Pie Town - Lynne Hinton [46]
Trina grinned and winked at the boy. “I like that,” she said. “You can check on me anytime,” she added, stepping out on the landing and leaning over the stair railing. “And one day we’re going to get you up here so you can see what I’ve done to the place.”
Alex nodded. “That’d be nice,” he said.
“Good,” Trina responded. “Y’all have fun and I’ll see you later.” She blew a kiss to the boy. “And you too, Sheriff.”
Roger nodded and headed down the stairs. He watched as Alex waved again at the young woman. “Thanks, Grandpa,” the boy said when he made his way beside the older man.
Roger just shook his head and squeezed the boy on the shoulder as he moved past him. “You and your bad feelings,” he said. “I told you she was fine.”
“Yeah,” Alex responded. “But it was worth the view, don’t you think?” He grinned and spun his chair around to follow his grandfather.
Trina watched from the small landing as the two of them moved toward the driveway and got in the van. She opened her screen door and walked back into the apartment. She glanced over at the clock to confirm what her landlord had said. It was four o’clock in the afternoon. She sighed and went back to the bed, heading under the covers. “What happened last night?” she asked herself. And then she closed her eyes and started to remember.
Trina had decided to walk back to her apartment even though several people at the party had offered her a ride. She explained that she liked moonlight walks and that she felt as if she needed the exercise. That had been almost nine or nine-thirty, she thought. She figured it was about three or four miles from the school to her apartment. That was nothing compared to how many miles she used to walk in a day. She hadn’t gotten very far, a mile maybe, when the pickup truck stopped in front of her. It was an old Ford, red but the paint faded, short bed, new tires. The engine knocked a bit, and she guessed it was because of cheap gas. She had seen the driver before, in town, the second day she was there. She was walking then too, asking everybody she saw about a job. He had been standing in front of the hardware store when she went in to ask the manager if he had any openings. She felt the boy watching her then, but he hadn’t spoken to her. She remembered him from the party too.
She walked just past the driver’s side and looked in.
“You want a ride?” he asked. He had dark hair, brown eyes, tan, muscular arms.
Trina smiled. “Where’s your girlfriend?” she asked, recalling that he hadn’t been standing alone for long in front of the hardware store before a girl came up and stuck her arm through his, the same girl he had been coupled with at the party. She was young, probably not more than fifteen or sixteen.
“I took her home,” he answered, grinning.
Trina studied the boy. He didn’t look much over sixteen himself. A little arrogant, she thought, but safe.
“So, do you want a ride or not?” he asked again, this time looking straight ahead.
“Is there anything else to do in this town?” Trina asked.
He turned back to her, raising his eyebrows. “I know some places,” he replied.
And with that, she opened up his door and climbed over him to sit on the passenger’s side.
She was not a whore, like her father called her. She didn’t sell sex. She didn’t get money or ask for favors when she slept with a man. She didn’t think of the encounters she had as business opportunities or some means to an end. She just liked sex. She liked the way she felt as soon as she realized the flirting had begun. She liked the excitement of it, the pleasure it brought, the intimate way she joined with a boy, their bodies fitting so perfectly.
She was not a slut either. She knew that type of girl too. A slut performed sex while always maintaining some hidden agenda. She slept around to gain access to another world or find opportunities to move out of the world in which she felt trapped. Sex for a slut was a way to better herself, make friends, have people she could call on. Trina didn’t need sex for money or to prove anything or to escape