Cemetery Silk by E. Joan Sims Page A

see you and tell his wife?”
    â€œHe didn’t care. He told me so. He said I was the only one he cared about, and we could both get divorces and run away together.”
    It was Cassie’s turn, “On the first date he said all this?”
    Deep looked scornfully at her, “Course not! We had lots of dates, a least three or four before he told me how much he hated that string bean he was married to. And Steve was bein’ such a potato head.” She laughed, “Ernest was so funny. He said we both deserved better than bein’ married to vegetables.”
    I was tired of hearing how terrific Dibber was. “Did he ever say how he was going to be able to have the money to take you away?”
    â€œWell, no. I just thought he would have it when the time came. He never talked about money but he gave me real nice presents. He bought me perfume and a real pretty scarf and some of those little panties with lots of lace and no crotch.”
    â€œAnd just how was he in bed?” Mother and I turned to Cassie with open mouths.
    â€œI mean fifty bucks are fifty bucks, do tell us.”
    â€œWell, I never!” The girl looked at Cassie in a wide-eyed attempt at innocent outrage. Cass stared her down.
    â€œWe never ‘done the deed!’ That’s the God’s honest truth,” Deep protested.
    Cassie was not going to let it go at that. “Well, just what did you do? I’m sure you didn’t spend all that time in sleazy motels discussing world affairs.”
    The girl sniffed in an attempt at disdain. “We could’a if we’d wanted. Ernest, he was real smart, and I ain’t no dummy!”
    She unbuckled her coat and slid it off her thin shoulders. She had an impressive chest. It must run in the family.
    â€œI mostly danced for him,” she said in a small voice. She looked at Mother almost shyly.
    â€œI’m a real good dancer. I’d dance for him most every night and he’d stuff dollar bills in my garter belt just like they do in them clubs in the big cities. Now I ain’t saying I’m no virgin, after dancin’ a while I’d get real hot, but Ernest said he wanted to keep our relationship pure and sweet, just like me. So we’d hug and kiss and he’d play with my puppies, but he never let me touch his pecker. After a while I figured it out, that maybe he couldn’t get it up, ya know? Maybe a war wound or somethin’, but that was okay by me. I’ve had too many rough guys stuff me with the old weenie. It was kind’a nice to just be petted by a real gentleman.”
    She took another experimental swig of Perrier. Lying is thirsty work.
    â€œWhat else do you want to know? I gott’a go.”
    â€œWhat happened, dear?” Mother had assumed her gentlest voice. “Why did you and Ernest not run away like you planned?”
    â€œStevie found out what we was doin’. He sobered up one night and followed me to the motel. He waited until I was undressed and doin’ a lap dance for Ernest, and then he busts in and slaps me to the ground and starts swinging. It was awful. He beat Ernest up somethin’ terrible.”
    Her face had taken on a look of fond memory that belied her words. I imagine at the time she was thrilled at the sight of two men fighting over her.
    â€œPoor thing, he didn’t stand a chance against my Stevie.”
    Translation: the better man fought and saved me from a fate worse than death. I was tired of Deep.
    Mother had a good question though.
    â€œDid you ever have anything to do with Mrs. Dibber? Do you know if she was aware of your liaison with her husband?”
    â€œâ€˜Liaison,’ hey, that’s a terrific word. I gott’a remember that. Yeh, she knew. She used to see me places, at the movies or walking down the street, and give me a real ‘drop dead’ look. And she called the coffee shop once, right after Hector took real bad. Molly wasn’t