Chapter 2

Within the following week, Suzanne settled down to her new routine of classes at Wayne and studies in the evening, and she found a growing sense of satisfaction over her situation. Mr. and Mrs. Delacorte came over one night to visit, and stayed only about an hour. Mrs. Delacorte was horrified. "You're living in a slum," she said primly. "It's a wonder this building hasn't been condemned. Honestly, Suzanne, I don't see how you can be happy here."

Suzanne was thankful for her father's understanding. "You do your thing, little girl," he said with a twinkle in his deep blue eyes. "Would you believe I lived in an apartment just like this before I met your mother. That was before I made it big, of course." Suzanne remembered the many times her father had told her about his struggle to succeed and his eventual emergence as one of Detroit's leading parts manufacturers. Despite his affluence, Mr. Delacorte still retained his earthy quality, and his lack of interest in the Grosse Pointe social scene was a constant thorn in his wife's side. "Your father just doesn't realize the importance of mixing with the right people," Mrs. Delacorte would often tell Suzanne. "Birds of a feather, you know, and all that." And Suzanne would exchange a conspiratorial look with her father.

On her third day in her apartment, Suzanne asked Donald if she could come and visit his mother. He had checked in with her after classes to see if there were any chores she needed done. He was very thrilled at her interest, and together they walked up to West Forest Avenue, across the expressway and down several blocks to an apartment building which, in comparison to Suzanne's, was almost ready to fall apart. Suzanne repressed a shudder as they climbed the stairs, every step creaking from their weight and the walls grimy with years of filth. The air was stagnant and smelled of stale cigarette smoke, liquor and urine.

They entered an apartment on the fifth floor, and she sank immediately into a chair, panting heavily. Donald shouted out for his mother, and a few seconds later, a short, plump woman came ambling into the room.

"Hey, ma, this is Suzanne, the one I told you about," Donald said, proudly showing off a new social conquest.

The woman stared at Suzanne and grinned. As her thick lips pulled back, her bare gums were revealed.

"Howdy," she said. "S'cuse me. I weren't expectin' company. Wait a minute. I'll go put my teeth in."

Suzanne looked at Donald, and in her mind wondered how such a handsome young boy could have come from such a woman. There was hardly one redeeming physical feature about her. Her hair had obviously not been combed in weeks. The loose dress she wore was covered with food stains, and Suzanne could tell she was not wearing any underwear. Her pendulous breasts swayed in front of her, hanging down almost to her navel, bumping out against the dress with obscene movements. She wore no shoes, and her feet were black. Suzanne repressed a shudder, and thought for a moment of her mother, always so elegantly groomed, so beautifully dressed, so exquisitely well-mannered.

"Hey, Ted, you home?" Donald's voice rang out, and a moment later a young man entered the room. "This is my brother, Ted," Donald said. Ted looked down at Suzanne and grinned.

"Well, Donald said you wuz something else," he said, his eyes sliding slowly over her. "I'll say you are."

Suzanne blushed and laughed. "You're pretty good-looking yourself, Ted," she replied, "but then, so's Donald."

"Hey, how about that?" said Ted, moving over, and sitting on the couch next to Suzanne's chair. "Donald says you wanna find out how we live and all that shit."

Suzanne nodded. "Yes, I'm majoring in sociology. I'm planning a project based on the living conditions of people in this area."

Ted laughed coarsely. "Stick around, you'll learn plenty," he said. "We bin here 'bout two years. Me, I'd rather be back in Kentucky. Least we could go rabbit huntin' there. Here all I hunt is girls. There's plenty, too."

"That's nice," said Suzanne, momentarily out of her depth. She was uncomfortably aware of Ted's penetrating glances and the sensuous twist of his mouth. He was slightly taller than Donald, and obviously well-built. His arm muscles rippled under his shirt, and his belt wrapped tightly around his slim waist. For a passing flash, Suzanne caught herself glancing at his crotch, which bulged temptingly. But then, she remembered, so did Donald's. And so had Sam's...

"Well, I feel better now, with my teeth in." The woman came through the door and grinned at them. She had made some effort to comb her hair, and her teeth gleamed between her lips. She still looked like a grotesque mockery of motherhood. "You like somethin' to drink, Suzanne? We got some Cokes."

"Yes, thank you. That would be nice. I'm a little out of breath from climbing those stairs."

"You get used to it," was the calm reply.

"You got you a boyfriend?" asked Ted, his eyes still on her breasts.

Suzanne laughed. "I'm too busy. I'm a student, remember. I don't have much time for anything but books."

"Hell, that ain't no way to live," said Ted. "You got to get out and have a little fun. Maybe you'n me could take in a movie some night."

"You shut your goddamn mouth," came the raucous voice from the kitchen. "Don't you go messing round with Suzanne. She ain't your kind of girl, and you know it."

Ted grinned and made a face in the direction of the other room. "She don't know nothin'," he said in a low voice. "I go with plenty of chicks. All kinds. You ask Donald."

Donald grinned, looking slightly shamefaced. "He's got lots," he said, "but ma don't like him screwing round."

"You damn right I don't." Heavy footsteps and the clatter of Coke bottles signaled her return from the kitchen. "Here, Suzanne. Hope you don't mind drinkin' from the bottle. We're kinda short on glasses."

"That's fine, thank you," Suzanne said.

"Okay, so Donald says you wanna ask some questions. You jest fire away."

There was a slight shake to the floor as the woman subsided into a rickety chair. Suzanne reached into her purse and took out a small notepad and a pencil. As she readied herself, she was grimly aware that Ted's eyes were still on her, and his face held a leering, sensuous quality that disturbed her.

The next day, Suzanne settled down to go over her notes on her first case history. The details amazed her. Donald's mother confessed that she had been married when she was fifteen, and only because she had become pregnant by her husband. She had Ted, and two years later Donald, and then shortly afterwards her husband had been killed in an airplane crash. She received a pension and also assistance from the state. But her income was barely enough to keep body and soul together. She decided to move from Kentucky to Michigan in the hopes of getting employment. Also, she said, the schools would be better for her boys. Unfortunately, her poor educational background precluded her from getting anything but the most menial work, and she felt she would just as soon stay home and subsist on her pension and welfare checks. The boys dropped out of school and earned occasional money as best they could. Ted worked sometimes as a busboy or as a messenger, but he seldom stayed in a job longer than a month.

Suzanne promised to see what she could do to get the woman situated in a position that she could handle and which would bring in some more money for her. She seemed grateful, though not overly enthusiastic. She apparently no longer seemed to care, as long as she was able to feed herself and her sons and pay the low- cost housing rental. Suzanne decided that she would make the family her project: try to get the mother situated, and work on the boys to instill some sense of responsibility and ambition in them. She mentioned her plans to her sociology instructor, who listened attentively, then said, "Lotsa luck!"

She related this to Yvonne, who laughed loudly. "Little Miss Do-Good," she said cynically. "Just wait till you've talked to a few more families around here. You'll realize you're wasting your time."

Suzanne was indignant. "No sincere effort to help others is a waste of time," she retorted. "Maybe all these people really need is to know someone cares about what happens to them."

Yvonne became deadly serious. "Look, my girl," she said, "I've lived in this area for seven years. I know these people. They'll take the handout, but they'll never settle down and work. But if you get your kicks, fine, go ahead and try. But don't be too disappointed. And above all, don't leave yourself open for a pass. Those two kids'll probably just as soon screw you as look at you. They've probably been fucking since they were old enough to get a hard-on. I know these Kentucky hillbillies. They'll fuck anything. So watch out, my girl, unless you want to lose that prize virginity of yours."

Suzanne remembered Ted's glances at her, and his casual reference to going out. But then, she thought, he wouldn't try anything. He knows I'm not interested. Besides, she reasoned, if they did, she could always scream. She'd read somewhere that nothing scares off a would-be rapist quicker than a woman's screams.

She put her notes away and went into the kitchen. She planned to make a quick meal and settle down to studying. She took out a saucepan and filled it with water. As she turned the faucet, she heard a click, and the water continued gushing out even after she had turned the handle off. Impatiently, she walked to the door and down the stairs to Mrs. Sansome's apartment. She knocked, but there was no reply. She went back upstairs, and as she reached the third floor, she saw Donald standing at her door.

"Hi," he said, smiling broadly. "You want anything done?"

With a sigh of relief, she nodded. "My faucet's leaking," she told him, "and Mrs. Sansome's out."

"No problem," he said cheerfully. "Ted's home, and he's done plumbing work. I'll go get him. We'll fix it in a jiffy."

He ran down the stairs, and Suzanne walked back into the kitchen and began peeling some potatoes. Within ten minutes, Donald and Ted were back, armed with wrenches and a washer. Ted greeted her affably, and went to work. Within minutes, he had stepped back triumphantly. The faucet had been fixed.

"Thank you so much," Suzanne said. "How much do you want? A dollar?"

She had learned that almost any chore Donald did was a dollar. Ted nodded.

"That'll be fine," he said.

Suzanne went to her purse, took out the money and handed it over. As he took the bill, he closed his hand over hers and pulled her to him quickly, kissing her on the lips. Suzanne jerked away, her eyes flashing.

"Don't get mad," said Ted lazily, still holding her hand. "Nothin' wrong with a little kiss, now is there?"

Suzanne disengaged herself and moved away, her heart beating unnaturally fast.

"I think... I think you'd both better leave now," she said as calmly as she could. "I have to get supper ready, and I have studying to do."

Ted laughed and leaned up against the sink.

"Maybe you'd like a change tonight," he said. "Like maybe studying something more interesting."

He slid his hand down to his crotch and adjusted his genitals, bunching them up suggestively. Donald broke into a giggle.

"Ted, thank you for fixing the faucet," Suzanne said, desperately trying to cope with the situation, which she felt was getting completely out of hand. "And now, if you don't mind."

Ted walked forward, put his hand around her waist, and pulled her violently to him.

"Come on, I'm a good lay. Ask Donald. He's seen me in action."

She struggled ineffectually, conscious of a growing tension in her loins and a terrible fear in her heart. She heard Yvonne's words in her mind. "Those two kids'll probably just as soon screw you as look at you." Then she felt Ted's lips on hers, and his tongue pushing into her mouth. She struggled, and her hips felt the pressure of his body with its suggestive bulge between his legs.

She managed to break away, and she gasped out a strangled plea. "Ted, please, let me go!"

His arms continued holding her, and his eyes narrowed as they glared at her.

"I ain't lettin' you go," he drawled. "We're gonna have a little fun, just you, me and Donald."

Suzanne felt the tears come splashing down her cheeks.

"I... I'm not that sort of girl," she stammered.

Ted laughed loudly.

"You mean you don't screw around? All you rich bitches from Grosse Pointe fuck. I know. I've had plenty of 'em. And they always come back for more, because I got what it takes. Here, you feel for yourself."

He grabbed her hand and pulled it down between his legs. Her fingers touched the growing hardness there, and she struggled even more.

"Donald, please help me," she begged, turning to the younger boy, and then her eyes widened with horror. Donald was standing, his fly open and his erect penis jutting forth, held in his hands which massaged it gently up and down. "Donald!" Her voice rose almost to a scream, and Ted's hand clamped over her mouth in a flash.

"Now don't you do anything stupid like screaming," he said threateningly. "You got a real purty face. It wouldn't look too good all beat up now, would it?"

Ted began pulling her over to the alcove with the bed.

"Come on, baby brother, you know what to do," he said, his voice chuckling evilly, "Start with her skirt. I want to see that nice hairy pussy of hers."

Suzanne couldn't believe it was happening. This was a nightmare, she knew. Donald was a nice boy. He wouldn't do anything like that. He couldn't. She stared disbelievingly as Donald came over, his penis jutting from his pants, a long, thick organ that she could hardly believe was possible on such a young boy.

Ted held her tightly, and Donald's hands searched for the zipper on the side of her skirt. Her entire body was trembling. She felt him fumble, and then the zipper slid down, and her skirt slipped to the floor.