It started with a roll of the dice. Jaye and I had been driving for days and she smelled bad. So did I, but you're stuck with your own company. We were both getting on each other's nerves. What had seemed like a good idea at the time was now a living hell and Jaye never failed to remind me that I had dreamed the whole thing up. The way I told it we were going on the adventure of a lifetime; driving through the heart and soul of America, coast to coast - a king and queen of the road, our dreams fuelled by the ghost of Kerouac and the imagery of Hollywood.
Some ideas are best left in your head. The scenery, enjoyable at first, now seared our eyes. The food was bad and the heat was worse. We scarcely spoke.
"I suppose sex is out of the question" I joked. Neither of us thought it was funny. All we wanted was a hot bath and clean sheets. A state of undeclared war existed between us. We needed to stop - but where? Jaye wanted to go back home, but I decided on a policy of no surrender. That's when I suggested we roll the dice.
"Highest decides," she said, but I wasn't so easily caught.
"No," I said, "the first one to get a double six."
She nodded and I let her roll first, digging my nails into the palms of my hands as she did so. It was a double three.
"Halfway there," I joked feebly. She said nothing.
It took five rolls before I won. Jaye got out of the car and lit a cigarette. I looked at her angry hunched form and just for a second - a second mind you - I felt ashamed. I wondered how I could ever hate such an attractive woman.
We stopped in a little town to get something to eat, intending to ask the whereabouts of the nearest motel. There was a sort of crafts market across the street and Jaye drifted towards it. I bought the food and followed her. The market was the kind of place where you could buy sentimental pictures of the desert mesas with a barefoot Indian, arms aloft, representing the spirit of the red man departed. All rendered in a hideous blue. Temporarily I had lost Jaye. Good, I thought. Then I saw her again laughing and joking with one of the stall holders. He was in his fifties, tall and bald on top. In one hand he held a
lighted cigar whilst a genuine New York Navaho rug was draped across his other arm. His mouth had a moist redness as he periodically dragged on the cigar and bent down to murmur something in Jaye's ear. Each time she laughed. I took an instant dislike to the guy.
I moved over to break up the conversation and instead found myself sucked into it. In no time Jaye had introduced me to Ben - that was his name and I was forced to hold a conversation as if we were old friends. The questions were friendly but probing and like a big dummy I answered them all, thinking I could get away from him sooner if I did. Yes this was my girl - just about. Yes we were from England. Yes it was a lovely country. Yes we were enjoying ourselves - what a laugh. Yes we were looking for a place to stay.
Then he reeled us in. He started to give us directions to the nearest motel but about half way through an idea seemed to occur to him.
"Say what am I talking about? You kids can come and stay with us."
"We couldn't possibly," I began.
"Nonsense, the wife and I have plenty of room. Just the two of us in a big old house. Be nice to have some company. Anyway think of this poor lady." he said, smiling slyly at Jaye, "she looks like she could do with a good night's sleep in a real bed instead of a motel. You can follow me as soon as I've closed up. I've just about given up the idea of selling much today."
The look on Jaye's face told me that I had lost the argument. Some days you get the bear and some days the bear gets you. As we drove behind his station wagon out of the town and down the road for about ten miles I reflected how a winning roll of the dice had led me to this. A couple of miles further on we turned left up a dirt track. A half a mile along the track we parked outside a "big old house", just as he described it.
"Sorry about the bumpy ride. It's murder on the suspension." he said, patting Jaye's rear.
Jaye giggled. I couldn't believe it was the same woman I had wanted to murder over the last few days. Now I wanted to murder her even more. Him too. Ben began to call his wife.
"Honey, we got company."
The door opened. A pale middle aged woman entered, nodded a greeting at us and smiled. I was shocked. Something told me that this woman was very ill and did not have long to live.
"Honey these kids are going to stay with us for a few days so we've got to show them some real American hospitality."
The woman continued to smile, but said nothing, as if this was an everyday occurrence. She turned her back, picked up a pile of bedding and proceeded to carry it through a door which seemed to lead into a cellar.
"I'll show you to your room," said Ben. I made to follow the woman but was surprised to find that Ben went in the opposite direction towards some stairs. He led us to our room.
"I'll leave you to unpack and freshen up. You both look like you could do with a week's sleep." he said.
We dumped our belongings and both lay on the bed. In no time we were asleep. It's strange how your perspective can change after a good rest. When we woke up we made love for the first time in weeks - at it like rabbits we were.
Afterwards we showered and lay on the bed again.
"That guy Ben - he's creepy," I said.
Jaye yawned.
"He's funny."
"He's old."
"I don't believe it. You're jealous of an old man."
"No I'm not," I said. But it was true, I was jealous. I hadn't got so much as a grimace out of Jaye recently, let alone a smile. It seemed to me that I had received our lovemaking courtesy of dear old Ben.
Later we went downstairs to dinner. Three places were laid at the table. We sat down.
"Isn't your wife eating with us Ben?" I asked.
"Naw, she can't seem to keep anything down nowadays," he laughed.
If his wife was upset by what he said she did not show it. Silently she began to serve us creamed chicken and corn with mashed potatoes. I made a promise to myself that we would leave in the morning. This set up was too weird. Time to go home.
The meal progressed, if you could call it progression. Ben told bad jokes and held forth on every subject - his lovely wife, the meal, my own luck in being with Jaye, Jaye's luck in finding me. Jaye looked at me as if I had just crawled from under a rock. There was beer and wine available and I made good use of both. Ben's words and Jaye's laughter became a blur. Dessert was pancakes swimming in maple syrup and cream. My brain felt like a pancake.
After dinner, Ben asked me to come into his study for a cigar. I motioned to Jaye but he insisted.
"Let the little lady get used to feel the of the kitchen," he said dismissively. To my surprise Jaye did not protest.
The study was as bad as I imagined, all wood panelling and hunting trophies. He also had a small collection of guns. I accepted a cigar and regretted it as soon as it was lit. I coughed. Ben laughed.
"What's the matter? Don't you like my specials?"
I fought back the bile, determined to show him that if he could smoke a bad cigar then so could I. He turned towards the wall.
"You like my collection of guns?" he asked proudly. "They all work too." He rummaged in a drawer. "See! Shells for every occasion." The drawer was crammed with bullets of every shape, size and form.
"Here, look at this," he continued. "This is my prize baby." Through my increasing delirium I could see him holding a long barrelled revolver."
"This here is a Buntline Special. The man who sold it to me said it belonged to Wyatt Earp but that's all hogwash - I know that. Still not many of these beauties were ever made so there might be something in what he says. You want to hold it? Go on, take it. A good gun is like a good woman. Almost, anyway."
He laughed as I took the gun. It did not feel like a woman, good or otherwise. I felt sick. In an effort to kill or cure Ben continued to pour conversation, whisky and cigars down me for the next hour or so. Somewhere in the middle of his hunting tales I blacked out.
When I woke up the study was in darkness. My brain and my throat burned in concert. I was about to get up when I realised I was not alone. I began to hear grunts and moans, which got louder. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark I saw the naked outline of Jaye rising and falling. Rising and falling on randy old Ben. I tried to get up but fell back. Jaye smiled. I blacked out again.
Later, the cold air woke me up. I was alone in the study. I staggered out of the room and was promptly sick. I felt no better. I sensed that someone had left the outside door open and headed towards it to get some fresh air. I felt worse. Then I noticed that Jaye and Ben were outside. I laughed. Jaye was in her night clothes and she was digging. Ben stood there watching like an overseer. It was crazy. I was crazy, or drunk, or both. Then I noticed the small shrivelled bundle by the hole she was digging. A bundle with hair and arms and feet. A bundle that had served dinner earlier. I stumbled and giggled.
"The wife's gone then."
Ben looked in my direction. The tip of his cigar glowed. Although it was dark, I sensed his wet-lipped smile. I ran inside to the study and grabbed the Buntline Special and some shells. I ran back. They were already coming through the doorway so I turned and ran towards the cellar. Big drunken mistake. Down the stairs I fell, right to the bottom. The cellar light went on. Jaye and Ben were at the top of the stairs. I fumbled with the Buntline but none of the damned bullets would fit in the chamber. Jaye came down the stairs towards me. She touched my leg. That's when I realised it was broken. She tried to quiet my screams.
"He's not going to hurt you. I could never allow that." she said - and out I went again.
The cellar's alright as cellars go. My leg's healing nicely. Of course sometimes I get mad when I hear them screwing upstairs, but they feed me regularly so I suppose I'm lucky. I'm not worried. They've won for now, but I'll get my chance - another roll of the dice. I've got them in my pocket right now. My luck will change. Some days you get the bear....