Joyland(73)

"The girl? One, you might as well be wearing a sandwich board. Two, Mike knows. He told me. He's been my brilliant future. Once upon a time I was going to major in anthropology.

I was going to win a gold medal at the Olympics. I was going to see strange and fabulous places and be the M argaret M ead of my generation. I was going to write books and do my best to earn back my father's love. Do you know who he is?"

"My landlady says he's a preacher."

"Indeed he is. Buddy Ross, the man in the white suit. He also has a great head of white hair. He looks like an older version of the Man from Glad in the TV ads. Mega church; big radio presence; now TV. Offstage, he's an * with a few good points."

She poured two cups of coffee. "But that's pretty much true of all of us, isn't it? I think so."

"You sound like someone with regrets." It wasn't the politest thing to say, but we were beyond that. I hoped so, at least.

She brought the coffee and sat down opposite me. "Like the song says, I've had a few. But Mike's a great kid, and give my father this-he's taken care of us financially so I could be with Mike full-time. The way I look at it, checkbook love is better than no love at all. I made a decision today. I think it happened when you were wearing that silly costume and doing that silly dance. While I was watching Mike laugh."

"Tell me."

"I decided to give my father what he wants, which is to be





STEPHEN KING

invited back into my son's life before it's too late. He said terrible things about how God caused Mike's MD to punish me for my supposed sins, but I've got to put that behind me. If I wait for an apology, I'll be waiting a long time . . . because in his heart, Dad still believes that's true."

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged, as if it were of no matter. "I was wrong about not letting Mike go to Joyland, and I've been wrong about holding onto my old grudges and insisting on some sort of f*cked-up quid pro quo. My son isn't goods in a trading post. Do you think thirty-one's too old to grow up, Dev?"

"Ask me when I get there."

She laughed. "Touche. Excuse me a minute."

She was gone for almost five. I sat at the kitchen table, sipping my coffee. When she came back, she was holding her sweater in her right hand. Her stomach was tanned. Her bra was a pale blue, almost matching her faded jeans.

"Mike's fast asleep," she said. "Would you like to go upstairs with me, Devin?"

?

Her bedroom was large but plain, as if, even after all the months she had spent here, she'd never fully unpacked. She turned to me and linked her arms around my neck. Her eyes were very wide and very calm. A trace of a smile touched the corners of her mouth, making soft dimples. " 'I bet you could do better, if you had half a chance.' Remember me saying that?"

"Yes."

"Is that a bet I'd win?"



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Her mouth was sweet and damp. I could taste her breath.

She drew back and said, "It can only be this once. You have to understand that."

I didn't want to, but I did. "Just as long as it's not . . . you know . . . "

She was really smiling now, almost laughing. I could see teeth as well as dimples. "As long as it's not a thank-you f*ck? It's not, believe me. The last time I had a kid like you, I was a kid myself."

She took my right hand and put it on the silky cup covering her left breast. I could feel the soft, steady beat of her heart. "I must not have let go of all my daddy issues yet, because I feel delightfully wicked."

We kissed again. Her hands dropped to my belt and unbuckled it. There was the soft rasp as my zipper went down, and then the side of her palm was sliding along the hard ridge beneath my shorts. I gasped.

"Dev?"

'What?"

"Have you ever done this before? Don't you dare lie to me."

"No.''

"Was she an idiot? This girl of yours?"

"I guess we both were."

She smiled, slipped a cool hand inside my underwear, and gripped me. That sure hold, coupled with her gently moving thumb, made all of Wendy's efforts at boyfriend satisfaction seem very minor league. "So you're a virgin."

"Guilty as charged."

"Good."

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STEPHEN KING


It wasn't just the once, and that was lucky for me, because the first time lasted I'm going to say eight seconds. Maybe nine. I got inside, that much I did manage, but then everything spurted everywhere. I may have been more embarrassed once-the time I blew an ass-trumpet while taking communion at Methodist Youth Camp-but I don't think so.

"Oh God," I said, and put a hand over my eyes.

She laughed, but there was nothing mean about it. "In a weird way, I'm flattered. Try to relax. I'm going downstairs for another check on Mike. I'd just as soon he didn't catch me in bed with Howie the Happy Hound."

"Very funny." I think if I'd blushed any harder, my skin would have caught on fire.

"I think you'll be ready again when I come back. It's the nice thing about being twenty-one, Dev. If you were seventeen, you'd probably be ready now."