Chapter 32 [M]

In order to get to town Billie took a bus. Otherwise, she would have been walking the whole way instead of only half the way, and that could have taken hours. The ticket was a dollar and change, cleaning Billie out of most of her money. She didn't have enough to get home and imagined the long walk she would have to face later. During the trip by foot and by wheel she had a long time to continue dwelling on everything. It was hard to distinguish her tears from the rain falling down her face, but onlookers also seated on the bus noticed the red and puffy patches on her face.

She was torn, every moment, between feeling sorry for herself and merely being sad to filling with rage and anger and ideas of revenge. How could that man have taken advantage of her? He knew how she felt. She, who was so often practical and calm had been dramatically changed by him. She went crazy and delusional with love. Now, she was frantic and possessed with rage. A time ago she would never had disappeared with a man twice her age, engaged in intimacy and lived out a lie, she now finding herself alone, cold and wet in a strange public bus. All for him. She had betrayed and hurt her best friend. Her mother hadn't seen her in days.

When the bus halted at her stop Billie shuffled back out into the rain. There were several more blocks she needed to walk. Her coat did little to cover the rain; she was fully drenched. As she neared the building, even just seeing it in the distance, her stomach began to swirl again. There was tormenting feelings as she anticipated the confrontation. There was such energy in the air, a bad kind it may have been, but she couldn't imagine the man not knowing her presence there. She was in such turmoil it was hard to believe that anyone else, the passengers on the bus or the people on the streets, were leading a normal, non-oppressive day. How was she the only one suffering so?

Standing near the stoop of the building she took a deep breath before entering. This was a criminals lair. One of the most wanted men in the country was right there. She was the one holding thousands of dollars of knowledge. Shakily, she entered the building. She knew which floor he was on and what room he was in. 307. The trip to his apartment was nothing compared to how long she felt it took to reach the room. The entire time she imagined seeing him around every corner. By the time she stepped into the hallway her heat was pounding. The hall extended long before her. Approaching the door she was breathing hard, tears pushing out her eyes. This was it. She had to knock. With a little pep-talk she managed to plunge in- knocking with her fist against the door.

There was silence. She waited.

Still nothing. Was he not there? Her head fell with sick feelings swimming inside her. Her breathing became more harsh, then, there came a sound. There was laughter. Voices. Snapping to attention Billie tried to discern where this came from. It was not the room in front of her but rather the one right next door, down a few feet. She thought she heard his voice, his laugh. It was hard to tell, she being so unstable she considered it likely she could have imagined it. A beat passed and it happened again. It was him. He was in that room. Again, she knocked hard.

- - -

"Deal again."

"Come on, let's finish!"

"I hate playing with you guys."

"Well no one likes playin' with you..."

It was the usual banter at the men's usual poker game. Smoke drifted through the room in clouds along with the sounds of tinkling glasses. They talked and laughed but mostly they fought, like always. John was at his usual seat toward the end of the table. While dealing one round of cards Red had accidentally flipped one face up, some of the guys then demanding a re-deal. Through the back and fourth came a sound, one that put everyone on the edge of their seat- a knock at the door.

Immediately they all exchanged glances. The room that had once been filled with sounds became silent. Few people knew where the gang was staying there in town and no one was to be expected; this person was coming unannounced. Through the prolonging quiet the knock sounded again. The men shared more looks.

"Homer," Pete whispered harshly. "Go see who it is!"

"No!" he yelped. After being starred down by men he knew would put a fist through his gut if he didn't obey, he rose awkwardly.

"Look through the door first," Pete reminded.

"You think I'm fuckin' stupid?" Homer leaned into the door, squinting his eye through the small peephole. It seemed as though he glanced twice, confused. "It's a girl," he told the men with a weary smile. "A little girl..."

"See what she wants."

Slowly he reached for the handle. He opened the door only so much, it still connected by the chain. Billie seemed slightly scared by the sight of a rough, sketchy man. He looked to have light hair though it was dirty, so dirty it appeared to be many different shades. His expression was irritated and had she not been so fired up herself, she would have shrunk away scared. She mumbled a few words about who she came to see, asking for Jimmy, wondering what would happen to her if she asked for a John. Homer wasn't letting the girl get any closer to the apartment until John overheard.

He didn't hear the words exactly, but he heard a tone. A melodic, exotic breath. He shot to his feet, almost knocking his chair over. The gang watched the scene play out. Homer stepped away from the door enough for John to see it was indeed Billie, but she looked nothing like he'd ever seen her before.

"Billie!" He lunged to the door, Homer getting out of the way while he unleashed the lock and whipped the door open. She stood soaking wet and face burning. He grabbed her and pulled her into the room. At the sight of him Billie had the urge to cry again and physically battled the sensation while she was dragged into the place. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, noticing the group of men eying her heatedly. Was that, dare she think it, his...gang? He didn't allow her time to observe for he pulled her further inside, even beyond the sight of the men. Her attention was forced back to him.

"Billie, what's happening? Are you alright? How'd you get here?" He was speaking fast. She had a short look into his eyes, his face creased with worry, and then she dug her hand into her coat.

"I-I know," she panted. She pulled out a damp, folded newspaper and thew it up toward his face. "I know who you are."