Part 41 (1/2)

A Poem by Ginger Cordell Wind Shuffles autumn feet across November sand, stirring grit like ice chips. Crystal white.

It blows along deserted sidewalks, crusts lonely avenues. Where has she gone? Panicked, I search for her in familiar places.

Restaurants. Theaters.

Alleyways adjacent the heart of the city. I call out her name. It returns, hollow, an echo.

Ginger

Late Night Last Night

Three outcalls, one post-midnight.

It was a good night for tips, so Alex and I celebrated with fine Italian dining and people watching on the strip. I slept in this morning, lay in our bed, still perfumed with our lovemaking. We don't do that so much now. I've missed it. But more and more, Alex flinches when I touch her. Not just me, I think. But anyone. Everyone.

It took twenty minutes of gentle kissing and easy ma.s.sage to arouse her even slightly. And while she had no problem pleasing me, nothing I did could bring her all the way.

s.e.x for Alex is nothing but a job.

It isn't in my power to fix that.

It's strange, really. Strange and sad. When we first got here, it was me who shrank from touch.

Alex taught me the joy of skin against my own skin. She showed me how to feel without fear.

Now she's the one afraid to feel.

I wish that I could change that.

But she's built a fortress around her. A sand castle. It's bound to crumble. And when the sea rushes in, I'm afraid she'll drown.

It's Almost Noon By the time I yank myself out of bed. ”Alex?” I call, but my intuition tells me I'm alone.

I check the bathroom, wander into the living room. No Alex.

d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n. She can't be out turning tricks already! What is wrong with her? We don't need the extra money. I don't get it.

I want to find her, drag her off the street or out of whatever car she has gotten into. But Vegas is a big city. Alex could be anywhere. Still, she has a few favorite places. I clean up, get dressed, call a cab, head out the door. d.a.m.n. What's going on across the parking lot? Looks like a garage sale.

Oh. Whitney. An ambulance took her away a few days ago.

Guess the landlord decided she's not coming back and neither is her sleazy pimp boyfriend.

A small knot of people stand around watching the landlord haul her stuff out of the place.

Sounds like the creep is taking offers. I go up to an older lady.

”Everything for sale, huh?”

The woman barely looks at me. Too busy checking out bargains. She shrugs. Guess so.

Poor Whitney. How far did you run this time?

”Why? Did she ... is she ...?”

The lady shrugs again. Don't know. But hey, those junkies are the walking dead, anyway.

Junkies and Wh.o.r.es Whitney and Alex. No life force left behind the lenses.

The walking dead. Spot-on.

My cab arrives. Not a driver I know. Where to? he demands, tapping the steering wheel like he's got somewhere better to be. When I hesitate, he drops the flag. Where you want to go?

I'm not in the mood for snippy cabbies. ”Just drive down Las Vegas Avenue. I'll tell you when to turn.”

It's my dime. I'll spend it how I want to. I have him cruise in circles, in an area known for its strip clubs and accompanying activities. ”Slow down. I might want you to stop.” Feels good to be the one giving orders for a change.

I see several working girls. A few guys. One or two in the ”not sure”

category. There. That's her.

Right there in the plain light of day, hustling. ”Stop here!”

He pulls to the curb, and I hand him two twenties for a thirty-two-dollar fare. He looks at me. Change?

”G.o.dd.a.m.n straight.” No tips for smart-a.s.sed cabbies. Off he drives in a huff. Good.

Alex doesn't notice me right away. Too busy working a guy in ugly purple Bermuda shorts.

I tap her shoulder. ”What's up, girlfriend? You're not thinking about doing this guy, are you?”

Alex jumps. Ginger! What the h.e.l.l? She looks at Bermuda, who is seriously checking me out.

He licks his lips. Well, h.e.l.lo.

You're not really her ”girlfriend,”

are you? Meaning, are you two, like, lezbos? ”Actually, I am her girlfriend. Why, you want to watch?” You effing pervert.

I can't believe how p.i.s.sed I am, or how submissive Alex is acting. I expected more of a reaction. Bermuda reacts for both of them. h.e.l.l yeah!

How much to do the two of you?