Sex. Murder. Mystery(73)
You snotty little bitch, he thought.
The next day, Bart returned to help out with the Sheetrock. And though he thought Rochelle was a pretty girl, she was undeniably and dangerously young.
“Are you going to spend the night?” Sharon asked not long after he first started coming around to do the basement finish work.
“It don’t matter,” he said. While the drive back to Trinidad was a bitch after a long day, it wasn’t so far he couldn’t commute.
Sharon took his ambivalence as interest.
“You can sleep downstairs with Rochelle,” she said.
Startled, Bart didn’t know what to make of the offer. He couldn’t imagine a girl's mother—a normal mother—making that kind of a statement to a young man. If she was asking for trouble, Bart Mason made up his mind, he certainly was not going to give it to her. That night Bart slept with Rochelle, but he kept his pants on and fully zipped.
“I never touched her,” he said of that first night. “I just respected her.” But in time, Bart succumbed to his attraction for the pretty, young girl. The two, in fact, began to date.
Sharon continued to court the role of best friend when it came to Rochelle. She told Bart that Rochelle had been under Preacher Mike's thumb for too long and she needed to spread her wings. It was Rochelle's turn to have fun. Consequently, Sharon asked nothing of her oldest daughter. And beyond hauling water now and then, Rochelle did little to help out around Round House.
Two weeks after Bart started seeing Rochelle, a father was talking to Sharon about his worries about his youngest son. He hoped his boy had enough sense not to mess around and get some girl pregnant.
“I don’t have to worry about my daughter,” Sharon said, indicating Rochelle. “She's on the Pill.”
Bart felt his face grow hot with embarrassment, then a surge of anger. It didn’t seem right that a mother would broadcast that about her own daughter.
Sharon doesn’t have any self-respect, any respect for anyone, he thought.
About four months after Bart and Rochelle started dating, Sharon asked a question that almost knocked him over.
“Is Rochelle good in bed?” she asked.
Bart shot her a harsh stare and turned away. This woman was unbelievable.
On an outing to a Wal-Mart in Pueblo, Rochelle whined that she wanted a set of hot curlers. Bart, who had just started a new job, said there wasn’t enough money to go around for that kind of item. Not then. When the paychecks rolled in, he’d buy it for her.
“But I want it now,” she whined.
Bart stuck to his guns. “Can’t have it.”
During the young couple's discourse, Sharon stepped forward with a smile. As always, she had an answer.
“If you want it bad enough, there are ways to get things,” she said.
The next thing he knew, Sharon and Rochelle had gone through the checkout line and were headed for the car. They had hidden bulky boxes containing a blow-dryer and some hot curlers in the folds of their clothing.
When Bart found out, he blew his top.
“I don’t appreciate this,” he said. “It isn’t right. I could lose my job over something like this.”
“Bart,” Sharon said with a laugh, “sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to get what you want in life.”
And then what became her mantra: “If it ain’t illegal, it ain’t fun.”
One day, Bart and Sharon's retread lover Harry got into a heated argument over Rochelle. Sharon had invited Harry to move in when she returned from another fight with Buzz Reynolds. No one knew if the break from Buzz was permanent or transitory or if Gary would be back. Nevertheless, while Sharon stayed with Buzz at his ranch, Bart and Rochelle had the run of the house. When Harry Russell moved into the master bedroom of Round House, things changed. He acted like he owned the place. The argument between Harry and Bart started out small and snowballed, the way arguments often do when alcohol is poured into the mix of misunderstanding and control. Bart wanted Rochelle to come to town to watch him play in a Saturday softball tournament. Harry didn’t want Rochelle going anywhere. Harry Russell was in charge— all 350 pounds of him.
“This is my house!” Harry bellowed.
A stunned and angry Rochelle and Bart went outside and Harry followed.
“I’ll do what I want and so will Rochelle!” Bart called over his shoulder.
“I’ll kick your ass!” the older man yelled.
“I doubt it,” said Bart as he and Sharon's teenaged daughter got in to his truck and drove off.
A couple of days afterward, Harry stormed into the little restaurant operated by Bart's parents. He was still hopping mad. Bart, in the midst of getting ready for work at a supermarket construction site, didn’t have time for Harry Russell. Harry, however, was in a talking mood.