Pull

by Claire Wallis

  Not a chance. Just been too busy to partake.

  Well, get to it, then.

  Yes, ma’am.

  While u r at it, win me one of those indescribable benefits I was promised.

  Like what?

  Surprise me.

  You might not wanna leave your request so open-ended…

  I’m willing to risk it.

  Brave woman. I’ll do my best.

  That’s all a girl can ask for. Well…that, hot sex, and a superhero to watch over me (no pressure or anything).

  Anyone who touches you will meet their maker before they can blink.

  Atta boy. But what about the hot sex part?

  That’s a given.

  :) Shouldn’t u be getting to that drinking and winning?

  I’m on it.

  Night, David.

  Night.

  I press Send, but it feels unfinished. A half-minute later, I touch Emma’s name again and type.

  Love you.

  Inside my head, I hear her sigh. And then I picture her mouth flexing into a smile.

  Best.

  It’s her only reply, but I know exactly what she means. Because we’re two of the same. I slide my phone back into my pocket, take a deep breath, and sit down in the office.

  --------------------------------------------------------------------

  Matt is inebriated. No. He’s plastered. It’s three a.m., and he’s somehow managed to lose not only his money, but also his car keys. I hope he didn’t put his car up against his hand. That would be an idiotic move, but it’s one I’ve seen him make before. He won it back the last time, but this time, I don’t know what the fuck happened. His friends are gone. They left an hour ago without so much as a goodbye.

  When I realize how shitfaced he is, I haul his sorry ass back to the office and tell him to sleep it off while we clean up and count. A minute later, he’s on the floor snoring. I bend down and roll him over onto his side, patting him on the cheek affectionately and calling him a clown. He smells fermented.

  When the boys finish their cleanup rounds and Brad and I complete our count, I distribute the cash and ask if anyone found Matt’s car keys. Cameron produces them from his pocket and hands them to me. Turns out Matt didn’t lose them, he gave them to Cameron to keep his drunk friends from taking them and driving themselves home. The blatant irony is not lost on us, and we enjoy a good laugh at the expense of the clown passed out in the back room. After everyone else leaves, I rouse Matt and carry him to his car piggyback-style.

  When we get to his apartment, I sling him up over my shoulder, take him up the elevator, and drop him onto his bed. I take his shoes off and, once again, flip him onto his side. As I’m working on setting his alarm, his eyes open and a drunken voice rolls out of his mouth.

  “Thanks for the ride, man.”

  “No problem. Get some sleep. Work comes early.” I’m looking down at him as he’s lying on the bed. With his buttoned-to-the-top plaid shirt and gelled-up hair, I can’t help but think about what a Poindexter he is. The cartoon rocket ship tattooed on his forearm doesn’t help. Matt’s a stand-up guy and someday, some girl is gonna come along and rip his heart out. And he’s gonna let it happen because he’s too damned nice. The best I can do is hope that when it does happen, it doesn’t jade him. I hope he never changes. I hope he’s always a Poindexter.

  “Who was that guy?” he asks with a slur.

  “What guy?”

  “That guy with the gold rabbit teeth and the fucking entourage. Who was that?” He’s looking up at me, and his eyes are practically crossed. He’s more smashed than I’ve ever seen him, and his voice is so high it’s bordering on a squeak.

  “No one you need to know. Go to sleep.”

  “Are you in trouble?” he says while pointing his finger up at me and poking at the air. He’s worried about me. It’s almost sweet.

  “’Cause Emma doesn’t deserve any shit from you,” he adds. Ahhh. He isn’t worried about me at all. He’s worried about Emma.

  “No worries. There’s no trouble. And there’s not going to be any either. That guy is just helping us out with some stuff.” I’m trying to reassure him, but when you’re this drunk, you don’t want to be reassured. You want to speak your mind.

  “He looks like a gangbanger pimp guy. What are you doing with him? You’d better watch out, because if you do something that hurts Emma, you’re gonna have to answer to me.” He’s sitting up in the bed now, trying to look tough and repeatedly pointing at his own chest.

  “I have no intention of hurting Emma. I love her, remember?” I say, hoping to placate him and shut down his drunken rant before he says something he’ll regret.

  He draws in a quick gasp. “Is this about her brother? Was that her brother or something? No…her brother wouldn’t have gold rabbit teeth, would he? Shit. Did he come back to make sure she’s dead? Was that her brother?” His face looks completely astonished, as if his own fictitious revelation has completely blown his mind. He’s in a near panic. I want to laugh at him.

  “That wasn’t her brother, you douche. And this has nothing to do with Emma. I told you before, her brother isn’t coming back. He got what he wanted. You really need to go to sleep now.” I push him back down on the bed and toss the covers up over his body. I’m nearly out the door when he decides to add one more thing.

  “Good,” he says as I flip off his light switch, “’cause I don’t wanna have to kick his ass and yours. Don’t fuck things up, David. Just don’t fuck things up.”

  “That seems to be my mantra these days,” I tell him. “And you have no idea how hard I’m trying.”

  I close his bedroom door and call myself a cab.

  -----------------------------------------------------------------------

  I take off my clothes, climb into the bed, and spoon myself behind Emma, flexing my hips against her backside. It’s five o’clock in the morning, only an hour until she has to get out of bed and get ready for work. But I want to wake her now because I can’t wait.

  I hold her chin in my hand, bending it upward so my mouth can slide across the side of her neck. I slather her skin with kisses until she whimpers and tries to wiggle away from me. I hold her tight and whisper “hold still” into her ear. I reach down and tug off her pajama bottoms, running my fingers up and down her soft flesh. And then my hand is between her legs, my fingers parting her thighs. She whimpers again, but this time, she doesn’t try to pull away. Holding her chin and sucking on her neck, I press myself against her back. Her whimpers turn to groans as I rub my fingers over her. I’m spooned behind her, breathing dirty, shameless words into her ear. Words to make her know I can’t exist without her and I will do anything it takes to keep her safe.

  My hips sink forward, and I push myself into her. Entering her body is like being on a blockbuster heroin high. It’s a moment—and a lifetime—of pure bliss and raw feeling every single time. With each shift of my hips, I use my hands to force her body down against mine. Our bodies move together, bending front and back.

  “Touch yourself,” I whisper into her ear, and when she reaches down between her legs, my arms tighten around her. Her fingers dance across her body, and she sighs.

  “That’s it. Keep going.” She twists her fingers against herself, feeling her own soft, slick pleasure. Each time I push into Emma, her fingers press downward, trapping herself between her own fingers and my body. Her mouth opens, and her hips grind backward into mine. My lips are on her neck again, kissing the spot just below her ear, lapping at her flesh.

  “Can I?” she asks a minute later. “I’m close.” Her voice is coarse and quiet, still tinged with sleep, but her body is vibrating. Shouting.

  “Do it,” I say into her ear. Then I slide my hands down over her breasts and begin to twist them between my fingers. A second later, her pelvis rolls forward, hard against her own fingers, and my hips dig into her sharply. I hear a rough groan, and her body finds release, sinking back into me, rolling over t
he edge. I push forward one last time, and exhale a stuttered breath on the back of her neck. When we still, I reach down over her hip, resting my palm on the side of her thigh.

  Now I need to sleep.

  ---------------------------------------------------------------

  When I wake up, Emma’s gone, and the clock tells me it’s one in the afternoon. I check my voicemail for the list of rotten jobs Carl has for me today and then head up to my place for a shower. When I’m ready to leave, I have to cab it back over to Carson Street to pick up my car. I’m sitting in the back of the taxi when I feel my phone vibrate. I’m hoping for Emma, but instead, it’s Matt.

  Thanks for the ride.

  At least he remembered how he got home.

  Just returning the favor.

  Sorry I’m such a sissy when I drink.

  No problem. U make it to work this morning?

  Barely.

  Been there myself once or twice.

  Sorry I was talking shit.

  Also not a problem.

  U know where my wallet went?

  Didn’t see it on u. Sorry.

  Aww man.

  Hope it turns up.

  Thanks. Emma said u won big last night.

  Did she, now?

  Said something about u waking her up this morning to tell her.

  Very funny, Emma. Very funny.

  Must have been a dream.

  She’s all bubbly and shit today—must have been a hell of a dream.

  Sounds like it.

  I think she’s expecting an expensive gift or something.

  What makes u say that?

  ’Cause she said u were gonna surprise her with something better than whatever u gave her this morning.

  What a clever little thing you are, Emma Searfoss.

  There IS nothing better than what I gave her this morning.

  What did u give her? U guys aren’t engaged or something, are u?

  No. Nothing like that. I’ll let her tell u what I gave her. Go ask her. I gotta go.

  Poor Matt. He’s a pawn in Emma’s silly game, and he doesn’t even know it. Let’s see what she comes up with.

  Okay. Thanks again.

  Welcome.

  I put my phone back into my pocket just as the cab driver pulls into the Carson Street lot. I pay him in cash and walk to my car. There, leaning on the hood, is Nikki. Nikki-fucking-Jones has her filthy, rancid ass propped up against my spotless paintjob. Her face is still a wreck, but at least she’s cleaned herself up a little. The caked-on vomit and blood are gone, and her hair’s been washed. When I get close enough, I see the hollowness in her eyes. Her cheeks are sunken, and it’s clear that she’s in need of a fix. I’m sure Ray cut her off because of her bullshit.

  “He was gonna kill me, you know,” she says to me when I’m close enough to hear.

  “Ray wasn’t gonna kill you, Nikki. You’re his best girl. He was just trying to scare you.”

  “I’m not talkin’ about Ray-Ray, sweetheart. I’m talking about Franklin,” she says with her eyes on the pavement. I’ve never seen her look embarrassed before.

  “You think?”

  “I don’t think, sugar, I know. I know he was gonna kill me. He was madder than a beauty queen caught in a piss storm 'cause I sucked up all his meth and drank up all his bourbon. I thought I’d be outta there before he got home. But I just got so fucked-up, honey. So fucked up. I couldn’t barely walk, and when he came in and saw what I’d done, he laid into me like I stole the goddamned crown jewels right outta his living room.” She takes a drag from her cigarette, and I notice that her hand is shaking. I know what Brad and Cameron did for her on Monday night, and I know that Franklin can’t be happy about it.

  “Me and Franklin, we been together for eight years now, cookie, and he never done nothin’ like that to me before. I mean, he hit me lots of times but nothin’ like that.” She takes another drag of her cigarette and turns her head from side to side as she talks. “But your boys, they came and they kept Franklin from killin’ me. I know you sent those boys to come and get me on account of my lying to Ray about you threatening me, and you were probably planning on beatin’ me yourself, but they saved me. You and your boys saved my life. And that big boy—the handsome one—he took some of Franklin’s punches, too.”

  That would explain why Brad’s face is swollen, even though he claims he only got scratched by Nikki. Leave it to Brad to try and cover up the fact that he got pummeled by a drugged-up fifty-year-old.

  “I wasn’t going to beat you. I don’t beat women. Not even ones who mock my girl and tell lies that threaten to ruin everything I’ve worked for. I have other ways of encouraging someone to tell the truth. Don’t I?”

  “Yeah, sugar-pie, you do.” She looks off in the distance, her half-closed eyes filled with a snowy haze. “You’re not the man I thought you were. All you boys gonna get into heaven someday for what you did, and them little girl angels up there, they gonna take good care of you, sweetheart. Just like you’re takin’ care of me. I’m leaving today. I’m goin’ to my sister’s place in Alabama. I’m gonna do just what you said and get the hell outta here. You won’t see me again.”

  I’m glad she knows how to listen. I need her out of this town because I think Ricky may have told her things he shouldn’t have, and Emma sure as hell doesn’t need another scar ripped open if we ever run into Nikki again and she decides to open her fucking mouth about the whole thing. Plus, by leaving, she might just be handing me a huge opportunity to get Emma out of that gold-toothed bastard’s sights. Nikki’s a loose cannon, and I need her gone. I only hired her to keep Ricky quiet while I got his blackmail money together. I wanted him to be occupied with screwing her instead of with stalking Emma. Instead, Nikki ended up being his punching bag and his confidante. I don’t know what he told her, but whatever it is, it isn’t worth the chance. They were together for less than twenty-four hours, but it was more than enough for Nikki. When Ricky got his money and left, she wanted to be paid double. I told her to suck it up; double wasn’t what we agreed on. I don’t blame her for wanting revenge. Like I said, I feel bad.

  “This is a good decision, you know,” I say to Nikki as she stands up straight and tidies her blouse. “And don’t worry. I’ll take care of Ray and Franklin. I won’t let either one of them find out where you are.”

  “Shit, honey. You don’t have to concern yourself one goddamn bit with Franklin. He ain’t gonna come lookin’ for me. He’s been tryin’ to find a way outta us for six years. He’ll be happy he don’t hafta share with me no more. Ray’s the one I worry about, 'cause if he finds out you gave me money to get outta here, he’s gonna flip his shit.”

  “He won’t find out.”

  She doesn’t look convinced. But I am.

  “I hope you’re right, ’cause he’ll do some serious damage if he does. And you better watch your ginger girl, too, cause Ray’s as evil as the Lord ever made ’em.” She pauses for a second to take a deep breath before continuing, “And just so you know, I did somethin’ nice for you too, on account of you givin’ me the money to get outta here. I didn’t tell Ray nothin’ about your girl being that man’s little sister. You know who I’m talkin’ about. That man you paid me to entertain? The one that treated me like a rag doll and beat me down? I know she’s his little sister ’cause, after he kicked the shit outta me, that cocksucker made me sit outside with him while he watched her through a pair of them binocular things. He’s obsessed with his own sister, and that ain’t right. ’Cause that kinda shit don’t ever go away, you know what I’m sayin’? Now, I don’t know what you and that man were up to when he was here, but I’ll tell you that Ray was not happy when he saw what that man did to my face, so I got me a feelin’ that if he ever found out about your ginger girl and that man bein’ kin, he’d have a problem with that.”

  Jesus Fucking Christ. This woman cannot get out of town fast enough.

  “You can’t blame me for lyin’ to Ray about what happened at the
liquor store,” she continues. “You can’t. ’Cause guys like your girl’s brother are hard to forget, and you’re the only one I had to take it out on. But we’re even now for sure, ain’t we?”

  I don’t say a word.

  “I gotta get goin’. My bus leaves at three.” She turns to walk away. My mind is reeling. It’s screaming at me, telling me I have to plan. I have to reevaluate and control. And above all, I have to protect Emma.

  Nikki’s stilettos sink into the grass at the asphalt’s edge as she walks toward the bus station. The messenger bag over her shoulder bounces against her hip. That bag is probably filled with everything she owns. The idea of a person’s entire life fitting into a single bag is both sad and enlightening. Sad because she’s got nothing of substance to call her own; enlightening because she’s proof that a person needs so little to keep on existing.

  Just before she turns the corner, Nikki shouts a quick apology for losing it in the hallway on Carson Street. When Brad called me late on Monday night to tell me they had her, she was completely fucked up from Franklin’s fists. And his liquor and meth. I told Brad to take her to the game office and let her sleep it off. She spewed her poison down the hallway on her way back out yesterday afternoon. As she was walking through her own putrid vomit, I was shoving money into her pocket and ordering her to go back to Ray and tell him she lied. Tell him I did not threaten her. Tell him she’s nothing more than a lying bitch. And then I told her to get the hell out of town as fast as she can. Once again…I’m glad she knows how to listen.

  When Nikki turns the corner, I get in the car and start the engine. I have work to do.

  Just as I’m about to put the car into gear, my phone vibrates again. This time it’s Emma.

  Hi.

  This ought to be good.

  Hi back.

  It was my pleasure to tell Matt what u gave me this morning.

  Oh yeah?

  Yes, sir.

  And what did u tell him?

  That u came home from poker and woke me up wearing a full Batman costume.

  WTF?? U did not.

  I did. Then I told him u said u wanted to be my superhero. And it was very sweet.