The Easy Way Out

27

Faye Chavers was obsessed with finery, particularly fashionable dresses and shoes. "A lady never knows who she might meet while she's about running her errands," she would often say rationalizing an exorbitant purchase with wanton disregard for her credit limit. Whether she was shopping at the local grocery mart, attending a school meeting, or riding the bus into town to get her hair done, she and her little daughter, Ashley, were always dressed to the nines.

But those days seemed to belong to a different era. Once Ashley had slipped into puberty, filling out and outgrowing her wardrobe, Aunt Dina provided scant funding for new clothes. Adolescent boys didn't seem to notice Ashley's ill-fitting skirts and blouses, but Shelby Sinclair and her clique never missed an opportunity to belittle her.

Standing in line along the curb in front of the school building, waiting for her afternoon school bus, Ashley turned her back when Shelby, a future trophy wife, and her three friends approached, decked out in designer clothing. Ashley felt their eyes and winced as the giggling commenced.

"Looks like Chavers found some bargains at the Goodwill," Shelby sneered, her wide mouth turned up at the corner.

Ashley spun, straightening to full height, narrowing her eyes at the girl.

"I beg your pardon," Shelby offered a sarcastic apology. "I'm sure you're the best-dressed swamp rat at the trailer park."

"You best get that bony butt of yours movin'," Ashley said. "You don't wanna be late for your personality transplant."

She stared back, mouth open. For the first time in her life, Shelby Sinclair had no comeback.

########

After school, Ashley took inventory of the canned goods in the stockroom of Gandy's General Store, listing product counts on a notepad. At her awkward age, two physiological forces were at odds. The petulant child she'd almost grown out of was not fully prepared to surrender to the woman she was becoming.

Mr. Gandy, with his slicked-back hair and smelling of cheap aftershave, entered, pulling the door closed behind him. "So, how are you today, Ashley?"

"Fine, thanks," she said, pretending not to have detected his predatory intentions.

"You been doing a good job for me. A real good job."

She smiled but her expression showed no pleasure.

He drew uncomfortably close. She stepped away, continuing counting jars. He gently placed his hands on her hips. She spun away, backpedaling.

"Mr. Gandy," she said, finding it difficult to sound assertive.

"There's no problem here," he grinned, blocking her only exit from the aisle.

"Mr. Gandy, no," she said as he persisted.

"You are so awful darn pretty." He petted her cheek with the back of his hand. "Prettier even than your ma and then some."

"Let me pass. Please."

"How would you like to make twenty dollars?... Huh?" He stepped back, eying her. He lowered his voice. "Just slip out of those trousers for me. For just a minute."

"No!"

"I just want to look at you, is all."

"I want to go now."

"Twenty dollars. For just taking off your dungarees for a couple of minutes. My sweet Lord, you are fine."

"Mr. Gandy, I'm thirteen years old."

"Twenty-five dollars then."

Her tone shifted, angry and sharp. "I'll just bet the police would love to hear about this."