The Pull of Gravity

by Brett Battles

  Apparently, Mariella was with them that first night they came to The Lounge. I never saw her, and Cathy, who would have said something to me, wasn’t there that night. In fact, as I was acutely aware, she hadn’t been there for several nights, so I guess that’s probably why Mariella showing up at The Lounge didn’t even register with me.

  By Larry’s third night in town, Mariella stopped asking and just automatically tagged along. At first, even that didn’t seem to bother him, but by the fourth or fifth night, he’d apparently had enough.

  “Can’t we have a night with just you and me?” he asked Isabel one night when they had a few moments alone together.

  Mariella’s presence had actually been bothering Isabel longer than it had been bothering Larry, yet she was willing to put up with it if she was the only one who noticed. Now that Larry had said something, she told him, “I’ll talk to her.”

  The next day while Larry was in the shower, Isabel called Mariella on her cell from Larry’s hotel room. Mariella told Isabel a story she heard about a girl who worked at Torpedoes who’d gotten into a fight with the mamasan, then moved directly into what she’d heard about another girl they both knew who’d moved to Australia with her new husband. Isabel listened patiently, not really sure how she was going to bring up the subject of that evening. Looking back later, Isabel realized that Mariella probably knew exactly why her cousin had called and was doing everything she could to keep Isabel off track. It worked for a while, but then Isabel was finally able to grab onto an opening.

  “I think tonight Larry wants to take me out to a special dinner,” Isabel said, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice. “Just him and me.”

  “Oh,” Mariella said.

  “It’s not that we don’t enjoy having you along…” Isabel said.

  “No. I understand.” All the fun had left Mariella’s voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get in the way. You have fun. I’ll leave you alone.”

  “It’s not like that,” Isabel said. “You weren’t in the way. It’s just…”

  “Please. I understand. Okay, I have to go now.”

  “I’ll call you later, okay?” Isabel asked.

  “I think I’m going to be busy. Maybe tomorrow. Bye.”

  Mariella hung up before Isabel could say another word.

  • • •

  Mariella couldn’t have spun a more effective web of guilt around Isabel if she tried twice as hard. Now, instead of being happy to be with Larry and enjoying their time together, the whole day and into the night, Isabel worried about what Mariella thought about her.

  Knowing Larry, I’m sure he probably noticed something was wrong not long after they went out, but Isabel said he didn’t say anything until that evening. They were at dinner, the seafood barbecue poolside at the Las Palmas Hotel.

  Unusually for them, their conversation lagged. Larry tried numerous times to get it going, but Isabel was unresponsive. Her mind was a million miles away that night, she told me. She was sure Mariella was upset with her. She feared the next time she saw her cousin, Mariella would ignore her, shunning her the way Isabel had seen Mariella shun others in the past. She had no idea how much she had fallen under Mariella’s influence, and how much she'd come to need Mariella’s approval in everything she did.

  At one point, when the conversation had fallen into one of those long silences, Isabel looked up and found Larry staring at her.

  “Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “It’s just that you’ve been staring at your food for the last five minutes but not eating anything.”

  “I guess I’m not that hungry.”

  “It’s more than that,” he said. “You’ve barely said a word to me since we got here.”

  She tried to smile. “A headache, that’s all.”

  “Are you feeling sick?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  Larry pushed his chair back. “I’ll get you some aspirin,” he said as he stood.

  He looked so eager to help that she said, “Okay.” She didn’t think the aspirin would work, but hoped that getting it would distract Larry long enough to give her time to shake herself out of her funk.

  It didn’t.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The dreaded encounter with Mariella came the next night. After dinner the night before, Larry had suggested they call it an early evening. And though Isabel’s sleep was not completely sound, she did wake up in the morning feeling better. By the time they went out that night, she was even in a good mood again.

  Isabel told me they had planned on coming by The Lounge that evening, but for some reason ended up at Slo Joe’s, one of the biggest bars on Fields. On any given night, their lineup had more than seventy dancers. Counting waitresses and bartenders, there were nights when over a hundred girls would be working.

  I hated the place. There was no reason for it to be as big as it was. The old adage “quantity doesn’t always equal quality” described the place to a tee. They didn’t really care who they took on, and all the girls knew if you lost your job and couldn’t get one anywhere else, you could always get one at Slo Joe’s. It wouldn’t have surprised me if Veta had ended up working there.

  Slo Joe’s was a hive of drug addicts and bad attitudes. The girls would literally push each other out of the way to get to a potential customer. Some guys liked that kind of experience, and there were apparently more than enough of them to keep the place in business. To me it represented the worst of Angeles.

  Isabel said they got there around ten p.m., and even though she walked in with Larry’s arm around her waist, the girls ignored her and pounced on him, pulling him toward empty tables in different directions. By the time order was restored, Isabel and Larry were seated in one of the cushy, velvet-covered booths along the wall. Two or three of the more persistent girls stayed with them, hoping to scam a few lady drinks or maybe, if the money was good and they were desperate enough, a bar fine and a threesome. But Larry was having none of that and soon made it clear he wasn’t going to buy any of them anything. One by one they drifted off in search of other prey.

  “I don’t know why we stayed,” Isabel said as we sat on the beach watching evening descend over Boracay.

  “Was it Larry’s idea?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think he was comfortable, either, but it was like neither one of us wanted to say, ‘Come on, let’s go someplace else.’ After the emptiness of the night before, I think we both thought we needed a party.”

  “And the best thing you can say about Slo Joe’s is there’s always a party,” I said, finishing her thought.

  She nodded. It was clear from the look in her eyes that the memory was a painful one. “The music was so loud,” she said. “Louder than we ever had it at The Lounge on our busiest nights. The only time we could really talk was between songs. The girls kept trying to get Larry’s attention, but each time he would pull me a little closer or kiss me or run his fingers through my hair, so I didn’t mind.”

  Then, without warning—but what warning could there have been?—Mariella was suddenly standing in front of them. And though she was wearing her all-purpose ear-to-ear smile, there was something in her eyes that belied any sense of well-being. She wasn’t alone, either. Bibiana and Elana, another girl Isabel had seen once or twice at Mariella’s place, were with her.

  “Isabel. Larry. How are you?” Mariella sounded surprised, but Isabel got the sense she wasn’t.

  Mariella leaned down and gave them each a hug and a kiss. “Have you been here long?” she asked.

  “A little while,” Larry said.

  Mariella leaned in toward Isabel and said in a hushed voice that was still loud enough for everyone to hear, “Don’t worry. I’m only saying hello.”

  Isabel tensed.

  “How do you like this place?” Mariella said to Larry. “I think it’s great. So many pretty girls. But, of course, you already have the prettiest on
e, di ba?” As she laughed, her smile never changed. It was as if it had been surgically sewn into position.

  “Do you want to join us?” Larry asked.

  “No, I couldn’t,” Mariella said. She glanced at her two companions. “We only came in for a drink and to see if there was anyone here we knew.”

  “You know us,” Larry said.

  Mariella laughed loudly. Larry’s response obviously wasn’t what she’d been expecting. “You’re right,” she said. “Maybe for just one drink.”

  She sat down on the other side of Larry while Bibianna and Elena, both looking bored and annoyed, sat next to Isabel. Almost on cue, the waitress showed up to take drink orders.

  “White wine,” Mariella said.

  Bibianna and Elena had the same, but before the waitress could walk too far away, Mariella called her back. “I have an idea.” She leaned across Larry so she could squeeze Isabel’s hand, her right breast rubbing up against Larry’s chest. “Why don’t we celebrate? Every night your Larry’s in town should be a celebration.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Larry said.

  Mariella laughed and leaned into him for a moment. “You’re a funny guy.” She turned toward the waitress. “Tequila shots. Five of them.”

  If it hadn’t been a party before, it was then. Even Bibianna and Elena loosened up after a second round of shots. “Maybe for just one drink” became tray after tray of wine and beer and shooters. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Even Larry didn’t seem to mind Mariella’s presence.

  But for Isabel, the good feeling that had returned to her during the day was slipping away again. It was Mariella, of course, but it wasn’t so much that she was paying too much attention to Larry, it was the attention she was paying Isabel. For the most part, it was none, but a few times when everyone was looking elsewhere, Isabel caught Mariella glancing her way with eyes hard and piercing and no smile on her face.

  Sometime after midnight, Larry began talking about going home, but Mariella would have none of it.

  “It’s still early,” she said. “We should go dancing.”

  Larry protested some, but finally said, “If Isabel wants to go, I guess it’s okay.”

  Of course Isabel didn’t want to go, but even without the quick, reproachful look she got from Mariella, she knew she couldn’t say that. “Yes,” she said. “It sounds like fun.”

  When the waitress came with the final bill, Larry said, “I’ll get it.” Isabel knew he needn’t have said it. No one else would have made a move to pay even a part of the bill.

  As they left Slo Joe’s they met three more of Mariella’s friends. Isabel had never met any of them before, but they looked like all of Mariella’s friends—too made up, too dressed up and with an air that they were above everyone else. When Mariella said they were going dancing, Isabel got the sense the new girls already knew it. She realized Mariella must have text messaged them from inside Slo Joe’s. So their party of five grew to a party of eight, with Larry being the presumed master when in fact he was just a patsy in a grander scheme.

  There is only one place in the district for dancing—the Rumba Room, just a block off Fields on a parallel street. It wasn’t a go-go bar and there were no girls to bar fine, but that didn’t mean there weren’t girls to hook up with. Freelancers and off-duty dancers enjoying a night out were often perfectly willing to go with the right guy for the right price.

  Inside, there were three stories—tiers, really—surrounding a large, open central space. The dance floor was in the middle of the ground floor, so that’s where most of the people were. The higher you went, the more likely you would find a space for more intimate action. Theatrical lights illuminated the dance floor, and on some nights, special dance groups would come in to perform. Male dancers mostly, and in an odd twist, it would be the girls of Fields lining the stage, urging the guys along.

  That night there was no show, only a house full of girls and guys in various stages of inebriation, some dancing, some lounging, some scamming, and a few passed out where they sat. The music was the same contemporary dance remix crap they played in most of the bars, and it was almost as loud as it was at Slo Joe’s. The difference was that the Rumba Room was big enough to absorb some of the noise and allow partial conversation.

  All the tables were already full, so they found a space against the wall to squeeze into for the time being. After ordering a bottle of champagne from a waitress, Mariella, Bibianna and one of the new girls headed for the dance floor. Mariella tried to drag Larry with them, but he resisted, saying, “Maybe later.”

  Every time Isabel wanted to lean over and whisper to Larry, “Take me home,” she’d catch sight of Mariella looking at her from the dance floor. It was as if her cousin knew her every move.

  “Do you want to dance?” Larry asked her.

  She didn’t, but she said okay anyway. Anything to make Larry happy.

  Once they were on the floor, she closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. For a little while it was all gone: Mariella, the bars, the guys, Angeles, even Larry. There was nothing but darkness and the music in her head. She could feel the bodies around her as they brushed against her, but they registered only as unknowable sensations, guiding her, caressing her, keeping her safe.

  When a hand slipped into hers, she knew it was Larry, so she opened her eyes and reentered the world. He leaned into her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she said.

  They danced continuously for three songs. At the end of the third song, she leaned against him and felt sweat on his shirt.

  “Rest?” he asked.

  She smiled and nodded.

  Putting his arm around her, he led her off the dance floor and back to their spot along the wall. No one else was there, and for a moment Isabel hoped the others had left. But then someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned to find Elena standing behind her.

  “We found a table,” Elena told them. “This way.”

  They followed her up the stairs to a table on the second level where Mariella and her other friends were seated. They had already worked their way through a bottle of champagne, and a waitress was setting a second bottle on the table. When Mariella saw Isabel and Larry, she jumped up.

  “Where did you go?” she asked, her voice playful yet scolding.

  “I wanted to dance,” Larry said.

  “Isabel is so lucky to have a man who likes to dance,” Mariella told him. “Here. Sit down. We’ve poured you some champagne.”

  She maneuvered it so that she was sitting next to Larry again. They toasted and drank, and toasted and drank again. Isabel, though, only had a sip. She could feel that she was on the verge of losing control. She was pretty sure Larry was, too, at that point, but he didn’t drink for a living and hadn’t learned the tricks.

  There was laughter and singing and drinking, and at some point Mariella put her hand on Larry’s thigh. It stayed there for several seconds before Larry looked down. He seemed confused for a moment, as if expecting to see Isabel’s hand, not her cousin’s. He then pushed it off, and turned to Mariella, opening his mouth to say something.

  “I think I want to go back to the hotel,” Isabel whispered quickly in his ear. She didn’t want to cause a scene, but she didn’t want to stay any longer. “I’m not feeling very well.”

  Larry turned back to her. “Another headache?” he asked, worried.

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s go.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some money for the drinks, handing it to Mariella. “This should cover everything.”

  “You can’t go,” Mariella said.

  “Isabel isn’t feeling well.”

  “What’s wrong, Isabel?” Mariella’s voice dripped with insincere concern.

  Isabel knew if she looked at her cousin she would get another one of Mariella’s withering looks, so she kept her eyes downcast. “I have a bad headache.”

  “Oh, baby,” Mariella said. “Come here and I’ll give
you a massage and maybe that will help.”

  “Thank you, but I think I just need to rest,” Isabel said, still avoiding looking at her cousin.

  As Larry and Isabel stood up to leave, Mariella also stood.

  “I hope you feel better,” Mariella said, then hugged Isabel.

  Caught off guard, Isabel glanced up and saw in Mariella’s eyes anger and disappointment. Isabel’s stomach churned as she accepted her cousin’s hug and kiss on the cheek.

  When Mariella turned to Larry, she said, “Thank you for letting us join you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  “Maybe after Isabel’s asleep, you can come back out and join us?” she suggested.

  Isabel tensed, but Larry said, “Thanks, but I’m pretty tired myself.”

  “I understand,” she said, as she reached out and gave him a hug.

  She started to kiss him on his cheek, but instead her lips brushed past and landed on his. Before he could even react, she pulled away.

  “Good night,” she said. “Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Night,” Larry mumbled.

  Isabel, not trusting her own voice, said nothing until the next morning.

  • • •

  The sun was fully down by the time she’d told me all of this. And the breeze had cooled the air enough so that it became another pleasant Boracay evening.

  “What did you say to him?” I asked her.

  “What could I say?” She looked at me. “It wasn’t his fault. He loved me. I knew that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”

  “But Mariella was hurting you,” I countered.

  Isabel sighed. “It’s not that easy. I thought she was trying to teach me a lesson. I would have done anything for her then. She was everything I could never be, di ba? She’d given me everything I had. She got me my job at The Lounge. She let me live with her for free. She was family, only one in Angeles. My mother tell me before I leave home to listen to Mariella, that she know everything. ‘Mariella your cousin,’ she say. ‘Family always most important.’ If it wasn’t for Mariella, I would have never met Larry.”