Darkhouse

EIGHTEEN

Stinger’s Creek, North Central Texas, 1986

Ashley Ames stood at her bedroom mirror deciding whether or not she had finished her makeup. It was subtle on her pale skin; blush, mascara and a slick of frosted lipstick. She emptied her cosmetic bag and ran her fingers over the products. She found what she was looking for, a black eyeliner she barely knew how to use. She uncapped it and leaned in to the glass. Her nine-year-old sister Luanne lay behind her on the bed.

When she was finished, Ashley turned to her, holding a hairbrush up to her mouth: ‘Today, Ashley Ames is modelling a hot-pink off-the-shoulder top with a butt-length grey sweatshirt-skirt, complemented by a pair of classic white Keds. Or today, Ashley Ames meets her man in a hot-pink off-the-shoulder shirt with a mid-thigh ruffle skirt worn with black high-heel ankle boots.’

Luanne continued. ‘Could her hair be any higher, could her eyeliner be any heavier—’

‘Shut up, Lu,’ said Ashley. ‘So, what am I wearing?’

‘The ruffles,’ said Luanne. ‘But Daddy’s gonna freak.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s kinda slutty,’ said Luanne.

‘Like you’d know.’ Ashley wriggled into the skirt, zipping it at her side. A small roll of flesh slipped over the band. She turned and patted herself on the butt.

‘Bask in my glory, Lu, bask in my glory.’

She sat on the bed and zipped up her boots over her chubby calves, tilting her legs to the side. She grabbed her bag, threw in some makeup and walked tall to the door. As she walked into the living room, Westley Ames lowered his newspaper.

‘I don’t know, Ash, honey,’ he said, shaking his head.

‘You don’t know what, Daddy?’

‘If they’re the right clothes for a young lady, if they’re saying the right thing.’

‘What do you think they’re saying, Daddy?’

‘Don’t you challenge me like that, Ashley.’

‘I’m sorry, Daddy. It’s just everyone…I mean, it’s not like I’m the only one, I like my clothes, they’re not saying anything to anyone.’

‘And what’s all that black around your eyes?’ he said.

‘It’s eyeliner, Daddy, no big deal.’

‘And who is this young man, anyway?’ said Westley.

‘Donnie Riggs, Daddy. You know Donnie.’

‘I know of Donnie, Ashley, I do not know Donnie and neither do you. We can only pray he’s nothing like his father, because if I so much as catch a whiff of alcohol on your breath when you come home, you’ll never see the outside world again. Do you hear me, Ashley?’

‘It’s the middle of the day, Daddy. And you know I’d never drink,’ she said and turned to walk out of the room, smiling.

Donnie Riggs sat on the kerb between two cars, a block away from Ashley’s house. He flicked his cigarette butt on the road and stood up, smoothing down his dirty jeans. His legs were shaky and his face was hot. He didn’t want to look Westley Ames in the eye today.

He rang the doorbell and Mrs Ames answered, her right arm hooked around her narrow waist, a string of pearls lying flat against her chest.

‘Hello, Donnie,’ she said, giving him a weak smile.

‘Hello, ma’am,’ said Donnie. ‘Ashley here?’

‘Come on in.’

She turned her head and smiled when she saw her daughter walk from the living room. She was close to tears when she looked at Donnie.

‘You look after her,’ she said.

‘Mom!’ said Ashley.

‘You don’t mind me saying that, Donnie, do you?’ said Mrs Ames.

‘Of course not, ma’am,’ he said. ‘And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.’ Ashley smiled, taking Donnie’s arm.

The sun was high, sending ripples of silver light across the water. Duke sat in the darkness of the densely packed trees, his legs drawn to his chest. A flashlight lay on the grass beside him. After waiting quietly for half an hour, he heard footsteps along the path and a girl laughing. Then he heard Donnie’s voice and the dull clink of beer bottles. The sounds drifted away as they moved towards the water’s edge.

‘Nah. I didn’t do too well in that one,’ said Donnie. ‘Geography’s not my thing. And I hate Baxter. He’s a loser.’

‘Yeah,’ said Ashley.

Donnie fidgeted with a bottle cap, flicking it in the air with his thumb over and over.

‘Earth to Donnie, earth to Donnie,’ said Ashley. He turned to look at her as if he had forgotten she was there.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘Want another beer?’

‘Sure,’ she said.

He reached behind them to grab a bottle and when he sat up his face was inches from hers. She closed her eyes. He leaned in and kissed her on the lips, guiding her gently back onto the grass beside him.

‘Above the waist,’ she said, smiling, slapping Donnie’s hand away.

A twig cracked. Duke had been standing over them, watching silently. Ashley bolted upright, fixing her top, staring at Duke. Donnie sat up, panic flashing across his face.

‘Hi, Pu—, uh, hi Duke,’ she said, confused.

‘Keep goin’, guys, don’t worry ’bout me,’ said Duke.

She looked at him, alarmed. Then she smiled.

‘Sure,’ she said, looking at Donnie, laughing. Donnie looked nervous. She looked back to Duke.

‘Seriously,’ he said, his voice ice cold. ‘Keep. Going.’

Donnie put his arm around her waist, pulling her towards him. She pushed him away.

‘What y’all talkin’ about?’ she said, getting up. ‘Are you crazy?’

‘Just do it,’ said Duke, shoving her on top of Donnie. Ashley’s eyes were wide. She knew these guys, she could identify them. Then her heart sank. She knew she never would.

‘Get down to it,’ said Duke. ‘I’ll sit back here and take it all in and maybe I’ll get myself a bit of the action later.’

‘Come on now, Ashley,’ said Duke when it was all over. He shook out her handbag, then picked up her compact. ‘Fix that face of yours. You’ve ruined your mascara. Go on, now.’

He pushed the mirror in front of her face. She saw the tears roll down her cheeks. He picked up her brush from the grass and began brushing the back of her hair. He pulled out the leaves and shook the dirt that clung to the matted brown mess. ‘What would your daddy think? He would think his little girl was a whore, his little princess was out on her first date, givin’ it up to a no-good like Donnie Riggs.’ He laughed. Donnie stayed quiet beside him. Ashley took the brush from Duke and dragged it through her hair. ‘Leave me alone,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m not going to tell anyone, I can’t tell anyone. Just leave me alone. Please go.’ Duke picked up the bloodied flashlight and walked away.

‘Molasses takes out grass stains,’ muttered Donnie as he turned to go.

Ashley looked into the tiny mirror and saw the mascara streaked down her face. When she wiped it all away and smeared on more makeup, she looked almost the same as when she had walked out her door. Except for her eyes. She picked herself up off the ground and walked slowly to the edge of the woods and out on to the road.

As she walked the final few metres to her house, Duke passed her by and nodded.

‘It coulda been a lot worse, Ashley.’ He waited a beat. ‘You should see what we do for our next trick.’