TWENTY-FIVE
I pace the living room in circles, chain smoking and muttering. Alannah is curled up in a fetal position. We don’t look at each other.
“I knew he was gonna come to the club,” she says in a small voice. “Now he’ll be there every night until I go home with him.”
“We’ve got bouncers.”
“Yeah? How often you see Ronnie walk a girl to her car? ‘Specially now that he hates everyone. I gotta just go home.”
“Alannah, you can’t go home.”
“I told you! What did I tell you about Blue Eyes? Ma, I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”
“Yeah?” I raise my eyes. “Well, I’m in it.”
“So now what do we do?”
I sigh. “We are going to need a bodyguard of our own. Someone we don’t have to pay.”
She sits up, and grabs a blanket. “Yeah, mama, I bet they’re just linin’ up around the block.”
“I’ve got one,” I mumble. “Not the situation I’d have picked, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I’m calling Barry, and I’m gonna tell him to come home.”
“Your old man? Didn’t you say he’s the same?”
“No, actually, you were right. Yours is far worse.”
“Congratulations to me,” she mutters.
“Are you actually married to Blue Eyes?”
“Are you insane?”
“He said you were his wife.”
“We’re not married.”
“Whatever. Look, Barry’s rough around the edges, but deep down he’s decent. He will take your back. And he can probably talk to Blue Eyes.”
“No one can talk to Blue Eyes.”
“Barry’s got people still in the Kings,” I tell her. “He’s an old veteran. He grew up around your way. The Puerto Ricans adopted Barry before Blue Eyes was potty trained – shit, scratch that, probably before he was born.”
“You trust him?” Alannah wants to know.
“Yeah, I do. He’s dirty, he’s crazy, and he’s a leech. But I know him a long time, and I know what he won’t do.” I fold my arms over my chest. “So now you’re gonna have to trust me.”
She stares at me. Do I see a flicker of animosity cross her face? Am I imagining this?
I don’t want to ask Barry to come back. I don’t miss him. I was thrilled at the prospect of being rid of him. It was hard to accomplish, and now I’m going to have to work double time eating words I know I had every right to say in the first place. But what choice do we have? I don’t know how far Blue Eyes will go, and I have no desire to find out.
“We don’t have a choice,” I say. “Barry can meet us after work later.”
“You really wanna do that?”
“How’d you sleep last night?” I ask her.
She doesn’t say anything. I pick up the phone. It rings twice before the man himself answers it.
“Baby,” I say.
I hear him laugh hysterically on the other end before he hangs up on me.
I dial again. Alannah looks at me quizzically. I roll my eyes.
“You tell me one good reason I ought to talk to you,” he answers the phone this time.
“Cause we’re in some serious trouble, Barry,” I say flatly.
“Hold it. Who’s this ‘we’?”
“Me and Alannah. I had to take her in, and her crazy boyfriend came looking for us both last night after work.”
“Who the fuck is Alannah? You had to take her in. Why? Because you threw me out and you got lonely?”
“Barry, this isn’t about you and me. Please. This guy is really dangerous. I need you to meet us after work tonight. And get there early, before he does. We’re gonna talk to Tim and see if he’ll let us out tonight early enough to dodge the bastard.”
“Angel, when you say he’s dangerous, what kind of dangerous do you mean?”
I look over at Alannah, who is watching me intently.
“I have to tell him,” I say to her.
“What? Tell me what? How dangerous?”
I take a deep breath.
“He runs for the Kings.”
There is silence on the line.
“Barry?”
More silence.
“Barry, you there?”
“I’ll see you at three A.M.,” Barry grunts. “And we’re gonna have a good little chat about everything when I do. You hear me?”
“Thank you, baby,” I say.
He hangs up.
I will say this for Barry: he’s a man of his word. He’s standing outside the club at three A.M., wearing a knapsack and talking to Vasquez. He stops short when he sees us, shakes Vasquez’s hand, and nods at Alannah. The three of us head toward the parking garage without saying a word to each other.
Barry lights up a cigarette right away, his legs sprawled open in the back of my tiny car. Alannah is riding shotgun, and she wrinkles her nose.
“Could you roll down the window, please?” I ask him. He grunts and cracks it about half a centimeter.
I sigh. “More?”
“Here we go again,” Barry says, apropos of nothing. He cracks the window about another inch, and continues smoking. He’s dragging on that cigarette so hard that he’s steaming it. I can smell the sickly burn of the paper from where I’m sitting.
Everyone’s quiet on the way home. The “little chat” that Barry was so adamant about this afternoon doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen. Barry and Alannah are sullenly sizing each other up. My head begins to hurt. I decide to forgo food this time and drive us straight home. We can deal with the specifics after we all get some sleep.
Back in the apartment, Alannah goes to make up her bed in the living room, and that’s when it really registers that there is nowhere for Barry to sleep. Except in the bed with me.
“Come on,” I tell him, grimacing.
We go to lie down, leaving Alannah to her privacy. I wish that I had a cot at least. I undress with my back to him, and then I switch off the light.
The minutes tick by. I’m trying to fall asleep, but I’m aware that next to me, Barry is still very much awake. Finally, I roll over and look at him.
“She’s really damaged,” I say matter-of-factly.
“So what?” he wants to know.
“You came back to help us, didn’t you?”
“No. I came back because you got yourself into more stupid shit that you can’t get out of without me. As usual.”
I suck on my teeth. “Are you going to help me protect this girl or not?”
“Long as she’s with you, that’s my job, isn’t it? She’s cute, by the way. She looks a little like the last pretty boy you left me for, don’t you think? The one with the long hair?”
“No, not really.”
“Uh huh. She’s definitely your type, though. A little skinny. A little drawn. But definitely your type.”
“She’s straight, Barry.”
“When has that ever mattered to you?” he wants to know.
“Yeah, look at me, I’m Superdyke,” I retort.
“Oh, no, angel doll. You ain’t no dyke. You’ll fuck anything that walks, though. And you want to go down on this bitch, so you had her move in.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Am I?”
“Just because it’s something you would do doesn’t mean that’s why I’m doing it,” I hiss.
“Didn’t even miss me this time, didja?”
I purse my lips. “Barry, what do you want me to say?”
“I don’t give a fuck what you say,” he snarls. “It’s all bullshit, anyway.”
“Oh, yeah, right! Says the master of bullshit!” I can’t believe I’m already allowing myself to be drawn into this.
Barry sits up, and starts to put on his shoes.
“Oh, no… don’t do that. Shit, Barry, I don’t want her to hear us fighting.”
He looks at me. “We’re not fighting, baby. I’m leaving.”
“Oh, that is so fucking typical!”
He stands up.
“No wait, Barry, hold on,” I plead.
This is humiliating but necessary. So I stand up too, and I wrap my arms around him.
“I love you, and I need you,” I tell him, trying to make sure the words don’t catch in my throat. For all I know, a part of me means them. “Please stay.”
“Why?” Barry wants to know. “So you can just throw me out again as soon as she leaves?”
“No… look, I made a mistake, okay?” I grab his hand and I pull him down on the bed.
He snorts, but he lets me tackle him.
“Baby, I missed you,” I lie. “A lot.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Barry grabs the back of my head and pulls my face towards his. He shoves his tongue into my mouth so fast I don’t have time to fend him off. He tastes vile. He smells worse. I try not to breathe. I force myself to kiss him back.
The last time I let Barry kiss me was sometime last year, and I was too drunk to notice the way he tasted, because I probably tasted just as bad. In the past nine months, we may have had sex four times. And I never kissed him open-mouthed when we did. I spent those sessions lying mutely under him, my head over his shoulder, desperately fantasizing about anyone or anything else that popped into my head.
I can count the times we’ve ever deep-kissed, in fact, on the fingers of one hand for the entire time I’ve known him. The whole toothless thing really bothers me. He has told me that I’m shallow because it’s so difficult for me to ignore. Those are usually the times when he calls me “Princess.” Guilt is something he’s good at. Even when I know that he’s wrong.
Now he’s yanking off my pants. I steel myself for pain, knowing that I’m not the slightest bit turned on.
He puts his face between my legs, moving his tongue around rapidly in a way that doesn’t feel good at all. The only moisture down there is his saliva. How can he be as old and experienced as he is, and still be so lousy in the sack? I moan and pretend to like it. I want this to be over quickly.
I pull him up towards me, and I rest my head on his shoulder so that I don’t have to smell his breath. I have no idea when he last showered. At least he doesn’t smell any dirtier than usual.
He shoves into me. Roughly, because he’s not totally hard. This is no easy feat since I’m still bone dry. A few more thrusts, though, and I can take him without too much pain. I try to move quickly underneath him.
“What’s the rush, child?” he wants to know.
“Ssshh, baby. I’m just enjoying you,” I whisper, pulling his head back down over my shoulder again. I try to grind on him, hoping that it will dampen me up. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough this time to get a nice clear picture in my head of somebody else.
And soon, I’ve got a montage going. I blot him out. Images of various pinup girls are running through my head in loops. I start to move on Barry for real, and by rote, I actually do have a very small orgasm. I moan much louder than is called for and I whisper his name. The orgasm only lasts about a half second, but I rock my hips urgently, trying to get him to go off, too. Eventually my insides are numb. And he still hasn’t finished.
He stops and pulls out.
“I don’t need to come,” he announces. “I just wanted to get you off.”
I hope he doesn’t notice that I’m shuddering with disgust. I curl up with my back to him.
“Love you,” Barry whispers, kissing my neck.
It’s almost funny.
I’ve never felt this much like a whore while I’ve been in the club.
I push away the thought and try to fall asleep.
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February 24th, 2009 at 4:20 pm
WOW. So raw.
I love it.
February 24th, 2009 at 4:46 pm
I aim to please.
February 24th, 2009 at 5:26 pm
You tell it like it is Lauri – it gets better and better. When this is published it’s going to be a cult classic.