Prying Eyes

1

A ngie, do you know that your pubic hair turns gray when you get old? seventeen-year-old Dana Flynn asked her older sister, as her nose turned up in disgust. Isn’t that the grossest thing you’ve ever heard ?

Angela cleared her throat as she drove along, quickly bringing her attention back to the road. Well, it certainly doesn’t sound very appealing. The things kids learned in school today; no wonder their thoughts were always about sex.

You don’t have any gray hairs, do you? I mean, down there? Dana’s curious blue gaze drifted toward Angela’s lap.

I’m only thirty, Dana. Give me a break. You treat me like I’m ancient.

"Well, there is such a thing as pre-mature gray, you know."

Yes, Angela knew that. But so far her blond hair hadn’t shown any signs of graying. On her head, or anywhere else. Not yet, anyway.

How would you color them? I mean, they have hair color for your hair, but what would you use on your pu--

Dana, can we please change the subject before Joey gets in the truck? Angela maneuvered the rusty pick-up into a parking space outside Salmon Lake Middle School. You know how inquisitive he is, and I don’t feel like answering a zillion questions about a subject I have no interest in discussing in the first place.

My, aren’t we testy today. Dana rolled her eyes and reached for her backpack. Placing the overstuffed, navy-blue, canvas bag on her lap, she slid next to Angela just as the passenger door flew open.

Hi, Mom. Hi, Dana. Joey Flynn hefted himself onto the seat of the truck and slammed the door. He leaned forward and dropped his backpack next to his sneakered feet. A swath of dark, wavy hair drifted over his sweaty forehead. His face bore smudges of dirt; his gray T-shirt was wrinkled and stained. And he’d decorated his hands with colored markers. Why did twelve-year-old boys have to see how sloppy they could get by the end of the school day? Angela wondered.

Buckle up, she said as she backed out of the parking space and drove around a school bus. How was school, Joey?

Boring, like always. Joey’s typical answer.

Angela heard the seatbelts click into place and turned the truck toward the road. "We have to stop to get some milk. Someone drank it all this morning." She looked past Dana to Joey.

Her son gave her a non-apologetic shrug. Three more weeks until school is out, he said. Matt gets to go on two vacations this summer. One with his mom and one with his dad.

Matt Carlson had been Joey’s best friend since the first grade. His parents were going through a divorce.

Are we going to get to go on vacation this year? he asked.

Sighing, Angela said, Joey, you know we can’t--

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. We can’t afford things like vacations. With the toe of his sneaker, he kicked his black backpack. Being poor sucks.

Watch your mouth.

That’s not swearing, Mom. Everybody says it.

Angela didn’t argue with him, even though she didn’t approve of the word. And we’re not poor, she reminded him.

Dana cocked her head and lifted her brow as if to say, ‘Yeah, right.’ Angela ignored her sister as she turned into the parking lot of the convenience store and turned off the engine. Reaching into the pocket of her jeans, she fished out a five-dollar bill and passed it to Joey. If you grab the milk, I’ll treat you to a candy bar.

He rolled his eyes and scowled as he jumped down from the truck onto the pavement. I’ll pass. I wouldn’t want to bankrupt you. With that, he slammed the door and disappeared into the store.

Angela smiled and shrugged at her sister, trying to hide her hurt feelings, then cranked down her window to let in some fresh air.

I’m never having kids, Dana announced.

Don’t say that, Dana.

"Well, I’m not. I don’t know how you stand it. Always pinching pennies just to make ends meet. It just doesn’t seem worth it."

Of course it’s worth it. She couldn’t imagine her life without Dana and Joey. And it’s only for a little while longer. Once the nursery takes off--

Dana shook her head. You’ve been saying that for three years now. But nobody wants to drive out to the boonies to buy shrubs and stuff. Not when they can get the same things in town at Leland’s for half the price.

Leland’s was a huge nursery and garden supply store on the main drag in Salmon Lake. The nationwide chain offered weekly specials and discounts. It was also Flynn’s biggest competitor. Well, not for much longer. Angela just had to find a way to change all that. She thrived on challenges. The way she saw it was, if she could raise two kids on her own, then she could do anything.

Joey came back to the truck a few minutes later, the scowl still fixed tightly on his face. Angela ignored his sulking on the bumpy ride home. She was used to his tantrums, but she also knew he would soon be over it. Best just to leave him alone for awhile.

When she turned onto the dirt drive of the old farmhouse, which was desperately in need of repairs, her son grabbed his backpack and the milk and hopped out of the truck before she’d even turned off the ignition.

No television until your homework’s done, Joey, Angela shouted after him.

He turned and looked at her over his shoulder as he opened the side door to the house. It’s Joe! Joey’s a baby name. He let the wooden screen door slam shut behind him with a loud thud.

Angela tried to make it a point to call him Joe as he’d asked, but sometimes she forgot. He’d been Joey for twelve years. Old habits were hard to break, and yet she had to face the fact that her son was growing up. It was also hard to believe Dana would be graduating from high school in a few weeks and then she’d be off to college in the fall.

She and Dana followed the path Joey had taken. Angela took a moment to appreciate the flowering Azalea bushes surrounding the house and the smell of evergreen bushes. So, did David ask you to the prom yet? Her sister didn’t answer. Dana?

I decided I don’t really want to go to the prom.

Why not? Angela asked, pulling the squeaky screen door open and holding it for Dana to enter. Once inside, she tossed the keys on the Formica kitchen table. You’ve been hoping David would ask you for almost a week now.

Her sister turned around. It’s just a stupid dance, Angie.

It’s the senior prom! And it will probably be one of the most important events of your life.

You never went to yours.

This isn’t about me. Angela took the gallon of milk off the table where Joey had left it and carried it to the refrigerator.

It’s the same thing. You didn’t go because you couldn’t afford a dress.

Dana . . .

Think about it. All that money for a new dress, just so I can wear it once. And I’d need shoes, too.

I told you not to worry about that. I’ll get the money. Somehow.

Like I said, it’s just a stupid dance. Besides, I’m surprised you want me to go. I mean, I’d have to be alone with David. You can’t send Joe along to chaperone at the prom. She rolled her eyes for effect. Then again, knowing you . . .

The phone rang and Dana rushed to answer it before Angela could argue with her further. After a few soft-spoken words, she turned her attention to Angela and whispered, It’s David. I’m going to take it upstairs in my room. Will you hang it up in a minute?

Sighing, Angela took the receiver from her sister. Sure. She hung up when she heard Dana’s voice a few moments later.

She’d been doing the best job she could raising Dana and Joey, and she didn’t have any regrets. But the kids were right. There never seemed to be enough money. She’d scrimped and saved to build the greenhouse and open the nursery, but with the competition from Leland’s she, too, sometimes wondered if it were worth the effort. She supposed she could always go back to waiting tables at the country club . . . Quickly, she erased the thought from her mind.

She didn’t mind doing without, and she didn’t mind living in the rundown farmhouse. At least the landscaping was a pretty sight. All those years she’d dreamt about owning her own business, and she’d finally done it. Well, she wasn’t about to give up now. She just needed to drum up a little more business and she’d be fine. Leland’s couldn’t possibly offer the kind of personal customer service that Flynn’s could. If only she had some extra money to spend on advertising, then she could tell the public what they could expect if they dealt with a small business as opposed to a national chain.

She used to dream of what her life would have been like had Joey’s father come back for them, but torturing herself with thoughts of what could have been wasn’t going to help her or the kids one tiny bit.

Joe and Matt pedaled their bikes behind the brick, three-story apartment building and parked them near the dark green Dumpster. After making their way across the parking lot, they settled themselves on either side of the fourth basement window from the right. They lay on their bellies, close to the block wall with the small patch of cool grass beneath them. It was almost dark, and the mosquitoes would soon be buzzing. Joe had sprayed his arms and neck with bug spray before leaving his house. He was tired of getting eaten alive, night after night .

The lights were on inside Apartment 4A, the way they usually were this time of night. It was almost as if Miss R wanted them to have a perfect view. They called her Miss R because the name on 4A’s mailbox was R. Simonsen. And neither Joe, nor Matt, had any idea what the lady’s first name was.

Matt sniffed the air, his freckled nose wrinkling in disgust as he made himself comfortable on the ground. Something stinks.

Shrugging, Joe whispered, Bug spray. He nudged the branches of an evergreen bush out of his way and watched the window with anticipation.

Wimp, Matt teased, and pulled his Pittsburgh Pirates baseball cap over his dark hair. Do you think she’s home?

The lights are on, so she must be. Joe couldn’t imagine leaving his house lit up like that if he were going out. His mom would shit a bird for sure. He knew because he’d done it once.

When he’d come home later that night, she’d gone into a twenty-minute lecture about how fortunate they were to have a roof over their heads, and yada, yada, yada. And how they shouldn’t waste electricity. But then she’d hugged him and said she was sorry for screaming at him.

They were fortunate, all right. They lived in a shit-hole house that was falling apart. But for some reason his mom wouldn’t call the landlord to complain.

They’d never had enough money to take a vacation, not to Disneyland, not even camping for a weekend. Yet his mom insisted they weren’t poor, just on a strict budget.

And he hadn’t even bothered to try out for basketball this year, because he knew his mom would never have agreed to let him get a pair of Nike Boeings. Not at a hundred and seventy dollars a pop. All the kids on the team had them--they were the coolest shoes ever--and if he couldn’t have a pair, then he didn’t want to play the stupid game. Life sure sucked sometimes.

There she is! Matt grinned and pointed at the window.

Get down, or she’s going to see us for sure, Joe warned his friend. He kept his own head low as he crawled closer to the window on his elbows for a better view.

Oh, baby, I’m in love. Matt made kissing noises with his lips, looking all goofy like a fish. Show us your tits, Miss R.

The lady had bright red hair that skimmed her shoulders. Joe loved her hair, and wished he could touch it and smell it. Just once, just to see what it would be like. Tonight she was wearing a see-through black bra and teeny black panties. The panties had a string that disappeared in the crack of her butt and showed off her butt cheeks. Not that he got any big thrill looking at Miss R’s butt. Matt said his mom had a pair of panties like that; he’d said he’d seen ‘em in the laundry room one day. Joe’s mom would never wear anything like that, or at least he didn’t think so. Then again, Joe couldn’t imagine Mrs. Carlson wearing them either.

Yep, Miss R’s panties sure were sexy, but not as sexy as her see-through bra. Joe could see her huge dark nipples as clear as day. They poked straight out in front like two bullets.

He felt his face flush, and knew that any minute now he’d probably get a hard-on. His penis would grow thick and hard and stick out at a weird angle. He was careful to stay on his stomach so Matt wouldn’t see.

Joe wondered if Matt’s penis--or dick rather--did the same thing. If it did, Matt had never said anything. Not that Joe wanted him to say anything. That would be too weird, talking about something like that, even if it were with your best friend.

His mom had talked to him about it once. About erections and sex and babies and stuff like that. It had been awful. And then, a few weeks later, they’d seen a movie at school about the same kind of stuff. The boys in his class had all snickered and made jokes about it later, as if they knew all there were to know about sex.

His classmates had bragged that they’d all had sex dozens of times already. So Joe had lied and said he’d had sex, too. The only one he’d told the truth to was Matt, and only after Matt had first admitted that he was still a virgin.

Well, so what if all the boys at school had had sex already? That didn’t make them cool.

Then again, maybe it did.

But if they were having sex with the girls in their class, he didn’t know what the big deal was. None of them even had tits yet. Well, none of ‘em except for Amy Gillespie, and she was fat and ugly.

But what if they were having sex with women, instead of girls? Either way, Joe knew none of them had their very own Miss R to look at. He and Matt sure were lucky, he thought, watching closely as the lady lit a cigarette and blew little smoke rings out of her mouth. She had a ton of red lipstick smeared on her lips, and Joe kinda liked it. It made her mouth look like she wanted to kiss him. Her eyes seemed to be focused on the window as if she knew they were watching her. And maybe she did.

Joe turned his head toward Matt. What do you think she’d do if I knocked on her door and asked her to have, you know, sex with me?

Matt stared at him as if he were crazy. You dickhead. You actually think she’d want to have sex with your scrawny ass? His friend shook his head and snorted. Besides, you stink.

Joe shrugged, feeling a little stupid, but that didn’t stop him from explaining. I read somewhere that women like having sex with young guys because they can last longer than old guys.

Where did you hear something stupid like that?

I told you, I read it in a book, or a magazine. Then it hit him. "Probably in one of Dana’s Cosmopolitan magazines. They talk about all kinds of sex stuff in there."

Matt laughed. "I heard my dad doing it to my mom one time. You know, when he still lived with us. He did it for a really long time, and he’s old. Man, he’s thirty-seven."

Joe raised his brows. What did it sound like?

I don’t know. Mostly like grunts and stuff like that.

Grunts? Joe winced. That didn’t sound like fun.

"I guess he knew what he was doing, though, ‘cause my mom was making all kinds of noises and stuff, and begging him to touch her and kiss her. She even called him Stud."

Really?

Yeah, but it kinda made me feel weird, listening and all. I mean, thinking about my mom saying all that stuff . . . Matt made a sour face. "What about your mom? Did you ever hear her doing it?"

"No, of course not. She doesn’t do stuff like that. I mean, she doesn’t even have a boyfriend. She’s never had a boyfriend."

Well, she had to have had at least one boyfriend. Unless you were adopted.

Joe was sure he wasn’t adopted. Although, with his dark hair and hazel eyes, he sure didn’t look like his mom, or his aunt.

He probably took after his dad, but wished he knew for sure. He’d tried to talk to his mom over the years about his dad, but she always said they’d talk about it when he was older. Jeez, how old did he have to be before she was gonna tell him? Forty? She’d told him about erections and stuff like that, surely she could tell him about his dad.

What about Dana? Is she screwing anyone? Matt asked, a curious look on his face.

"No. Hell, no. I mean, I don’t think so. She’s kinda going out with this guy, David Jensen, but I never saw them do anything more than kiss good-bye in his car a few times."

I bet she’s doing it. No guy is gonna take out a hot babe like Dana and not get some action.

Joe felt his temper rise. Dana isn’t a hot babe. She’s my--

Shit! Look at that.

Turning his full attention on Miss R, Joe felt his dick twitch. She’d taken off her bra and was playing with her big tits, smashing them together in her hands, and tugging on her nipples. Joe wondered if that hurt, then figured it must not ‘cause she sure was smiling while she was doing it.

Damn! Matt squealed under his breath. You know, we should bring a camera next time and take some pictures. Then we could show the guys at school. Maybe we could sell them and make lots of money.

Joe thought that sounded like a good idea. He could use some extra money. His allowance only went so far. Not that there was a lot to begin with. If he and Matt sold pictures of Miss R naked, maybe he could get those Nikes, after all.

Yeah, that sounded like a really good idea, he decided as he and Matt settled down to watch the rest of Miss R’s striptease.

Joe and Matt raced out of the parking lot and started pedaling toward home. They were late, and man were they going to be in trouble. Miss R had taken forever to get naked tonight. Not that their moms would understand. And not that Joe planned to tell his mom any such thing. Man, she’d probably ground him for the rest of his life if she knew what he and Matt had been doing the past few weeks .

As Joe changed gears, the cool night wind blowing in his face, he tried to think of an excuse he could give his mom for being late. He’d gotten lost? Nah, she’d never believe that. He knew every inch of Salmon Lake.

How about ‘We were helping this little old lady . . .’ Nah. Then she’d want to know the old lady’s name and where she lived. Forget that idea. Before he could think of a better excuse, he heard a car pull up alongside them and slow down.

Shit! he said, seeing a black and white car with the words ‘Salmon Lake Police Department’ printed on the side. He and Matt were in big trouble now, he thought, as the cop behind the wheel signaled at them to stop their bikes.

Joe squeezed the handle brake, his heart racing, as he wondered if he and Matt could go to jail for peeking in Miss R’s window. Maybe someone had seen them and called the police.

The passenger window on the police cruiser slid down with a soft whir. Where are you boys headed? the cop asked.

Uh, oh!

Uncle Roman? Matt squinted his eyes as he looked in the car window.

Joe took a closer look at the man. He had dark hair and Joe thought he sort of looked like Matt.

Matt, is that you?

Yeah, it’s me.

The cop pulled off to the side of the road and got out of the cruiser. Your mom called me, he said to Matt. She’s worried about you. Who’s your friend?

This is Joe.

The cop nodded. Let’s toss your bikes in the trunk and I’ll take you both home.

Joe was about to argue, then changed his mind. He didn’t think it would be real smart to argue with a cop. Besides, he was so relieved that he wasn’t going to jail. Now he just had to worry about what his mom was going to say when she saw him drive up in a police car.

After putting their bikes in the trunk, Matt climbed into the front seat, and Joe climbed into the back. As the officer pulled away from the curb he asked, What’s that smell?

Matt answered. That’s Joe. He sprayed himself with bug spray.

The man nodded. Where do you live, Joe?

At the end of Catfish Lane. Did he really stink that bad? he wondered, bringing his arm to his nose and taking a big whiff, then nearly choking on the smell.

Catfish Lane?

Yeah. Do you know where it is?

Yes, as a matter of fact, I know exactly where it is. What did you say your last name was?

Flynn, he mumbled.

Uh, huh.

Joe wasn’t sure if that ‘uh, huh’ was good or bad.

So, what were you boys up to tonight?

Shit, Joe thought again, sinking lower in his seat and trying to avoid the inquisitive eyes that stared at him in the rearview mirror.

Angela paced the living room floor, waiting for Joey to come home. He was twenty minutes late, and he knew he wasn’t allowed out after dark, especially on his bike, and especially on a school night. She was thinking about calling Cindy Carlson to see if Matt had come home yet when she saw headlights coming down the dirt road and then turning into her drive. She pushed her face to the living room window for a better look, and when she saw it was a police cruiser, she flew out the front door .

Oh please, God, don’t let him be hurt. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her son sitting in the back of the cruiser. Both he and Matt seemed unhurt.

Joey, she said, hugging him when he stepped out of the car. What happened?

Nothing happened. We didn’t do anything. Honest, Mom. He just gave us a ride home, that’s all.

Angela hugged him tighter. Thank God you’re all right.

Mom. He squirmed out of her reach. Stop treating me like a baby.

Angela straightened her shoulders and let him go. I was worried about you.

Joey looked down at his feet. I’m sorry.

She turned her attention to the policeman as he got out of the car. She’d barely noticed him until now. He was tall with dark hair and was wearing a uniform; a light gray shirt with dark gray pants. Opening the trunk, he pulled Joey’s bike out and set it on the front lawn. And then, his eyes slowly met hers.

Recognition hit her deep inside as if she’d been punched in the stomach. Trying to find her breath, she wished she had somewhere to turn, somewhere to hide, but it was