Part 36 (1/2)
It wasn't because they were fat or bald, but because of what I saw in their eyes. More accurately, what I didn't see in their eyes: life. Sharks, that's what they were.
Dead cold scary. No way was I chancing a swim with them.
Most johns are more mackerel than great white. Cold slimy bait fish, quick to jump into the net, especially when what they're jumping in after still looks fresh.
Don't know how long that can last. Hooking uses you up fast.
Figure in hyping, I'll look thirty before I turn seventeen. I turn sixteen day after tomorrow, not that one single person in the world gives half a d.a.m.n.
Why Did I Have to Go And think about that? d.a.m.n!
If I were still in Santa Cruz, I'd be planning my Sweet Sixteen party.
Daddy would insist. We'd have it at the club, and we'd have a band, and Paige would be there and maybe even Kyra.... Oh my G.o.d. What have I done? Daddy must think. ...
What? I'm dead? Mom hopes I am.
But not. ... Daddy. I'm sorry. s.h.i.+t!
I sit down hard. Sidewalk cement bites into my b.u.t.t, which is naked beneath a short denim skirt. My head tilts against my knees, and my eyes trickle tears. Heavy. My head is so heavy.
The H wants to take me away and I want to go. Away. Far. Where nothing hurts. Nothing ... Eyes on me. Are there eyes? Don't look. Have to.
To know ... Who? Can't lift my head.
Roll it sideways. Are you all right?
The eyes are talking. No. Not eyes.
Lips. Stupid. Eyes can't talk.
Do you want me to call 911?
”N-no thanks. I'm o-o-k-kay.”
So okay I can't even say okay.
For some messed-up reason, I start to hiccup. ”Ju-” Hick.
”Just think-” Hick. ”Thinking about my b-” Hick. ”Buh-birthday.”
Hick. Hick. Hick. Somehow I manage to focus my eyes.
The guy isn't pretty, but his expression is kind enough. Maybe even concerned. Are you sure you're okay? You been drinking?
Can you get this screwed up from alcohol? Looney Tunes laughter- hick-hick- spits from my mouth.
”Sorry. No, don't drink much.”
Now I can see the wolf in his eyes.
No surprise. Even nice enough guys go on the prowl. Okay. What do you do that's fun, then?
I Swear Until This Moment I never even noticed his hand creeping up my leg, ever closer to my semi-exposed crotch.
Eyes can be deceptive when they talk. I crack up again.
This time, at least, the hiccups seem to have disappeared. But I'm starting to ache for a rig.
Bryn's words settle through the fog. Leave something to the imagination. I give the guy a quick feel before pus.h.i.+ng his hand away. ”Oh, I for sure know how to have fun.” Game on.
Wait. Bryn again. Ask if he works vice. ”You a cop or what?”
He grins. Or what. I'm not even from around here. He stands, pulls me to my feet, steadies my wobble.
Live close? I'll walk you home.
It Isn't Far Just eight blocks. The guy chit- chats the whole time. Something about Omaha. Cornhuskers? He played for them? Bets on them?
Oh yeah. Sportsbook. Won five big ones. (How big? Hundreds?
Bigger?) I can't concentrate on what he's saying. All I can think about is a syringe full of magic.
How fast can I do this guy?
We swing into the parking lot, cut across to Building Two.
Key. I need the key. It's in my purse somewhere. Too much c.r.a.p in here. Like, why do I carry it, anyway? Just to irritate myself?
We reach the apartment and I hear Bryn again. Look around before you open the door. I do. A car is parking a few s.p.a.ces down.
And going up the stairs of the other building is that girl I see sometimes, mostly in the laundry room. Copacetic.
Cool word. Where did it come from?
I unlock the door, start to turn the k.n.o.b, when more words fall into my brain.
Business before pleasure. I turn.
The guy is so close, we're almost attached. I give him a little shove backward. ”Before we go in, we should talk about what you want and how much that will cost you.”
Cost? You want me to pay for it?
He pushes me inside. I don't pay for s.e.x. Even if I did, I wouldn't pay for you, you junkie b.i.t.c.h.
He is all predator now, and on me.