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into a torn T-shirt, over which he
put on a black leather jacket festooned with metal rings on which hung silver
swastikas. He clumped around in high-heeled white lizard-skin cowboy boots.
    "I could send you right to heaven, Mama. Just like
Jackie. Man, you got the hottest little lady in South Florida."
    "Get out of here, you pig," Grace shouted
shakily, trying to stare down the arrogant expression of disdain on the young
man's face. Dressed now, his lips formed in a cocky smile.
    "Pig you say," the young man said, turning to the
closed bathroom door. "Hey, Jackie, your mama thinks I'm a pig." He
turned again to Grace. "Hell, you got that right. I been porkin' your
daughter." He let out a high-pitched laugh.
    "Just leave, please," Grace snapped.
    The young man shrugged, then opened his hands palm upward.
    "Not like I raped her. Other way around, Mama. Little
girl of yours goes for the meat." He cupped his crotch again.
    "You know how old she is?" Grace sneered.
    "I don't ask for no birth certificates."
    "She's sixteen," Grace blurted, shocked by his
sudden hateful references.
    "Nothin' tighter than that, Mama."
    "You could be in big trouble," Grace said.
    The young man moved closer to Grace. His nose was almost
touching hers.
    "Come on, Mama," the young man said. "Cool
out. You wouldn't want to make no trouble, would you, Mama? Not for your hot
little baby there." He tucked her under the chin.
    "No," Grace conceded. "I don't need more
trouble."
    "Smart Mama."
    The young man winked.
    "Maybe if you're a good little Mama, I give you a ride
on my hog. Got a bitch pad with a golf ball. Wrap your legs around that, Mama,
and you'll know what high is."
    The young man turned and walked to the window, opening the
blinds.
    "See that beauty, Mama?" He pointed to a black
Harley-Davidson motorcycle, glistening brightly in the sun. His eyes, she
noted, were glazed with pride and admiration, as if it were a religious icon.
He moved closer to Grace again and whispered, "Ain't that somethin', Mama?
Better than pussy. Rigid frame Evo with a kicker, look at them pulled back
buckhorns, two hot cylinders, thirteen-forty CC. Go for a put on that hog,
Mama, you gonna be in heaven." He laughed his high-pitched laugh again,
then knocked three times on the bathroom door. From inside came the sound of a
shower.
    "See you, baby. Me and your mama's been makin' it up.
I promised her a ride on my Evo," he shouted.
    He looked toward Grace, who was only partially confused by
his biker's talk, which had evolved for his generation. Jason had had a bike
when they were going together. He winked again, cupped his crotch, then made a
good-bye gesture with two fingers.
    "You didn't use a condom," Grace said, suddenly
frightened by what she had observed.
    "Looked like nice, clean meat to me," the young
man said, punching Grace lightly on the arm. Shaking his head, he swaggered out
of the front door. Moments later, she heard him gun the motorcycle and roar
away.
    Grace sat down at the table and tried to calm down. The
young man was positively awful. She shivered with fright. Her hands shook. The
sense of her parenting failure was overwhelming. She wished she could cry, but
she couldn't. After awhile, the bathroom door opened and Jackie, wearing a
robe, a towel wrapped around her head and looking remarkably fresh and
unruffled, came out. There was not a sign of contrition on her face.
    "You weren't supposed to be home," Jackie said.
    Grace looked up. Jackie without makeup was radiant, a
vision of the unspoiled, virginal, hardly the image of the wanton sexpot she
had just seen squirming on her bed.
    "I can't believe this, Jackie," Grace said,
shaking her head.
    "Mom. It happened, okay? Maybe if I had a car..."
    "Good God!"
    "Darryl's been taking me to school on his hog for the
past month. So I cut Phys Ed this morning. He was going to take me back for
afternoon classes. What's the big deal?"
    "The boy's a horror. Did you see that knife he
carries, and those swastikas?