Gin and Toxic (Swan Song)

by Cole, Audrey

  He rolls the chair forward, pressing his knees between mine and spreading them as far as my skirt will let them. His hands smooth out over the fabric on my thighs, running up and down slowly. I stare down at him, sure where this is going but unsure how I want to react. He watches me as he continues to move his hands slowly up and down my thighs.

  “You want to know why I keep that ugly woman on my wall?” he asks softly, his voice deep and vibrating.

  His fingers begin to gather the skirt, to pull it up with each movement.

  “Why?” I ask breathily.

  My knees are bare. Then an inch of my thighs. Another inch. Two more. He runs his fingers lightly under my garter then follows it around my leg. His hot hands make their way to my inner thighs, pushing against them to spread me wider.

  “I keep it there,” he says, his right hand moving higher. His fingertips brush across the thin fabric of my underwear and I jerk back slightly in surprise. “So when I’m having an off night,” His finger slips under the hem of my panties. “And I’ve got some ugly dame bent over this desk,” His finger tugs at me, opening me. “I can remind myself it could always be worse.”

  I stare over his head at the painting thinking what a horrible thing that is to do. Those poor women who look at this beautiful man and think his interest makes them beautiful too. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t because Tommy is rotten on the inside. He’s breathtaking on the outside, the poster boy for perfection, but inside he’s something ugly and wrong.

  And what about me? What am I? I’m gorgeous in the mirror but what about what lies beyond that? Below the surface where all the cracks are, where the darkness lies. Where the secrets eat at me like mice on Swiss cheese until maybe someday I’m just a hallow shell like Tommy. Maybe someday I’ll look in the mirror and I won’t see me anymore. I’ll see into me, the way Drew did the night I met him, and I’ll glare at myself and whisper—

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “Am I?” he asks innocently. His finger runs the length of me, from top to bottom, running a line of electricity down my center that I feel all the way into my toes. I breathe in sharply. “I can’t be too disgusting. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” He rubs my wetness across my opening, circling over and over. Around and around. “Or do you like disgusting, Adrian? Do you like ugly?”

  “I don’t think I like you at all.”

  He smirks. “You know what? I think I believe that.”

  His finger slides inside of me slowly. I throw my head back, groaning. I’ve never let it go this far with him and I shouldn’t be doing it now. But I haven’t been touched like this in years. Not since I first arrived here and learned early on that I needed to keep my legs together if I wanted to make it. If I wasn’t looking to be used and abused. That’s a lot of years with a lot of pent up energy. I’m dying to be caressed this way and even though it’s the wrong way with the wrong man, I’ll take that risk.

  Tommy flutters his finger inside of me. My breath catches as my hands grip the edge of the desk, my knuckles going white. When his thumb brushes my nub I shiver everywhere, a low moan escaping my parted lips.

  “But you like what I can do to you, don’t you?” he asks darkly.

  I ignore him. All I can think about is his hand and what it’s doing to me. Of what else it could do. I want this release so badly. It’s different when it’s someone else doing it. It’s better, more exciting. Scarier.

  “Adrian.” he barks at me.

  I snap my head up in surprise. “What?” I bark back.

  “Answer me. Do you like how I make you feel?”

  I stare at him, noticing for the first time how his demeanor changes in moments like this. How different he is when he’s alone with me compared to how he is with his boys. The way his speech shifts, becoming more eloquent. Some part of Tommy is an act. I just don’t know which one.

  “Yes.”

  He nods. “Do you want to feel even better?”

  “Yes.” I whisper.

  “Ask me.”

  “More.” I demand.

  “No,” he says. He withdraws his finger leaving me feeling cold. Empty. “I didn’t say tell me, I said ask me.”

  I glare down at him and I hate the look I see on his face.

  Power. Control. Dominance. This is what it’s always like with him, with all the mobsters. They want control over everything they see and I refuse to play that game. I don’t care how unsatisfied I am. I’d rather have my pride than an orgasm.

  I shove his hand aside and slip off the desk. He leans back looking surprised but amused as I smooth down my skirt and move to step around him.

  “No thanks.” I say lightly.

  “Really? You sure you feel alright?”

  I turn to smile at him, my brighter than the city lights stage smile. “I’m swell.”

  Tommy, still grinning, gives me a salute, pressing his finger lightly to his head. The same finger he just used on me.

  “Have a good show, Adrian. Make sure you stay focused.”

  I slam the door behind me.

  Chapter Three

  As much as I don’t care for the holidays, I’m grateful when Thanksgiving comes around. I need a break from the club. A break from the booze, the bright lights and most of all from Tommy. We went too far the other day. In hind sight, I can’t believe I let him touch me like that. I also can’t believe how badly I want him to do it again. How much farther I’m dying to go with him. If it could not mean anything I’d do it in a heartbeat. If I could scratch that itch without creating insuperable ties to him, I would go to his place and do it tonight. But it wouldn’t be like that for him. It’s not that he’s in love with me, I don’t think Tommy can love, it’s that he’s got his sights set on me. He’s seen a shiny bobble in the store window and he’s decided he’ll have it. He can take his time and save up the money for it. He’s a very patient man. But in the end he will possess it. No if, ands or buts.

  Unlucky for me that I am that bobble.

  It’s been two years of him obsessing over me. Of him desiring me. I’ve been fortunate outlasting him this long but the incident in his office is evidence of one very certain truth; you can’t run from fate. Tommy and I, that’s going to happen. Maybe only once or maybe a million times but it’s a cold, hard fact that it will happen. And I don’t mind the idea of sleeping with him. Hell, I want it. It’s the aftermath I’m worried about. The implication of the act and the hold he’ll have over me then.

  “How are you feelin’, Aid?” Rosaline calls from the kitchen.

  “Better, thanks. No headaches, no dizziness.”

  “You must be on the mend.” Lucy says happily. “I’m glad none of us caught whatever bug you had.”

  Alice snorts. “Speak for yourself! I had a killer headache yesterday. I even threw up.”

  “But you’re better today?” I ask her, frowning. I didn’t know she had felt sick.

  “I feel great now.”

  “Well, I’m happy most of us didn’t get sick.” Lucy says, bumping hips with Rosaline.

  “Are you guys ready to eat?” Rosaline asks.

  “Always!”

  “I’m starved.”

  “Finally!”

  We all pile in around our tiny kitchen table that’s loaded dangerously with mounds of food. Mashed potatoes, a meager turkey that will happily feed us all, gravy, biscuits and some kind of pie that Lucy made. I don’t care what it is, I’ll eat it if she made it.

  “Should we say grace?” Lucy asks, offering her hand to Rosaline and I on either side of her.

  I hear Alice snort again but I ignore her, along with everyone else.

  “Yeah, Luce. You head it up, alright?”

  We bow our heads and close our eyes as Lucy clears her throat.

  “Dear, Heavenly Father, we thank you for the bounty that we are about to receive. May you bless it to our bodies and give us strength. Strength in our bodies and in our spirits. And we ask you to be with those less fortunate than us in this hol
iday season and keep in our hearts and minds the true meaning of Christmas and charity. We ask these things in your name, Oh Lord. Amen.”

  “Amen.” Rosaline and I whisper.

  I look over at Lucy and squeeze her hand before releasing it.

  “That was lovely.” I tell her.

  “It was long.” Alice says curtly. “Pass the potatoes.”

  “So what’s the plan for Christmas?” Rosaline asks, taking a knife to the turkey. “Anyone going home?”

  “I might.” Alice says. “My parents offered to buy me a train ticket back to Boise. I’m thinking about it.”

  I frown at her. “You better decide fast. If you’re not here to be in the chorus line Tommy and I will need to find a replacement.”

  “You have Clara. Can’t she fill in?”

  “What if she’s going home too?”

  Alice shrugs, unconcerned. “It’ll work out.”

  “Let me know.”

  “Sure, mom.”

  I continue to frown at her.

  “What about you, Luce?” Rosaline asks her. “Are you going home?”

  Lucy blushes slightly. “No, I think… I think I might be going somewhere else?”

  I glance at Rosaline who casts me a curious smile.

  “Where might you be going?” I ask.

  “I don’t know.” she says quietly, staring intently at her cranberries.

  “New York.” Alice says, her mouth half full of biscuit. “She’s going to New York to see some fella.”

  Lucy looks up at her sharply. “How did you know that?”

  Alice shrugs. “I read your letter.”

  “You what?!”

  “I read your letter. You left it sitting out on the coffee table. What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is that it’s private.” Lucy cries indignantly.

  Alice rolls her eyes at her, returning to her turkey. “If it’s private don’t leave it lying around.”

  Lucy continues to stare daggers at Alice who remains carefully oblivious.

  “Well, the cat’s out of the bag now, you may as well fill us in.” Rosaline tells Lucy. “Who is he?”

  Lucy flushes again and I watch as a smile creeps onto her thin, pink lips. “He’s just some guy.”

  “Just some guy inviting you to visit him in New York City?” I ask doubtfully. “Is he helping you pay for your train ticket?”

  The smile explodes on her face. “He’s flying me there.”

  “He what?!”

  “He’s a pilot for the Postal Service.” she explains, finally looking at me. When she sees my face her smile fades a bit. “He flies on a route between New York and a couple other places. He’ll be making deliveries this way a few days before Christmas and he offered to fly me back to New York with him to meet his family there.”

  Rosaline is staring at Lucy in amazement. “Meet his family? How long have you known this guy?”

  “A few months now.”

  “And we don’t know about him because…”

  Lucy looks embarrassed. “I wasn’t sure what it really was. He lives in New York, I’m here and we hardly ever see each other. Most of what we say to each other is through letters.”

  “How did you meet him?” I ask.

  Lucy glows at me. “It was back in the early fall when we had those horrible lightning storms. His plane was able to land here but it was too dangerous to take off again. He and his copilot were stuck here for the night so they came into town to get a room in a hotel. They chose some cheap one just a couple blocks from where I work and they ended up coming in to window shop and kill time waiting for the storms to pass. We met, got to talking and they invited me and another shop girl to dinner.” She grins mischievously. “We stayed out most of the night just talking and laughing. Afterward he asked if he could write me and I said yes so that’s what we’ve been doing ever since.”

  “You mean you haven’t seen him since the fall?” Rosaline asks.

  “Once. I saw him once. He let me know a week in advance when he’d be landing and I got the afternoon off to be there. It was only for an hour while the mail was loaded on the plane and they refueled, but it was nice.”

  “Did he kiss you?” Alice asks bluntly.

  “No,” Lucy replies, not looking at her. “We’ve never kissed.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Lucy glares at her again. “What?”

  “Nothing. I just wonder about a fella that doesn’t even try to kiss ya. Maybe he doesn’t like women.”

  “He likes women fine.” Lucy says hotly. “Especially me.”

  “Sure sounds like it.”

  “Do you have a likeness?” I ask, hoping to stave off a war. Lucy and Alice have never gotten along terribly well. In fact, Alice doesn’t especially get along with anyone.

  “I do.” Lucy tells me happily, standing up from her seat.

  She goes into the living room where she pulls a shoebox out from under the couch. It’s dusty and warn with use but when she opens it I can see letters upon letters in neat little envelopes, all in a row. She pulls out a small rectangle and carefully lays it flat in her palm.

  “Here.” she says, showing it only to Rosaline and I.

  In the photo is a likeable looking fellow with light hair and a rounded, baby face. But he’s smiling honestly and there’s something approachable and easy about it. I can see why Lucy likes him.

  “He’s handsome.” I tell her.

  “What’s his name?” Rosaline asks.

  “Robert.”

  “Bob.” Alice mutters.

  Lucy shakes her head. “He hates the name Bob. His family calls him Robby.”

  “What do you call him?” I ask as she takes the picture back to the living room.

  “Rob.” she replies. “He asked me to call him Rob.”

  “And now he wants you to meet his family. In New York City. It must be serious.”

  “Maybe. I guess I’ll have to wait and see.”

  Am I jealous? Absolutely. Of the relationship with likeable Rob I’m not so sure, but of the trip to New York in an airplane, yes. I’m blind with jealousy. I’m boiling over with it to the point where I’m like a teakettle that needs to be taken off the burner before I start to scream bloody murder. But I keep it all inside because Lucy is my friend and I don’t want to sour this for her. She looks so sublimely happy that I can’t imagine taking any of that joy from her, no matter how much I want to claw at my hair and shout to the rafters that it’s not fair. I console myself with the fact that she won’t go to the Cotton Club. Not a chance. And she won’t see Drew. Not that it matters. Not to her. And it shouldn’t matter to me, but it does. It definitely does.

  Drew is like a song I heard being sung one night on someone else’s radio. One I got enough of to know I liked it, liked it a lot and wanted more of it. But the street noise blocked it out, cars whizzing by taking the sound with it, and when everything finally settled down again the song was over. I never got to hear the rest of it and I never got the title or the singer. Odds are I’ll never hear it again and the part that I did get is on permanent repeat in my mind. It’s short, sweet and driving me mad.

  Chapter Four

  “Stop! Stop!” I shout, waving my hands at the stage.

  The men in the orchestra look at me out of the corner of their eyes, their real focus on the end of the chorus line.

  “Whatsa… whatsa matter now?” Alice slurs, waving from side to side like she’s on a boat.

  “Alice, for the love of—How much have you had to drink today?” I demand.

  She shakes her head loosely, her eyes splashing around in their sockets. It’s unlike her to get sloshed like this. She can usually hold her liquor better than the best of us and I honestly don’t remember seeing her drink that much today. I wonder briefly if she’s on something else. If the headaches that have continued to plague me are still bothering her as well.

  “I have… hardly any.”

  The other girls look at me doubtful
ly.

  “Well you’re hammered. Too hammered to work tonight, that’s for sure.”

  “You do—ya don’t know me.” she stutters. She’s staring at the floor now and I wonder if she even hears me.

  “You’re done.” I mutter. I turn to the bar where some of the guys are sitting around smoking and drinking. “Hey, Mickey! Can you take Alice home? She’s toast.”

  Mickey frowns as he snubs out his cigarette and slides off his barstool. “She’s been drinking?”

  “Can’t be that much.” Hal says doubtfully.

  He glances at the bartender who shrugs. It’s a new guy but he seems sound. Honest.

  “Not that I’ve served her.”

  “Alice. Kiddo.” Mickey calls, trying to get her attention. She’s still staring at the floor. “Hey, doll, you want me to take you home?”

  She looks up at Mickey and smiles happily. “Hey, Tommy. You look shorter down there.”

  “Yeah, she’s finished.” he mutters. “Where’s her coat?”

  “Over here.” Elishia says as she hurries toward it. She hands it quickly to Mickey, making sure their hands never touch. I frown at her but she ignores me.

  “Thanks.” he mutters again, not making eye contact with her. “Come on, Alice. You’ve had it for the night.”

  “Okay, To-Tommy. Whatever yasay.”

  “Hal!” I call toward the bar again. “Can you get Clara for me? It looks like we’ll need her tonight.”

  He smirks at me from across the room and I feel like smacking him. “Are you ready to eat crow for her? Cause that’s what she’ll want.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. “She can either come in and work tonight with her mouth zipped shut, or she can look for other permanent employment elsewhere. Her choice.”

  Hal nods, his smirk fading. “I’ll give her a call.”

  “You do that.” I tell him coolly before turning back to the stage. “Alright, everyone, let’s keep going for now. From the top.”

  “Why is Clara back?” Ralph asks late that night in his office.

  I’m sitting here with Tommy and Mickey, watching as they count the take and make marks in a ledger I carefully keep from glancing at.