Pretty Dirty Trick

by Tabatha Kiss

  A mimosa drops down in front of me and I glance up into the youthful eyes of our usual server. I flash him a wink in thanks and his lips twitch before he takes off once again.

  I reach for the glass, shifting my attention back to Trix as I take a sip.

  “Lance Tyler,” she says, squinting. “What the fuck kind of name is that?”

  “Very American,” I answer.

  “Yeah, well, he and this Max Monahan guy can suck my ass because...”

  I glance at Melanie and I realize she’s been staring at me since I sat down. Or, more specifically, at my neck.

  “What?” I ask her.

  She points at me. “What’s that about?” she asks, talking over Trix.

  I shrug. “What’s what about?”

  Trix goes quiet.

  “The choker,” Melanie says, leaning in. “You’re wearing a choker. In 2017.”

  My hand snaps to my neck. Fuck. I forgot I was still wearing it.

  “Uh…” I shift in my chair. “It’s an old necklace. I found it in my closet. Thought it looked cute…”

  Melanie shakes her head with suspicion. “You went back to Judy’s, didn’t you?” she asks.

  I drop my jaw. “No! I didn’t.”

  Her palm slams on the table. “You went back and you found yourself a Big Daddy Dom, didn’t you?! You’re collared!”

  My throat clenches. Fuck me and my stunning inability to lie.

  “Nongh itz...” I sigh. “Yes. Fine. I went back. But it’s not what you think!”

  Trix gasps at me. “You little slut!”

  “Oh, be careful now,” Melanie says, grinning. “She might like that.”

  “Stop it!” I glance around, hoping the sudden outburst didn’t draw eyes to our table. “It’s really not what you think,” I say again.

  “Who is it?” Melanie sits back with crossed arms, looking smug. “I want names.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… you probably don’t even know him.”

  She shrugs. “Try me.”

  I sigh. “Clive. His name is—”

  “Clive?” she repeats. “Clive Snow?”

  “… Yes.”

  “The bouncer, right?”

  I pause. “Yeah… you know him?”

  She laughs. “I interviewed him.”

  My eyes widen. “For what?”

  “I love to pick apart the staff at Judy’s,” she explains. “Those people have the best stories. I get some good, filthy material from them for my books.”

  Trix grins. “Do you still have your notes on this Clive Snow?” she asks with devious eyes.

  Melanie snatches her phone off the table. “Oh, I’m sure I do.”

  “Guys, come on…” I say. “Can we not make such a big deal out of this, please?”

  She turns her wrist, presenting the speaker forward.

  “First question,” her voice begins from a recording. “What’s your favorite masturbatory fantasy?”

  A man laughs, instantly making the hairs stand up on my neck. That’s definitely Clive.

  “Wow, you really jump in there, don’t you?” he asks.

  Trix visibly shivers. “Well, hello, Mr. Sexy Voice Man.”

  Melanie nods. Repeatedly.

  “It’s my favorite ice-breaker,” she says. “Trust me, we’ll get to favorite colors in a minute.”

  “Okay…” He chuckles. “My favorite masturbatory fantasy…?”

  “Yeah, the one that makes you instantly come. I’m talking buckets here.”

  I glare at Melanie but her smirk never fades.

  “Oh, that’s an easy one,” he says.

  My cheeks burn. “Maybe we shouldn’t listen to this,” I say.

  Trix snaps her fingers at me. “Shush.”

  Clive continues and I can almost hear the smile in his voice. “It’s a woman lying on the edge of a bed, on her back with her head just barely tilted over the side.”

  “Naked?” Melanie asks.

  “Definitely — or in some really nice lingerie. So, she’s lying there, head back, eyes open, looking right at me, and she begs me to come on her face.”

  They both silently turn to me. I sit back.

  “Oh, that’s a good one!” Melanie says.

  “I certainly like to think so,” he says, awkwardly laughing.

  “Do you ever get the chance to do it for real?”

  He hesitates. “Ehh... not really.”

  Trix nudges my arm. “Have you guys done it?”

  “No!” I bite my cheek. “Melanie, come on. Turn it off.”

  Melanie raises a sinister brow. “Don’t you want to know how to please your new Daddy?”

  “He’s not my Daddy!” I lower my voice, blushing hard. “We don’t play like that.”

  “Oh, but you do play.”

  Trix squints at me. “I thought you looked different…”

  I close my eyes, blocking their teases out, and my ears naturally focus on his voice coming from the phone instead.

  “I don’t want to say exactly what drew me to Red Brick, if that’s okay,” he says. “The now hiring sign was particularly appealing, I’ll admit that much.”

  “Had you ever been here before that?” Melanie asks.

  “A little, yeah.”

  “How often do you pick up girls and take them home with you?”

  “Never.”

  “Never?”

  “My place isn’t very big at the moment,” he says. “Three seats and a steering wheel. Lots of trunk space, though.”

  I open my eyes. “Wait, turn it up.”

  Melanie frowns. “Oh, I forgot about this...”

  “Hard times, huh?” she asks him.

  “You can say that.”

  Trix leans forward. “Did Daddy just say he lives out of his car?”

  My heart stops. “He’s homeless?” I ask.

  “Yeah...” Melanie taps the recording off. “We’ll just… put that away now.”

  “No, wait.” I reach out. “I want to hear that.”

  “This was like half a year ago,” she says. “He’s probably picked himself up by now. I mean, you’ve been to his place, right?”

  I sit back. “No, I haven’t.”

  I picture him this morning, walking around my condo with wide eyes. I thought he was just reacting how everyone reacts to a place on Michigan Avenue — but maybe last night was the first time in a long time he’s actually slept in a bed.

  Melanie snaps her fingers at me. “Stop that.”

  “Stop what?” I blink.

  “You’re over-thinking,” she says. “You’re flashing back and over-analyzing every little moment together, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not,” I say quickly.

  He works three jobs but doesn’t have a cell phone.

  “Nora.”

  He wears the same outfit to work every single day.

  “Nora.”

  “Oh, my god.” I cover my mouth. “I’m fucking a homeless guy.”

  Melanie twists in her chair and grabs my hands. “Nora, do you like him?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “Does he treat you well?”

  “Yeah. Very well.”

  “Does he smell like a dumpster?”

  “No. God, no.”

  “Then, who cares?” She squeezes my fingers. “Shit happens. That doesn’t make him a bad person.”

  Trix frowns. “Has he been to your condo?” she asks me.

  I swallow. “Yes.”

  “You should do an inventory when you get back.” She picks up her drink. “Just sayin’...”

  Melanie scoffs. “Poor doesn’t equal thief, Trix.”

  “Hey, Aladdin lived out of a hole in the wall and was hot as fuck. Dude still stole some bread.”

  I fall forward, groaning to myself as I smack my forehead on the table.

  Melanie nudges my shoulder. “Nora, this is not a big deal. Okay? And it’s not the type of thing yo
u can just drop into a conversation either — especially not with somebody like Nora Payne, if you know what I mean. Also, you love helping the less fortunate, right?”

  I raise my head a few inches. “Yeah, I do. I do like to do that.”

  “Just think of this as a charitable cause,” she says. “You’re helping a man find solace in a cruel and horrible world.”

  Trix cringes. “With her vagina, though?”

  Melanie fires her a glare before turning back to me. “And he’s helping you with your new sexual awakening. You look better right now than you have in weeks.”

  “I do?” My voice squeaks.

  Trix reluctantly nods. “Yeah, you do.”

  Melanie pokes my cheek. “So, there you go. No harm done. World not over. And you look cute as fuck in a choker.”

  I sit back in my chair as another round of mimosas appear on the table and the server’s shadow disappears behind me.

  “You’re right,” I say. “Who cares if he’s homeless?”

  Trix briefly raises her hand but Melanie forces it back down.

  “He’s clean,” I continue. “And gorgeous and funny. And he likes me. And I like him. And yeah, it’s a little awkward since he’s my employee, but—”

  “Whoa, what?” Melanie says over me. “Employee? What is this?”

  “He works at Black Book. Did I not mention that?”

  “Uh... no. What does he do?”

  “He’s...” I pause, thinking twice about telling them but it’s too late now. “He’s my new, hot temp.”

  Trix blinks twice. “You’re fucking your homeless, Daddy Dom employee?”

  “Yeah.” Melanie frowns. “I might have to change my vote here…”

  “What? Why?” I ask. “Two seconds ago you were all for it.”

  “Nora, you cannot bang a guy on your payroll,” she scolds.

  “Oh, come on. No one cares about that kind of thing anymore,” I argue. “Our personal relationship doesn’t even touch our work relationship. I barely even see him throughout the day and as soon as Ira comes back, he’ll be gone anyway.”

  “So, there’s been no hidden, lingering glances?” she asks. “No private chats or secret messages? Promises of post-work hook-ups?”

  I hesitate. “... No?”

  Melanie sighs and reaches for her phone.

  “Nora,” Trix says, “how long have you really thought about this and all the ways it could possibly go wrong?”

  I stare across the restaurant, my mind hung in a state of temporary blankness.

  Shit, they’re right. I haven’t thought about this enough. I’ve only considered how good he made me feel.

  Trix snatches Melanie’s phone away from her. “No,” she snaps.

  “Hey, give that back.”

  “Only if you promise to stop taking notes on our love lives for your naughty romance novels. Steal your ideas from K-dramas just like everybody else.”

  “Okay, fine.” Melanie takes it back and sets it down. “I’ll stop.”

  I keep staring forward, my hand running on autopilot to deposit multiple sips of my drink down my throat. I made up excuses to say no but they instantly dissolved the second Clive’s tongue touched mine. Damn the consequences, or so I thought…

  “Nora? You still in there?”

  I’m not sure which one said it but I glance between their sympathetic eyes. “Hmm,” I hum.

  “Look,” Melanie says, “we are but two opinions. Ultimately, it’s up to you. What do you want?”

  I flex my jaw. “I want my sexy, homeless street rat,” I say.

  “Then, go get him.” She smiles. “Who am I to judge? I’m probably just jealous anyway. I haven’t gotten laid in months.”

  Trix nods. “That would explain the writer’s block.”

  Melanie agrees. “I do write my best when I get nightly dick.”

  “You could always call Robbie.”

  “You shut your whore mouth.”

  “Meow.” Trix hisses. “Grouchy.”

  Melanie balances her chin on her palm. “So, how’s Marcus?” she asks.

  “Ugh. Touché.”

  I look at Melanie. “You really think he’s picked himself up by now?”

  She shrugs. “Probably. You could ask him.”

  “I wouldn’t even know how to bring up something like this,” I say.

  Trix smiles. “‘Hey, Daddy. You homeless?’ is probably a good start.”

  I furrow my brow and pour the rest of my mimosa down in one smooth gulp.

  Twenty-Four

  Nora

  We leave Moira’s Cafe shortly before two. I cringe at the bright sunlight beaming down on me so I search my purse for a pair of sunglasses.

  Trix pauses on the sidewalk. “You guys want to hit up a movie or something?”

  I laugh. “Anything to keep you from going home, right?”

  “You don’t understand,” she says. “My rejection of his little Kodak package is just making it worse. Might have to throw doggy a bone before shuffling him off to the pound.”

  “Yeah, don’t do that.”

  Melanie points across the street. “Hey, isn’t that Clive?”

  I spin around. “Where?”

  “The laundromat.”

  Trix nudges between us. “Lemme see!”

  I follow Melanie’s pointed finger and there’s Clive stepping out of the laundromat at the opposite corner.

  “Yeah,” I say, my insides twisting with warmth. “That’s him.”

  Trix swoons. “Daaaamn.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Maybe I should go to Judy’s...”

  Melanie nods. “Good, ole Judy,” she says. “She changes lives.”

  Clive steps off the curb and pauses by the trunk of an old, beat-up car with a garment bag draped over his arm.

  “Is that the mythical house-on-wheels?” Trix asks.

  “I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “It’s possible he’s not homeless anymore, you guys. Mel, you did say your interview was half a year ago.”

  “This is truth,” Melanie says.

  Trix squints. “We should get closer.”

  I twitch. “Why?”

  “Well, if he’s got blankets and pillows in the back, then we’ll know where he sleeps.”

  “There are loads of reasons why someone might have pillows and blankets in their car,” I argue.

  “Oh, yeah? Name one.”

  I stutter. “Camping?”

  “Does Daddy seem like the camping type?”

  I scoff. “Stop it. I don’t call him that.”

  Clive pops his trunk and I can’t help but push up onto the tips of my toes to try and get a better look inside.

  “Let’s follow him,” Melanie says.

  I snap in her direction. “Are you serious?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s rude!”

  Trix smiles. “I can be rude.”

  “Well, I can’t!” I say.

  “Two against one.” Melanie grabs my arm. “We’re doing this.”

  “No, wait, guys—!”

  She tugs me along with her around the building to the parking lot.

  “We’ll take my car,” Trix says, grabbing her valet stub. “It’s the least conspicuous and I’m the best getaway driver in case he pulls evasive maneuvers.”

  “No one’s pulling evasive maneuvers!” I say. “You guys, come on.”

  Trix gives her stub to the valet. “Lightning fast, please. I’ll slip you a fifty if the car is in front of me in fifteen seconds.”

  He grabs her keys and races into the lot.

  Clive closes the trunk and rounds the car toward the driver’s side door.

  I breathe through the rising panic in my chest. “Clive will be long gone by then,” I say. “Can we just go to the movies instead?”

  “No, he won’t,” Melanie says, raising a finger. “Daddy’s still right there.”

  I force her hand down. “Will you please stop pointing at him?
”

  “Nora,” she takes a breath, “do you want to know if he’s still homeless or not?”

  “Well, yeah, but—”

  “And do you feel, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he’d tell you the truth if you walked up and asked him right now?”

  I pause. “I dunno.”

  Trix’s car screeches to a halt beside us.

  Melanie smiles. “Then, get in the fucking car.”

  I deflate. They’re going to do this with or without me. I might as well tag along and make sure they don’t confront him directly. Or worse.

  “Fine,” I say, lowering into the backseat. “But I’m doing this under protest.”

  She winks. “Sure, you are.”

  Melanie hops into the front seat next to Trix, who immediately slams on the gas as soon as her door is closed.

  I clutch the seat beneath me as I click my seatbelt and hope for the best.

  Melanie points down the block. “He’s at the light. Hurry.”

  “Slow down, Mel...” Trix says, calm and collected. “We need to establish a safe distance first.”

  I frown. “How many times have you done this?”

  “Enough,” she answers.

  “He’s turning!” Melanie points again. “He’s turning!”

  “I see him...” Trix says, slightly annoyed.

  Clive takes a right turn and disappears down the street. We make it to the intersection in time to see him stop at a light a block away.

  “Don’t lose him,” Melanie says.

  Trix merely sighs and ignores her.

  I sit back with crossed arms, feeling absolutely wretched. Maybe I should have just asked him directly on the street. Or, better yet, maybe I shouldn’t bring it up at all. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.

  I look up into the rearview mirror. The pearl on my choker waves back and forth as Trix weaves between lanes. I smile slightly, remembering everything about last night and this morning. Safe and warm. I don’t want to lose that…

  But still, my eyes keep flicking ahead. I don’t want to lose him right now either. Curiosity clenches my gut. There’s still so much I don’t know about Clive Snow.

  Clive turns off the street into a parking lot. Trix slows down and slides into an empty parking spot just off the street and barely out of sight of Clive’s vehicle.

  Trix tosses her seatbelt off. “All right, ladies. Light feet.”

  They throw open their doors and I roll my eyes as I reluctantly join them. We walk to the edge of the building to get a view of Clive’s car in the parking lot, me stepping normally while the two of them slide against the wall with their backs hunched over like sinister cats. I’m glad they’re having fun with this because I’m about ready to turn around and—