Part 14 (1/2)

Can we afford a motorcar? Bess asks.

Willie and Happy laugh. We can afford eight, Happy says.

They find a dealers.h.i.+p at the edge of town. Francis Motors. They pick out a brand-new Nash, open-topped, pine green, with s.h.i.+ning nickel headlamps and a spare tire covered in white leather. The salesman chortles when Willie says he'll take it. The salesman stops chortling when Willie counts out two thousand on the hood.

Son, I don't know-and I don't want to know.

They drive to the next town, shop for clothes. Four new suits for Willie and Happy, eight new dresses for Bess. They pa.s.s a store with a three-quarter-length squirrel coat in the window. Bess presses her face to the gla.s.s. Nine hundred, she says, marked down from fifteen hundred-that's a steal.

It's a steal all right, Willie says.

The coat is a drab gray, the color of rain clouds, of dishwater-of Mr. Endner's mustaches. But Bess is already inside the store, burying her face in the fluffy collar.

Standing before the astonished salesman Willie counts nine hundred on the counter. Don't bother wrapping it, Willie says, taking the receipt, which the prosecution will call Exhibit B, she'll wear it out.

They head northeast, to Ma.s.sachusetts, where the age of consent is younger. So they've heard. The motor-roads are bad. They're not motor-roads, but Indian trails. The Nash gets a flat. Happy wrestles with the jack and the spare. Bess wrestles with Willie. He catches her hands, tells her to be good. My being-good days are over, she says.

At dusk they stop at a four-room inn. There's still an hour of daylight. Bess wants to go right away to the nearest justice. Happy says he's worn out from changing the flat.

We'll go without you, Bess says.

Happy's offended. How you going to get married without the best man?

Willie hugs her. First thing in the morning, Bess. That way we'll be able to buy you a proper wedding dress.

Oh Willie. Yes.

Then, he thinks, Niagara Falls, and on to Canada, far beyond her father's reach. Willie's not sure what they'll do with Happy at that point.

They all turn in early. Big day tomorrow, they say at the top of the stairs. Willie falls asleep instantly. Hours later he wakes, Bess nudging him. Willie Boy, I can't sleep.

Yeah. Me either.

She laughs. He gropes for his suit on the floor, finds his cigarettes. Lights one, lies on his back, takes a long drag. Bess confiscates the cigarette, puffs it, hands it back. The room is ice cold. She spreads the squirrel coat across them as an extra blanket, lies on her side facing him. We're outlaws, she says.

I guess so.

Never thought I'd be an outlaw.

It wasn't in my plans either.

She jabs a finger into Willie's ribs. Stick em up.

Bess.

You heard me.

He puts the cigarette in his mouth, raises his hands.

Put the money in the bag, she says.

Say, you've got the act down pretty good.

Your money or your life?

Those are my options?

Yup.

My life.

She props herself on one elbow. Have you ever committed a crime, Willie?

He sighs. Not for a while.

What'd you do?

Eddie used to shoplift, break into stores. Happy and I would stand lookout sometimes.

She twirls his chest hair. Have you ever been with anyone else, Willie Boy?

He blows a smoke ring. It encircles her face like a cameo. I don't know.

Who? Who was she, Willie?

Ah, no one, Bess. She was just-no one.

Who, Willie?

If you must know. A wh.o.r.e lady. On Sands Street.

Sands Street?

Happy. He took me and Eddie.

Figures.

It wasn't anything.

What was she like?

Skip it.

Tell me.

She was nothing like you.

How did she do it?

Ah come on.