watched, a train appeared carrying sugar beets, and Earl left the window to look out the back one, over the Single Spire Motel and its collection of shabby rooms and hidden tenants.
     He was in the tower, and could see it all, just as he'd imagined and he'd dreamt for so long. He stared out the window for a long time over the ruins of his domain, and every bit of it was empty of everything, including hope.