Tats

by Layce Gardner

  She turns and whacks me upside the head with her shoe.

  “What the hell?!” I yell, jerking awake. Suddenly and painfully awake now, I shout, “Where’d that shoe come from?!”

  I shake the remnants of the dream from my head. I’m lying on the floor and Vivian sits cross-legged on her bed, fully dressed and looking way too innocent.

  “Why the sam hell did you hit me?” I demand.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says in a really stupid, innocent voice.

  I pick up the shoe lying next to me and point the evidence at her. “You do too. You clobbered me in the head with this damn shoe.”

  She snatches the shoe from my hand. “Did not,” she replies.

  “Listen,” I say. “I was having a great dream. I’m going to finish it now if you can refrain from hitting me.” I lie back down and close my eyes.

  “That was for Joey.”

  I open my eyes. “What?”

  “That was for fucking Joey Hanes behind my back. Now we’re even,” she says simply.

  “No we’re not,” I say, leaning up on one elbow and grinning. “Twice. I actually did him twice.”

  “What?!”

  “Yeah, twice,” I say, rubbing it in. “A couple of weeks later he saw me hitchhiking into town. He picked me up and we drove down to the river, smoked a joint and did it for hours. This time it was fantastic.”

  “You bitch!” she yells. She throws the shoe at me so fast, it hits me in the forehead before I can even duck.

  “Dammit,” I mutter, rubbing the dent in my forehead. “We’re even, okay. Truce?”

  “Maybe,” she says. “If you can tell me what the hell happened last night.”

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “Something must’ve happened. I woke up shitting cupcakes and my toenails are painted different colors,” she says, sticking one of her feet in my face.

  “Pretty.”

  “I don’t remember doing it. I must’ve been real fucked up to paint them all a different color. That’s just not like me.”

  “Well, it is unique. I kinda like it. Don’t you?”

  “I guess,” she says, sitting down and examining her feet. “It is kinda pretty in a weird kinda way. But that doesn’t explain the cupcakes in my panties.”

  I’m saved by a knock at the door.

  Vivian looks at me.

  I shrug.

  The next knock is louder. More insistent.

  I open my mouth to ask who’s there, but Vivian shushes me with her finger. She tippy-toes out of the room and up to the main door, looks through the peephole and goes into panic mode. She hops up and down and motions wildly with her arms.

  “What?” I ask.

  She shushes me with her finger and mouths without sound, “Black dick.”

  “Black dick?” I say a tiny bit louder than her.

  Pounding on the door.

  Vivian shakes her head furiously and mouths again, “Black dick.”

  “Black dick?” I ask again, thoroughly confused.

  A deep, husky voice calls out in that girlie accent, “Vivian! Open the door. I know you are in there and I am not pleased.”

  “Fer Chrissakes!” she sputters. “Pack quick! Pack quick!” And she runs back to her bedroom.

  “I don’t have anything to pack,” I protest, slipping on my boots and jacket as quickly as possible. At least I have my fucking pants on this time.

  I follow Vivian into her room. She has both bags of money in her arms and the red bag slung over one arm. She opens the sliding glass doors with her shoulder and runs out onto the balcony. She leans way over the rail, looking down somewhere below.

  “We have to do it,” she says. “It’s the only way out.”

  “Maybe we can just talk to him. Let him have the money back or something.”

  “He will kill you,” Vivian over-enunciates. “He will kill you dead. You understand?”

  “I understand. Kill. Dead.”

  Vivian tosses the bags over the balcony rail.

  “What’re you doing?!” I yell.

  I look over the railing. The bags are laying on the tiled floor of the balcony directly under us.

  Vivian grabs my arm and looks at me earnestly. “You go next,” she says.

  “Like hell,” I respond.

  “Dead, Lee. But he’ll torture you first.”

  “I’m scared of heights, Viv, there’s no way—”

  The front door crashes open.

  “Vivian!” Prince Charles shouts.

  Vivian and I both jump ass-first over the balcony. We hang by the top rail with both hands. Hanging in midair, Vivian and I look wide-eyed at each other. Then I look down to the ground, ten stories below, and almost shit cupcakes myself.

  “Don’t look down, Lee, just look at me. Do what I do,” Vivian whispers.

  A voice from within our suite calls out, “She’s not in here! Check the loo!”

  Using her legs, Vivian rocks back and forth, like how kids on a swingset do. She swings higher and longer and I follow her example.

  “On the count of three,” Vivian says. “One, two, three!”

  We let go and somehow, someway, we end up on the balcony below with nothing but a few bruises for tomorrow.

  Vivian hops up and throws one of the bags at me. Cradling the other bag, she opens the sliding glass door and we run into the bedroom. We both stop when we see a man and woman in flagrante in the middle of their bed. They both turn their heads and look at us over their shoulders.

  “Never mind us...just playing through,” I say.

  Vivian and I dash out of the room, into the hotel’s hallway, and into the nearest elevator.

  We stand in silence for a moment, the sound of Beatles muzak and our own heavy breathing in our ears. I watch the elevator floor numbers tick downward. Without looking at Vivian, I utter, “Black dick.”

  She giggles. I look at her and giggle, too. We break into loud guffaws.

  The elevator dings and its doors slide open. Stifling our laughter, we run through the hotel lobby and out the front doors.

  We stop and scan the rows and rows of cars in the parking lot. I see a flash of green and point. We haul ass across the lot and jump in the car. Vivian finds the key between her boobs, sticks it in the ignition and peels out of the lot, leaving yards of burnt rubber in our wake.

  I turn and look through the rear window. I see Prince Charles, staring after us. He clenches and unclenches his fists, watching us leave. Two goons appear beside him. Their skin is pale and sickly looking, but their bulging muscles imply a great deal of health.

  Vivian drives without direction, never even touching the brakes. After about five minutes of weaving in and out of traffic, and getting lost in general, I chance a conversation, “Hey, Viv, I have a good idea. Kinda simple, but I think it might work. GIVE HIM BACK THE MONEY! That way maybe we won’t both die!”

  “Oh, he’ll kill us anyway. He’ll take the money and kill us too. The Mafia doesn’t leave loose ends.”

  Mafia? Fucking British fucking Mafia? That’s a little piece of information I could’ve found useful about twenty-four fucking hours ago.

  “Fuck me,” I say, slipping way down in the seat. “Fuck. Me.”

  Vivian drives like a normal person now and makes turn after turn like she knows where she’s going. I keep my feet braced on the dash just in case she cuts loose again. She pulls a cigarette from out of her bra and flicks her fingers for me to light it for her. I push in the cigarette lighter on the dash. That’s a good thing about these old cars, they came with cigarette lighters back when. I hold out two fingers to her in a peace sign and she gets another cigarette out for me. What’s another cigarette going to hurt if I’m going to die soon anyway? When I stick it in my mouth I can smell her all over it. Another good reason to start smoking.

  We share the lighter between us and both inhale deep, holding the smoke in our lungs for a long time like it’s not just tobacco.

 
“Charlie saw this car. We’re gonna have to dump it.” Vivian exhales. “Find us another. Preferably a Mercedes. Black. Blend in, you know.”

  “You could always just get me a Harley. Like you promised. If I’m going to die, then I want to go out on a Harley.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad. You’re not going to die and you’ll get your damn motorcycle.” She slows and turns on the right blinker.

  “You remember Mark from high school?” Vivian asks.

  “Which Mark?”

  “Mark Thompson, the cute baseball player. I went to the prom with him.”

  “What about him?”

  “He is now the proud owner of a car dealership.”

  Vivian swerves into a used car parking lot, and sure enough there’s a big gaudy sign looming over us that reads: Mark’s Pre-Owned Vehicles.

  “Start picking out your next car, darlin’. Mark’s always had a thing for me ever since senior prom. He’ll give me whatever I want.”

  “Nonononono, not here,” I say. “Let’s go somewhere else. Another lot.”

  “I just have to flirt with him some. Saw him a few years back and he kept hinting for a blow job. This is going to be so easy. Our new Mercedes will give itself to us.” She turns off the engine and sticks the key back down her cleavage.

  “Please,” I plead, “can’t we just go somewhere else?”

  “Why? You know a better way to get a car?”

  “Pay for it?”

  “Why the hell would I pay good money for a car? I’ve never had to pay for a car in my life.” She adds under her breath, “Not with money anyway.”

  “Go do what you have to do then. I’ll sit here. I don’t wanna see this guy.”

  “Why? What’s between you and him?”

  “Nothing.”

  Vivian turns sideways in the seat and stabs me with her stare. “Spit it out. What’s the history?”

  I shrug in what I consider to be a very innocent manner and stub out my cigarette in the ashtray. “No history. I just don’t want to see him at this particular moment in time is all.”

  “You’re such a god-awful liar.” She pooches out her bottom lip and puts her hand on my knee. “You can tell me.”

  “I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” I say, picking up her hand and dropping it back into her own lap.

  “You’re not going to hurt my feelings. I promise. The past is the past is the past is the past. Tell me.”

  Vivian’s like a dog with a bone, she’s not going to ever give it up. I swallow a deep breath and say, “...Senior prom...”

  “Senior prom...?” she urges.

  “He left in the middle of prom. I didn’t know he was there with you. And we snuck off together.”

  Vivian’s jaw muscles tighten and flex. To the untrained observer, she’s not a bad actress, but I can see the storm brewing behind her purple eyes.

  “And?” she asks with just a little too much casualness.

  “And...” I just spit it out and hope for the best. “...We broke into the basement of the First Baptist Church. And didn’t come out till morning.”

  Uh-oh. This is going to be bad. She’s way too quiet. Then the dam breaks. She pounds the steering wheel with her fists. “You fucked my prom date?! In a church!?!”

  “You said you wouldn’t get mad.”

  “I said I wouldn’t get my feelings hurt! I didn’t say shit about mad!”

  I am totally expecting her to whale on me, but at least she has the presence of mind to jump out of the car. She slams the door way too hard and the little Pinto rocks from the aftershock. She paces. Screams and paces and kicks the tires. “I can’t fucking believe this! I’m the cheerleader! I’m the one everybody’s supposed to want! Not you! They’re supposed to want me!” She hits the hood with her fist and stomps around toward my side of the car.

  I roll up my window and lock the door.

  “First you fuck Joey! Now you fuck my prom date?!” she screams through the glass.

  I roll down my window a crack. “If it helps any...we didn’t... do that,” I offer.

  Vivian stops cold, squints one eye at me and asks breathlessly, “What exactly did you do?”

  “He went down on me.”

  “Shit!” she screams, slapping her palms on my window. “You bitch!”

  I roll the window back up just in time and cover my face in case she shatters the glass. I deserve that last one. That was definitely poking the snake, but I just can’t seem to stop from poking it again. I inch the window back down one more time.

  “Um...Viv. Calm down. It’s not like it was very good anyway.”

  Her eyes turn icy cold and she freezes.

  I continue, “I finally figured out he was just writing the alphabet with his tongue. I told him it’d work a lot better if he just stuck to ‘o’ or ‘l’. I mean he must’ve been down there for half the night before—”

  “You goddamn gloating bitch!” she screams.

  I get the window back up and cover my face. I chance a peek through my fingers and see a man walking this way. Shit, that’s Mark. That’s cute little baseball champion Mark in a brown polyester three-piece suit and tie. He still walks like he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. Except for a little bit of a paunch starting and some gray around the edges, he looks pretty much the same.

  Vivian follows my gaze and when she sees Mark, she does an abrupt about-face. Miraculously, she’s all girlie and charming and dripping sex.

  Mark starts in with his latest sales pitch, “Anything you’d like to drive today?” Then he recognizes Vivian and smiles even bigger. “Vivian! Long time no see. Damn girl, you look good!”

  “You bet your sweet ass I look good,” Vivian oozes. “You’re looking pretty good yourself, Mark. You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

  She slips right into his personal space and runs her fingers up and down his tie. Mark’s eyes stay glued to her bazooms.

  “Not me,” he says directly to her tits. “I never hold grudges.”

  “I was just telling Lee that you and I had a little unfinished business,” Vivian says while toying with his belt buckle.

  “Lee?” he asks, and his eyes flicker to me inside the car.

  I wiggle my fingers at him and offer up a half-smile that I hope looks genuine.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. I haven’t seen her since prom,” he says.

  Vivian yanks his tie like he’s a dog on a leash. “I was hoping maybe we could work out a deal. For a Mercedes, maybe?”

  “Yeah, a deal, sure. Why isn’t she getting out of the car?” he asks.

  “She’s shy,” Vivian says, tugging harder on his buckle.

  “She’s not shy that I remember.”

  Vivian gives up, puts her fists on her hips and says, “Christ... Lee, get out of the damn car.”

  I crawl out of the Pinto and hook my thumbs into my belt loops. “Hey ya, Mark.”

  “Whewww.” He whistles under his breath. “I like the look, Lee, I like the new look.”

  “Well, you haven’t seen me since...for a long time, you know.”

  “You still look good,” he drools.

  I don’t get it. What it is with me and men? I do my damnedest to get them to go away. I wear their clothes, I’m a good head taller than most and I could kick the shit outta most, but that just seems to keep ’em coming.

  “Not as good as Viv,” I say, deflecting his attention.

  Mark moves up close to me, too close, maybe just a dick’s length away. “I heard a rumor about you,” he says. “They say you got sent up. Any truth to that?”

  “Maybe.” I take a small step back.

  Vivian interrupts, “Let’s talk deals, Mark.”

  “Hold on a minute, Viv. Maybe Lee here wants to deal a little. What d’ya think? You wanna deal? For old times sake?”

  I give him a little push in the chest with one finger, “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Mark.”

  “Am I now? I heard other rumors, too. They mus
t be true.”

  “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” I retort.

  He looks at me. Then Vivian. Back and forth a couple of times. “Oh, I get it. I get it. Prison changed you, huh? You two are queer together.”

  I start to tell him no, but I catch Vivian out of the corner of my eye, giving me the slashing the throat signal.

  “That’s right, Mark. We’re together,” Vivian interjects, slinking up next to me and looping her arm around my waist. “Can you blame us?”

  He rubs the palms of his hands together and says, excitedly, “Now, we’re getting somewhere. I think maybe I do have a deal for the two of you.”

  Vivian’s fingers are now playing with my belt buckle. I start to panic just a little bit. What the hell is happening here?

  Vivian purrs, “What’d you have in mind?”

  Mark wiggles his eyebrows at us. “How ’bout a show, huh? Starring the two of you. I’ll just watch, I promise. Like a good boy.”

  I’m going to faint or something. This can’t be happening.

  “We love an audience,” Vivian says. “But we want a nice car. A really nice car.”

  “Let’s go to my office.”

  He leads the way, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Vivian starts to follow, but I grab her arm and yank her back. “What the hell are you doing?” I hiss.

  “Giving him what he wants.”

  “We are not, I repeat NOT, going to have sex while that man watches.”

  Vivian laughs. “Not for real, silly. We’ll act.”

  “How in the hell do you act like you’re having sex?”

  “Good God, you’d think you’d never done this before.”

  “I haven’t!”

  “Just follow my lead. And don’t forget... You want a Harley, then you’re going to do it and you’re going to like it,” she demands.

  Like I’ve never heard that before.

  Good God, I’m stuck in the middle of a porn movie set. This office is disgusting. Cobwebs, dust, clutter, dank and musty, and the smell of old testosterone.

  Vivian works this scenario like the pro she is. She pushes Mark backward until he stumbles into a chair in the corner.