‘You are. I told old Bob Redford about you, and he’s jealous as hell.’
‘You’re the only one I like.’
‘I know, kid. You’re a real gem that way. Now get out of the tub, it’s time to give it another try.’
‘All right,’ she said.
‘And kid—’
‘Yeah?’
‘Buy a TV, you think too much.’
Chapter 21
Cal Neva
The Cal Neva Top Deck restaurant re-hired her and when they did, she asked to be put on graveyard shift. She was scared to sleep at night in the apartment alone, and the restaurant even at that late hour was half full and the tips decent. The drunks were there, but a security guard and a manager walked the floor and together they made sure the customers stayed in line.
At the end of the first month she had regulars, and the regulars became the first friends she had in town. There was a frail old woman who dressed in western outfits. She wore a scarf around her neck and cowboy boots. Her teeth were either missing or rotten. She was a drunk. Every night at two a.m. she came in, sat in the girls’ section, and ordered the late night Calorie Saver Special: a single hamburger patty, cottage cheese, a half peach in light syrup, and wheat toast. She never ate the hamburger, just had it put in a to-go bag.
‘Saving it for later?’ the girl asked her one night.
‘I have a dog named Cottonball. It’s his only supper.’
‘What about you?’
‘Me?’
‘Is this your only supper?’
‘It is,’ the old woman whispered. ‘How did you know?’
‘Just a guess,’ the girl said. ‘If I give you an extra patty to go, will you eat the one on the plate?’
‘I don’t have the money.’
‘I do,’ the girl said.
The woman nodded, and so the girl began giving her an extra hamburger patty each time she came in, taking it out of her tip money.
A little while later the old lady began leaving drink tokens and old horse racing magazines in return. She left snapshots of the dog, old blank postcards, and even a copy of an old Brenda Lee record after the girl told her she was her favorite singer.
Most nights just after her shift started a middle-aged black man came in alone, sat in her section, and ordered a chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes with vegetables, a side order of bacon, extra gravy, and three biscuits. He always dressed well, in slacks and a sweater or in a suit. He wore thick bifocal glasses. His hair was black and gray and there was a saucer-sized bald spot on the crown of his head. He wore a black leather coat and black leather shoes and sat with a stack of sports papers and marked them with different colored pens he had lined up in a row on the table.
‘So you’re a gambler?’ the girl asked.
‘I try not to look at it as gambling,’ he said and laughed.
‘Do you want me to see if I can get you a pitcher of coffee?’
‘I drink that much?’ he said.
‘It seems like you can drink a lot. Every time I pass by your cup’s empty,’ she said and pointed to the Thermos sitting beside him.
‘Looks like that fella has been stealing it.’
‘It does,’ the girl said and smiled.
‘You caught me,’ he said and put his hands up in the air.
‘Do you stay up all night?’
‘I hate sleeping at night. I’ve always slept from sunrise to eleven a.m.’
‘Give me the Thermos,’ she said and he handed it to her and she filled it to the top with the pot she was carrying. ‘Just don’t tell anyone.’
‘Look it here. In exchange I’m going to give you a sure win on a pick four.’ He took a pen and a Post-it Note and wrote down a series of football team names. ‘This is for Sunday. All you got to do is go to the sports book and tell the man behind the counter “pick four” and then list all the names I gave you as the winners and put a twenty on it, and I swear Christmas will come early.’
He handed the note to her and she put it in her apron.
‘Can I ask you one other question?’
‘You name it,’ he said.
‘How can you eat so much and be so skinny?’
‘This is the only meal I eat a day. Plus my mother was as skinny as a piece of wire.’
‘I hope I’m always like that.’
‘Looks to me like you could eat an entire buffet and come out the other end a bit on the thin side,’ he said and grinned.
The next evening she filled his Thermos and all the nights afterward. The man brought in his wife every Thursday and they sat on the same side of the table. They filled out Keno tickets, drank cocktails, and ate. The wife always tripled the tip and told the girl her husband thought she was a good luck charm.
There was another man, in his late twenties, who was there each morning at five-fifteen, forty-five minutes before her shift ended. He ordered the ninety-nine cent breakfast, eggs different each day, always bacon, always sourdough toast, a glass of water, and coffee with cream. On Fridays he ordered steak and eggs and a tall glass of orange juice.
He sat alone and each morning he wore the same thing: black work shoes and a dark blue uniform with a patch on the left breast that read ‘Dan’. He had brown eyes, short brown hair, and a clean shaven face. He was built thin and was small boned. On his face was a scar that ran from the outside edge of his right eye down to the middle of his cheek. The scar was thin but the color was darker than his flesh. His right eyelid lay lazy over half the eye. She noticed the eye moving, watching her as she delivered his food, and she thought that it must work, at least partially.
It was on a Friday morning that she noticed him earlier, at five a.m. He was reading the newspaper and was dressed in his own clothes. A red flannel shirt and jeans. When he sat down a cocktail waitress passed him and he placed an order.
‘Good morning,’ the girl said and smiled when she came to his table.
‘Hello,’ he said, looked at her, and smiled back.
‘I don’t think I’ve seen you in normal clothes before.’
‘I took the day off. My uncle and me are heading down to San Francisco to watch the horse races at Bay Meadows.’
‘I’ve never been to San Francisco,’ she said. ‘The Golden Gate Bridge, it’s there, right?’
‘Yeah and it’s nice, too. You can walk across it if you want. San Francisco is a good place. It’s got a ton of people, but the buildings are beautiful. Plus they have horse races. I don’t bet well, but I like them all right. Afterwards my uncle and me go to Chinatown or little Italy and eat and then stay the night at a motel in Chinatown, and then we come back in the morning.’
‘Where do you work?’ she asked.
‘The VA Hospital. You haven’t worked here long, have you?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I just moved here.’
‘Where from?’
‘San Diego,’ she said.
‘My uncle, the same one I mentioned, he and I been down there a few times. For car shows and things like that.’
‘They have a lot of things like that.’
‘Seems like it,’ he said.
The cocktail waitress came with a Heineken and a screwdriver. He paid her, tipped her, and the woman walked away.
‘I should take your order,’ she said.
‘I almost forgot,’ he said and took a drink from his beer. ‘I’ll have the steak special and medium on the steak.’
‘Scrambled eggs, sourdough toast, and hash browns?’
‘Yeah. That’s it. I know I’m pretty boring to always eat the same thing. At least today I’m a little different,’ he said, embarrassed.
‘I eat the same thing every morning. It’s good to, I think,’ she said and began to write his order down.
‘Do you like Reno?’ he asked when she finished.
‘What I’ve seen of it, I do. I like the weather. I’m excited for the cold, and to see snow when winter comes. San Diego is always the same. Once in a while it gets cold, but it’s not that
different. I’ve never really been where there’s snow on the ground. I’d like to buy a winter coat and really wear it, you know?’
‘Yeah,’ he said and took another drink off his beer.
‘Okay, we’re all set,’ she said and walked away.
She put his order into the computer, grabbed a fresh pot of coffee, and hit her tables. Then she delivered his food and filled up his coffee once more. By then, though, she had three new tables, and the next time she passed where he had sat, he was gone.
The drinks were empty, but the food was nearly untouched. There was a five dollars tip on the table, and on a bar napkin he’d written, ‘I’ll bet a horse for you,’ in black Keno crayon.
Chapter 22
The Letter From Las Vegas
After her shift she changed in the employee bathroom and walked down to the river and drank a cup of coffee. She had found a pack of Pall Malls on a table that morning, and picked it up and put it in her apron. She took a cigarette from the pack and lit it.
The sun was coming up over the mountains and beginning to lay down upon the city. Every morning for the last three weeks she’d left work and taken a walk. She knew she couldn’t spend too much time alone in her apartment. When she did, her thoughts caught her. But that morning she was too tired to walk and decided to give up and buy a TV.
She finished her coffee and cigarette and headed down Virginia Street until she saw, in the distance, an electronics store. She sat in front of the building until it opened, then went inside and bought a nineteen inch color TV. She had the store call a cab and she waited outside until the taxi came and drove her back to the apartment.
She carried the TV with her to her mailbox. It was on the ground floor, near the manager’s room. Inside it was a bill from the telephone company and a large manila envelope from her mother. She put the mail in her purse, picked up the TV, and carried it up into her room. Once inside, she took it from the box, set it on a chair, and plugged it in.
She found three stations that came in. She undressed, brushed her teeth, and got in bed with the manila envelope. Inside was a note from her mother, a twenty-dollar bill, two snapshots of Evelyn and Junior in Mexico, and a letter. The letter was addressed to her from Jimmy Bodie. Her mother, in her note, wrote that he had been by once a week since she’d left. She said that he looked like a beat-up horse, and that all he did was talk about how much he missed the girl. So she finally broke down and told him to write a letter and if he did, she would include it in a package she was sending.
Allison put the note back in the envelope, and looked at the pictures of Evelyn and Junior. In one of them they were on the beach and it was near sunset and they were both tanned and waving at the camera. The second was of Evelyn standing in front of Junior’s uncle’s van. It was parked alongside a city street in a Mexican town. There were shop signs in Spanish above them, and Evelyn was leaning against the old van wearing a sombrero. She stared at the photographs, and then got up and taped them to the wall next to the bed. She changed the channel on the TV, laid back down, and opened the letter from Jimmy.
Allison,
I don’t know if your mom will even give you this letter, but if she does, you got to let me have your address and phone number. She already let it slip that you lived in Reno. Why the hell would you move up there? There ain’t much to it if I remember right. I have a cousin who lives in Fernley and we used to visit him there and then stay in Reno for a couple days. What a shit hole that place is. But I’ve been meaning to visit him and when I do I’ll come up and visit you, too. Things with me went crazy for a while. I got into a fight with this guy and they threw me in jail and then the guy pressed charges. I had to get a lawyer and it’s all costing me a lot of money, but it should turn out all right. Then I rolled the Cadillac and broke my collar bone. I couldn’t work for a couple months. I just laid there in my apartment and read books and listened to the radio. I saved the Cad’s engine and some parts but all in all it’s ruined. Luckily I was in the boonies and didn’t get a ticket. Warren’s dad came out with a flatbed and we got the Cad on it and then dropped it off at Warren’s work. I picked up another Cad not too long ago and I’m going to rebuild it with the parts from the wrecked one on my days off.
I quit taking speed three weeks ago. I have a few beers but I’m off the other shit for good. It was harder than I thought, but with you leaving and then the car and the trouble with that guy, I figured it was about time.
I’ve decided I really am gonna be moving North. Like I always wanted. Just draw a line and go. A Northline. The farther north, the better. Away from everyone. Away from all the weirdos and freaks and Mexicans and Niggers. From everything like that. I figure the farther North you go, the better it’ll be. A place saner and normal. Simpler. Maybe get a place out in the woods. Maybe Alaska. Away from Vegas anyway. I want you there with me, and I know deep down you want that, too. So give me your phone number. I’ll come up in a couple weeks and we can work things out. I’m sure sorry about everything that happened, but it ain’t right you just leaving either. So it makes us about even in my book so call me. I’m at the same number.
I still want you back, and will see you in a week or so.
I love you
Jimmy
Chapter 23
Doc Holiday’s
She burned the letter in the sink and started crying. She couldn’t stop thinking about him and her lost baby. She started to hyperventilate and her stomach got upset. She tried to lie in bed but she was too nervous. She called the phone company and changed her number in case her mother had given it to him. She knew she should move again, to a different town, but she was worn out and just the thought of it made her anxiety worsen.
After a while, just being in the apartment frightened her so she got dressed and headed downtown. She passed Louis’s Basque Corner and the Last Dollar bar, St Vincent’s thrift store, and the Fireside Liquor Store.
It was just past noon when she walked into Doc Holiday’s. The bar was long and narrow and rundown. There was a jukebox playing. The bartender wore mirrored sunglasses and his hair was cut short, shaved on the side like a military recruit. He wore a long sleeved brown shirt, and his hands were covered in home-made tattoos. The girl sat at the bar and ordered a vodka and 7UP. She paid for it, drank it, and then four more after it. Three hours later two men, both dressed in suits, sat near her. Then they came over to her.
‘My name is Red,’ one of them said. He put his hand out, but she didn’t take it. He was dressed in a blue suit and wore rings on each hand. His hair was red and blown dry with gel. He wore cologne and there was a gold chain hanging from his neck.
‘I work down the street at City Pawn. His dad owns the place.’
‘Hi,’ the other man said. ‘My name is Marty.’ Marty had short brown hair, wore a green suit, and was built thick, stocky. He was overweight and had acne scars all over his face.
‘Hello,’ she said drunkenly.
Red bought them all a round. Tears welled in her eyes. They moved to a booth. She sat in the middle between them. Marty put his hand on her leg and she let him. She sat there between them and didn’t care. She had nothing left.
They led her out to their car and Marty got in the driver’s seat and drove them to a house in a part of town she didn’t recognize. They pulled the car into the garage. They led her into the living room and Marty turned on the stereo and shut the curtains. Red led her to a couch and she sat down while he went to the kitchen for drinks. He came back carrying three bottles of beer and a fifth of Jack Daniels.
Allison took a long drink from the bottle and fumbled for a cigarette.
‘I don’t know what I’m doing here,’ she said barely.
Red sat down next to her on the couch and lit her cigarette. ‘We’re having a party, that’s what we’re doing.’
‘Yeah,’ Marty added.
Red opened a beer and handed it to her. She drank from it and set it on the table.
‘Are you from around here?
’ Marty asked.
‘No.’
‘You new to town?’
She nodded.
‘Where from?’ Red said.
‘Phoenix,’ she said.
‘Phoenix. Jesus, what a mess,’ Marty said.
She nodded.
‘Why you in Reno?’ Red asked.
‘What?’ she said.
‘Why did you come with us?’
‘I don’t even know where I am.’
‘I know why I wanted you to come along. I thought we could all fuck.’
‘Jesus, Red,’ Marty said and laughed.
Allison took another drink off the beer and looked around the room.
‘What about you?’ Red asked.
‘I don’t care what happens,’ she said and tears fell down her face.
Red took a long drink from his beer then set it on the coffee table, moved closer to the girl, and kissed her on the neck. He put his right hand on her leg and slowly went up it. He waited for her refusal, but there was none. Marty walked over and sat on the other side of her and felt her breasts. He clumsily took off her shirt, then her bra. Red took off her shoes, pants, and underwear. They stayed there on the couch and took turns with her until Marty left.
Red then moved her into his bedroom. He got on top of her and went inside her again. He was moving back and forth when she asked him to hit her.
‘What?’ he asked.
She asked him again.
So he hit her. It was with reservation, he was uncertain of doing it, but he did it.
‘Harder,’ she said and slowly he hit her with more force. Sometimes on the arm, then he was slapping her face.
‘Harder, you fucking asshole,’ she cried. But then finally he couldn’t.
Her eyes were closed but tears leaked out. Her face was red from the slaps, and there was a line of blood coming from her nose.
‘Please,’ she said and sobbed.
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ he said and got up off her. He put a sheet over her and left the room. She could hear him in the next room moving around, and then she heard the front door shut and the car in the driveway start and leave. She lay in his room and didn’t move. A lamp was on, and she stared at it. She was too drunk to get up and finally she passed out.
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