Part 31 (1/2)

Girl? Relative? She can't be out on her own, can she?

What is up with me? Why do I care who she lives with?

s.h.i.+t, I really am bored, aren't I?

Bored and bleeding. Sounds like the name of a book: Bored and Bleeding in Vegas.

Okay, Alex, you'd better get home soon, or I'll turn into a bored, bleeding, babbling loon.

Early Evening And Alex still isn't back yet.

Where the h.e.l.l is she? I call her cell, but the canned voice that answers informs me that she's unavailable, meaning she's out of prepaid minutes.

Guess I'll have to be patient.

I fold the clothes, put them away. Treat myself to a Lean Pocket. Turn on the aged TV.

Half listen to Jeopardy! while I go to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alex, coming up the sidewalk.

I don't see her, but I do see heroin chic going into her room, about six paces in front of a guy.

He's older. Balding. Her father?

My guess is no way, or if he does happen to be her father, it's a definite case of incest.

Is Every Girl In this nasty, stinking city turning tricks? Young, old, at least as old as you can get without dying of some incurable s.e.x disease? I swear, I will never do that, never sink as low as my mother. My pretty heroin chic neighbor.

My beautiful best friend, who I love so much it hurts.

And I swear, as soon as I can, I will find a way out of this place. Will Alex come?

Or have I lost her to the night?

She Stumbles In Around nine. Worry turns to relief. Then I take another look at her-hair mussed, makeup smeared, clothes wrinkled and b.u.t.tons undone.

Relief explodes into anger.

”Where the f.u.c.k have you been?” I sound like a crow.

”You scared me s.h.i.+tless.”

Alex remains placid. Been taking care of business is all. Someone's got to.

It's more than a little bit obvious that the day's ”business” included more than stripping. The smell of sweat and s.e.x hangs in the air, a storm cloud.

”Alex, what have you done?

You're not turning tricks like some hooker, are you?”

A strong memory of Iris stumbling in after dark, perfumed in s.e.x, surfaces, swims into blurry view.

G.o.dd.a.m.n it, no! ”Please, Alex, tell me you didn't.”

But she doesn't deny. Won't say I'm wrong. It's okay, Gin.... It's not so bad, really.

I mean, the s.e.x isn't good, but it's fast, and all things considered, the pay scale isn't bad. Fifty bucks for under ten minutes' work?

Three hundred an hour!

s.h.i.+t, girl, that's attorney wages, and you don't have to go to school- ”Stop it! We don't need money that bad. I'll get off the rag and we'll go back to stripping.

”Lydia can have her cut. We were doing okay like that, weren't we?” We were, d.a.m.n it!

Finally Alex deflates just a little. Sit down. Please?

There's stuff you don't know.

Like how she knew all about Lydia's escort service before we ever got here. Like how Lydia never invited her to ”come stay any time.” Like how when we talked about running away, Alex called Lydia and set the whole thing up. Like how Lydia promised to keep her mouth shut, as long as Alex went to work for her. Like how Alex's not-stepdad did call, looking for her. But Lydia denied knowing a thing.

So Alex owes her, big-time.

Alex Goes to Shower But not before promising again, It will just be for a little while-just until we can save up enough to blow this freaking city.

I love you, Gin. Stay cool.

I love her, too. And I can't stand the idea of her being with a bunch of stinking, nasty men. If I could bring myself to do it too, we could save up even faster. But I don't think I could. I'd be no better than Iris. Would I? Did she ever think, Just for a little while?

The room still wears evidence of Alex's recent encounters.

I go to open the window. Notice Ms. Heroin going through her door again. Followed by another guy. Not her father, either.

A Poem by Cody Bennett

Door

I once heard an old saying about things going all to h.e.l.l.

It went, ”When a door closes, somewhere a window opens.”

If so, when a train slams into a Volkswagen, does a BMW materialize down the tracks? If you remember your undies in your dreams, do you wake up naked? Okay, maybe the logic fails.

But hey, let's face it. Logic doesn't really apply to old sayings, either. Does it?