Doll Face (Baby Doll #3)

by Heidi Acosta

  “It’s horrible.”

  “Look, I don’t come up with this stuff. Blame it on the movies, they always put an egg in the juice for a hangover.”

  “I thought you said it was your grandma’s recipe.”

  “I lied. Granny’s God-fearing soul never touched what she liked to call the devil’s juice. Do you think this color looks good on me?” Kiki wiggles his toes, which are painted neon orange, in the air.

  “Yes. Do use all a favor and stay out of the kitchen.” I place the glass of the horrible stuff on the side table next to the bed.

  “Sooo, when are you going to see Mr. Cute Ass in a tight pair of ripped jeans?” Kiki rolls to his stomach and props up on his elbows.

  “I’m not,” I reply, sitting back.

  “You’re kidding me. Why? He is the best thing to happen to you since you got your braces off and discovered Clearasil.” He says. I ignore his poke, and attempt to be the better person and not point out that he was in the same boat as me in middle school.

  “He is cute, but definitely not my type,” I say, hoping the heat that is crawling down my neck doesn’t give me away to exactly what I think of him.

  Kiki raises a perfectly manicured brow at me. “That boy is everybody’s type, even if your uptight, straight ass, gay hating grandpa.”

  “You don’t even know my grandfather.”

  “Katie!”

  “Okay, he is freaking hot. One of the sexiest guys I have ever seen! Happy? But boys like him are trouble. We come from two different worlds, so it’s better that I don’t encourage something that will never work out.” Not to mention I couldn’t imagine getting someone caught up in the mess that is now my life.

  “You’re a snob; you know that, right?”

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t matter anyway. I need to focus on getting my life back on track.” I stand up, taking the sheet with me.

  Kiki flops down face first. “Do you think he sat on the bed? I think I can smell him. God that man smelled good. Katie, you are an idiot.”

  “No, I would be an idiot if I took your advice on Adam Nash.”

  Kiki groans, “God, even his name turns me on.” I leave Kiki to sniff out the smell of Adam, and take a shower. When I’m done, I fix my hair and makeup so that it looks perfect, and iron my khaki skirt and a white button-up shirt. I look one last time in the mirror. Perfect.

  Paul and Kiki are sitting on the back porch sharing a cup of coffee and a muffin next to the dead plant. Kiki feeds Paul a piece, and when he sees me Paul’s cheeks go bright red.

  “Good morning, Katie. Kiki said that you are off to get things back on track. Good for you. Can I give you a ride anywhere?” Paul asks.

  “No, but thank you. I think I will walk, the fresh air should do me some good.” And chase the lingering liquor away.

  Kiki wiggles his fingers in a good-bye to me as I leave.

  The first thing on my agenda today is to get my car back…somehow. Then I’m going to find a job to pay for school. I will show my parents I don’t need them or anyone else. I wonder how Rylee is handling this. I haven’t talked to my sister in months. I would have thought she would have at least called me by now to see how her little sister is doing, but of course, that is Rylee—she would only call me if she needed something. I could call her, but I swore I would stop enabling her. Besides, she is my older sister she should be the one to call me.

  I push Rylee from my mind as I enter the bad part of town. Tightening my grip on my purse, I march the last few blocks to the tow yard. The air seems to change as I cross over the railroad tracks; it has me regretting not taking the ride from Paul. This area is Phenix City’s dirty little secret. Everyone knows it exists, but most pretend that it’s not there. It’s easier to sweep the unpleasant under the carpet. Like swindling money from your clients, or having affair after affair and leaving your daughter to go to Florida, or a sister that is bipolar, or barely holding it together and feeling that at any moment I might break apart. Yes, it’s much easier to sweep secrets under the rug. Unfortunately, they always seem to find a way to seep out into the open so the world can see them.

  I pass by old trailers and decrepit houses, finally reaching the tow yard. It’s even creepier than I imagined it to be. A chain-link fence topped with barbed wire skirts the property inside sits an ornament of cars on display. Some are in total despair, weeds growing out of their hoods that are open; others are smashed beyond recognition, leaning against the fence. And amongst the wreckage I see her, my beautiful baby, my graduation present. She doesn’t belong here … like me. I cringe at her broken window. “Momma’s sorry,” I whisper to her. As soon as I get her out I’m going to get those windows fixed; then I’ll take her to the first car wash and clean this place off of her.

  I have to push a button to buzz someone inside a gray box trailer. “Can I help ya’?” a lady with a thick southern accent comes through the static.

  “Yes, I’m here to get my car back, the Mercedes,” I answer.

  “All right, someone will be right out to let ya in.”

  I shift my purse to the other shoulder; sweat causes to the fabric of my shirt to stick to my skin. I hope my hair is not frizzy. A few minutes later a heavy set man hobbles out of the trailer. Oh God, you’ve got to be kidding me, right? This is like a bad dream and it just keeps getting worse. The Oakley fumbles with the keys, trying to open the padlock that keeps us separated. “Is there a high crime rate on this street?” I ask sarcastically.

  “Na, any vandalism done in these parts are probably done by my boys, but insurance says I must have this place secure.” He chuckles. I look over my sunglasses at the man in front of me. He has a short buzzed haircut that looks like someone blindly swiped at it with clippers. His beard, which rivals all beards, touches the top of his jumpsuit, brushing against his name tag that is stitched next to a large grease stain —reads Victor. Charming.

  “You must be so proud,” I say with a sarcastic tone.

  He shrugs, not caring that his sons are a band of hooligans. “Right this way. We’ll get the paperwork done and get you out of here.” Great! I want nothing more than to be out of this place.

  The inside of the trailer is not any better than the outside. Victor walks behind a counter covered with stacks of paper. It smells horrible in here, too; something between oil and old food? “Now let me just try to find your paperwork,” he says, lifting up the computer mouse and shaking it like that will bring the computer to life. Urrrgh. “My secretary, Paula, usually takes care if this, but she just went to lunch, and I’m not used to using this thing.” He puts the mouse down and begins to push the button rapidly. I cringe at his obvious lack of technology or a good dry cleaner. All I want to do is get my car and get the hell out of here. “If you want to wait a few moments I’m sure Paula will be back soon; she just went over to the main house.” He offers seeing that he is in no way going to even turn on the computer.

  “I really need to get going. Do you mind if I help you turn on the computer?” I ask desperately.

  He furrows his eyebrows and looks at me questioningly. “You think you know how?”

  I snort. “Yeah, seeing as it’s a common PC I think I got it.” Stepping around the counter, I brush crumbs off a seat and sit down.

  “I told Paula that getting this thing would be a bad idea, but the woman insisted that I had to step into the 21st century. Well, a lot of good it’s doing me if the customer has to find their own damn paperwork. I think that woman just wants me to be dependent on her,” he grumbles as the computer boots up. The program is fairly simple, and I’m able to find my paperwork easy, but when it pulls up, and I see the number that pops up along with it, I feel like I can’t breathe. Leaning back, I grip onto the hard plastic chair. The feeling of sliding off the world hits me again, but this time, I feel like I’m being shoved with every force the universe has to give.

  Victor lets out a whistle as he reads over my shoulder. “It looks like the bank is asking for the full amou
nt of the car since it’s now their property.”

  How? How? How could my father do this? What was he thinking? My mouth goes dry, and acid raises in my stomach.

  “Do you have a bathroom I could use?” I choke out around last night’s tequila remnants, which is trying to force its way back up. Victor nods and points to a small door. I race inside, slamming the door shut, and throw up. After all the acid is out of my stomach, I flush the toilet and lean against the wall. How am I going to get my life back together when it’s completely shattered? Forget about the car for a moment, what about school? It’s too late to apply for scholarships or loans, and even if I get some for next semester to cover part of tuition, there is no way I will be able to find the rest of the money. And what about a place to live? Paul already is worried about me ruining his sheets, me staying with them isn’t going to last forever. A knock on the door cuts through my panic attack.

  “Are you okay in there, miss?” Victor asks.

  “Yes, just a moment.” My voice comes out shaky. I grip the sink and repeat over and over that I can do this. Get it together Katie. I will figure my way out of this heap of shit that keeps growing. I suck air through my nose.

  “Okay. Well, I have something you might want to see when you’re done.” Victor says behind the door. Oh God, what does he want to show me? Probably his room where he keeps innocent girls chained up. I rinse my mouth out and splash water on my face before I open the door.

  Victor is standing by a back door. “Just out here,” he says. I tighten my grip on my purse and brace myself to run for it if I need to.

  “Look,” he begins, rubbing his fuzzy head with a dirty hand, “my kid is about your age, and I know what it’s like to be down in the dumps and needing a hand. Seeing what happened with your daddy and all, I thought I could give you one.” My head spins. Of course, he knows what happened to my father, damn this small ass town. “Now, I’m not saying that I’m just going to give it to you, you will have to pay for her. Seeing as I’m not very good with technology, and Paula could use some help, I figured you could have it paid off in about two months.”

  I shake my head, not sure what he is saying. We stop at a white car. “She might not be much to look at, but she runs great.” He pats the roof.

  “I’m not sure I’m following,” I mutter as the knot in my stomach tightens.

  “You can drive her out of here today. Can you start work this Tuesday?”

  “You’re kidding me?” I look over at the dented Neon in disgust as what he is saying now is starting to make sense.

  “Nope,” he replies, leaning back on his heels. “It’s either this or the hearse.” He points over his shoulder and I shudder. Fitting that, I should ride in a hearse. After all, my life as I know it is over.

  “What is it? No stop, I can’t, it’s hurting my eyes. Katie, quick take it back before someone see us.”

  I roll my eyes at Kiki’s flare for dramatics and sit inside my new car. “It’s not that bad if you can overlook the fading clear coat and the gaping hole in the passenger seat.”

  “You can’t be serious.” He fans himself as if he might faint.

  “Well, I’m proud of you, Katie.” Paul comes and stands next to me.

  “Thanks, Paul.” I grin up at him.

  “Can I?”

  “Be my guest.” I open the door and Paul slides in.

  “Quick, get out of that garbage can on wheels, babe. Katie …” Kiki waves to their elderly neighbor who is walking her dog. “Oh hey, Mrs. Brown. No worries, we are calling the tow company right now to come get these heap-o-crap out of here.”

  “Do you know this is the first thing that I got on my own?” I say to Paul because Kiki is too busy walking around the car fanning himself and making clucking noises to listen to me. “This car is by no mean my Mercedes but she does work, and I’m paying her off by working at the tow yard.” I can’t help but feel a tiny bit proud.

  “There is only one option here … roll this thing off the nearest cliff. This is a mark of white trash, girl. You have gone to the poor side, and I cannot take it. Either you do it, or Paul and I have to play ninjas in the middle of the night, and not the fun role play type. The type where we have to car jack this thing and … Oh God, it’s starting to rub off on me, your poorness. I’m talking about stealing a Neon. I feel faint.” He leans up against the car.

  “Babe, I know this is hard for you, but we need to support Katie.” Paul comes to my defense. “And maybe get her an air freshener, but nonetheless, you are her best friend, and you need to act like it,” Paul says.

  “It’s okay. I’m used to Kiki’s antics, and this is nothing. You should have seen the eighth-grade talent show nonsense. Let’s just say he took it to a new level of insanity. It was the year of the plastic dress.”

  “That cellophane dress was awesome. I can’t help that the student body doesn’t know talent if it hit them upside the head with a frying pan and served them cornbread and sweet tea.”

  “What?” Paul and I both look at him, confused.

  “The point is he is right.” Kiki leans his head against Paul’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, babe, I’m not being a good friend,” he coos at Paul, who wraps his arm around Kiki.

  “You don’t ever have to apologize to me.”

  I’m happy for Kiki that he found someone that he cares about, but a pang of jealousy sparks inside of me. With my plan so far off track, I wonder if I will ever fall in love. My plan was simple, easy and clean. I was to finish school graduate with honors, followed by grad school where I would meet Prince Charming, who was either in finance or med school. Get married, two children, a house in Atlanta, and a vacation home in Florida, the end. Now I’m broke, driving around in a piece of junk car and working at a tow yard. My chest tightens as the panicky feeling erupts in the pit of my stomach, slowly fluttering to life. I’m not in control anymore; I feel so far off my path I’m afraid I will never find my way back.

  “Don’t cry, Katie, the car is great,” Kiki says, putting his hand on my shoulder. The sudden movement chases the flutter of panic down into the pit of my stomach where it’s manageable. “I will only forgive you on one condition.” I wipe the tears and cross my arms over my chest and smirk at him.

  “Anything but that, please,” he begs.

  “Oh it’s happening, get in.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Kiki.” Paul gasps, but he follows Kiki into the backseat of the Neon.

  “You could, at least, tint the windows before making me ride in this piece of shit. Take the back roads.” Kiki pulls a scarf off his neck and wraps it around his head.

  “Oh yeah, like a large black man wearing a multi-colored scarf fringed in hot pink will not call attention to us,” I quip

  “Not the kind that I want,” Kiki says.

  “What is this?” I pull out a cd from the center counsel that was left by the previous owner. “Could it be?”

  “No.”

  “Oh yeah, some club techno music.”

  “Don’t you dare!” I push the cd into the player, and the music pumps out, rattling the already broken speakers. “I’m in hell,” Kiki groans.

  “I think it’s quaint,” Paul chirps.

  “No, honey, quaint is that little bed and breakfast we stayed at. Quaint is the closest we came out of. This, sweetie, is hell.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Paul, he was never in the closet.” Glancing at them in my rearview mirror, I pull out of the apartment complex. I push the gas and the car groans with Kiki.

  Besides torturing Kiki, it’s actually kind of nice not having to worry about potholes or other divers potentially scratching the car. Hell, what is one more scratch on this car? It will just add to the charm. We speed through town, and I make a lap around Kiki’s old high school boyfriend’s house in hopes he will come out and see us. Even Kiki relaxes and starts to vogue in the backseat. We are all singing at the top of our lungs when I slam into the back of a stopped pickup truck.

  T
he sound of my bumper crushing is not the sound I wanted to hear this afternoon. My truck jerks forward. Fuck.

  Slamming the truck into park, I go to get out to see what sort of damage is done and if the asshole who hit me is okay. “Don’t get out of the truck,” James warns, looking in the rearview mirror. “Whatever you do, just roll up the windows and wait for the police to come.”

  “You can be a real dickhead; you know that, right?” I say before getting out of the truck. “Shit,” I mumble under my breath. James was right, I should have stayed in the truck, locked the door, and waited for the police come because the fiery little redhead is storming up to me. Katie.

  “What the hell did you stop for?” She gestures at the light that has now turned green.

  “Umm because it was red.”

  She narrows her eyes at me, the ones that haunted my dreams last night. What is the chance that the same girl that I had to carry home last night, slams into the back of my truck?

  “Are you okay?” I ask, noticing a trickle of blood on her forehead.

  “I would be a lot better if assholes like you would stay off the road,” she snaps.

  “Me? Maybe if uptight, crazy women like you learned to drive.” I say it to rile her up a little more. She crosses her arms over her chest, covering the cleavage that was peeking out of her shirt, and I’m disappointed that it’s no longer visible. She kind of looks like a naughty teacher in that outfit.

  “Look, let me get your insurance info, and I will take care of it,” I say.

  “Insurance?” Her voice wavers.

  “Yeah, who is your insurance provider?” She nervously glances back at her car, and that’s when I realize it’s the junker I towed in last week. I bet dad sold it to her today. Fuck! “You don’t have insurance, do you?”

  She shakes her head no.

  I lean back on my heels and take my baseball cap off my head, running a hand over my head. “Let’s see the damage that you did.”

  “That I did?” She gets riled up again.

  Smiling to myself, I walk to the back of the truck and take a look. The bumper has a crack down the middle and a few scratches, nothing that can’t be easily fixed. However, the Neon looks worse than it did before; the hood is slightly crunched, and green coolant drips onto the pavement. “Well, the good news is you can drive it, the bad news only to the shop so I can fix it.”