Brooklyn Girls

by Gemma Burgess

  Oh, God, I don’t know. Sometimes I think I can convince myself of anything if I try hard enough.

  I pay the driver, and then turn and walk toward Rookhaven. I can’t help but smile at little Toto parked so happily in the darkness outside. I usually park her in the commissary on Saturday nights, but I’m painting SkinnyWheels Twitter and Facebook details on her sides tomorrow morning, so thought I’d keep her out.

  Then I notice it: something’s wrong.

  She’s not pink anymore. Blood-red paint is slashed across her sides, her tires are slashed, her headlights destroyed, her windows broken, her windshield wipers ripped off at the base.

  My poor darling Toto has been battered to a bloody pulp.

  CHAPTER 18

  The next day begins unexpectedly early, when Coco knocks on my door.

  “Pia? Pia? Pia? Are you awake?”

  “Yes … No. Yes.”

  “I need your help. I … need to get that pill.”

  “Advil? Look on my shelf in the bathroom,” I mumble. What was I dreaming about? Aidan. Lying in bed with Aidan, giggling, and I felt so warm and honeyish and happy … but something bad happened last night. Oh, God, my truck. Toto. Someone has destroyed Toto. It must be Bianca, right? Or the Banh Mi Up dude? Or Madeleine and Mike? Why does it seem like so many people have a reason to hurt me? And oh, God, Aidan asked me out! He’s so delicious, but—

  Then Coco pipes up again.

  “No … the other pill. The one for sex. Unprotected sex.”

  My eyes open. “What? Get in here.”

  Coco creeps in, still wearing her clothes from karaoke last night, and has the telltale signs of a good night being bad: chapped lips and a red, raw chin.

  “You couldn’t ask him to shave?”

  “I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice all high and wavy. “I don’t know who else to turn to, Julia would never understand, and—”

  “It’s fine, it’s fine!” I say. Oh, God, poor Coco. “Tell me everything. I am completely, one hundred percent awake.”

  Coco laughs, but it comes out as a choked cry. “I feel so awful. I was so drunk, I don’t even remember how it started, but then I sort of sobered up really fast. He didn’t even look at me during, um, it. Not once. Then I just lay there while he passed out and then I got dressed. I saw his eyes open in the reflection in the mirror, but when I turned around, he pretended to be asleep.”

  “What a cockmonkey,” I say, shuffling over on my bed so there’s a spare pillow next to me. “Come here.”

  She lies down next to me and stares at the ceiling. “And I had to leave, and I didn’t know where I was, and—”

  “Whose apartment was it?” I say.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know, he said it was a friend’s who was out of town. I can’t believe we did that in a stranger’s bed. I mean the sheets weren’t even clean, there wasn’t any toilet paper or soap in the bathroom, it was such a—a—a fucking dump.…” Tears are falling down her cheeks. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Coco swear before.

  “Oh, honey, I am so sorry.” I lean over, grab a box of tissues, and hand her one. “Okay, well, was it nice, at least? I mean, the sex?” I ask. Yes. Try to focus on the positives.

  “I haven’t—” she starts, then corrects herself. “Well it was, up to a point, it was very, uh, nice, and then it wasn’t.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “He didn’t even treat me like … I don’t know, I thought we were friends. I know that’s stupid. Oh, Pia, I have never felt so sick, I have a pain in my stomach—” Silent tears run down her cheeks.

  “It’s okay, this stuff happens all the time and it’s nothing to get upset about,” I say, trying to sound experienced and reassuring. “We all hook up with the wrong person and wake up wishing we hadn’t, it’s a horrible feeling but it doesn’t matter. In the end, it just doesn’t matter.”

  “But he … he came inside me,” says Coco, looking like she might throw up. “He didn’t even look me in the eyes and I was trying to imagine how I should be feeling and instead just felt—oh, God, I can’t bear it, I want to be sick.…”

  “Shhh,” I say, stroking her hair. “You don’t need to feel bad. He’s your friend, you liked him for so long, you had no way of knowing that it wouldn’t be like you wanted. You did nothing wrong. He’s an idiot, Coco.”

  “What if I get AIDS? Or one of the other ones?”

  “You don’t have AIDS.” And I doubt he’s getting enough action to be unknowingly carrying an STD around.

  Coco is crying too hard to respond. I lie next to her, stroking her hair as she cries the remnants of her makeup into my pillow.

  Eric turned up last night for one reason: to get laid.

  What a cockmonkey.

  I look over at sweet, trusting Coco weeping silently next to me, and suddenly feel so furious that I want to track Eric down and scream at him. Maybe slap him a few times. It is just not acceptable to take advantage of someone who can’t protect themselves.

  But all I can do is help Coco.

  “And I didn’t have any money for a cab, so I had to get the subway home, and we were in Washington Heights, so it took forever, and everyone was looking at me, and there was this lady with dogs who just kept muttering slut…”

  “Okay,” I say, cutting her off before she can start crying again. “What time is it?”

  “It’s, like, nine,” she says, looking at her watch. “I can’t handle this feeling, Pia. I can’t—”

  “Coco, stop torturing yourself,” I say. “Right this second. Everything is going to be fine.” Kind but firm is the only way to handle this. “Go shower. Put this on afterward.” I hand her my Lancôme Hydra-Intense mask. “It was invented specifically for morning-after-stubble-rash issues. And then we’ll go and get breakfast and talk about it. Everything will be fine.”

  “And get that pill thing,” she adds.

  “And get that pill thing.” I nod. “Remember, this feeling won’t last forever. We all feel bad sometimes, but it goes away. It always goes away. Just tough it out and you’ll be a better and stronger person because of it.”

  “But I really … I thought I loved him.”

  “This isn’t love,” I say to her. “Love is easy. If it’s hard, you’re not doing it right.”

  Do I believe that? What the hell do I know? The only man I’ve ever loved dumped me and told me I should have expected it, that it was practically my fault, in fact. Oh, God, don’t think about Eddie right now.

  “I know.” Coco is finally calming down. “Okay. I’ll go shower.”

  “And remember, you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince. And Coco, there have been a lot of frogs in my life.”

  Giggling, Coco hurries out of my room, and I lie back on the pillow.

  Poor Coco.

  And poor Toto. I really need to fix my battered truck today. Who would do that to her? I need time to figure it out.

  But Coco needs me, too.

  Okay: Toto can wait. After I’ve helped Coco, I’ll call one of the body shops on the other end of Union Street, and see if they can fix Toto.

  I wonder who did it? The Banh Mi Up dude doesn’t know where I live. Madeleine and Mike couldn’t have had the time. (Urgh, I am so not looking forward to seeing Madeleine after last night’s not-quite showdown.) And that leaves Bianca.

  Hmm.

  * * *

  Coco and I are on our way to CVS on Court Street within an hour. It’s unusually warm, and I’m wearing a short, flippy coral skirt, my favorite white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and some tan leather sandals I bought in Greece a few years ago. I’m telling you this because in contrast, Coco is wearing jeans and several layers of long-sleeved tops that she’s pulled over her hands, as though trying to hide from the world.

  “I’m so nervous. How do I ask for it? What will they think?”

  “I guarantee eighteen girls have already bought it this morning, sweetie,” I say. “It’s not a big deal, okay? It’s fine.”

&nb
sp; But as we near the CVS, Coco is actually shaking. “I can’t ask for it. I can’t.”

  “No problem,” I say. “I’ll do it. Just wait here and I’ll be back in five minutes. Okay, honey?”

  I am so damn motherly today, huh?

  I remember the first time I got the morning-after pill. The condom broke. Condoms often break when the guy doesn’t know what he’s doing. A little tip from me to you. Not because their penis is too damn big, whatever the guy might like to think.

  Flashing my most confident smile at the pharmacist, I ask, “Can I get Plan B, please?”

  He hands it over without batting an eyelid. Thank God. One time Angie bought Plan B from a pharmacist wearing a Jesus fish pin, who then started an abstinence lecture, so Angie accidentally-on-purpose knocked over a jar of lip balms.

  After paying, I head back outside to Coco, hiding in a doorway down the street.

  “Hey, presto,” I say.

  “You’re so brave!” She takes the bag like it contains a bomb. “I bet nothing ever scares you.”

  “Let’s get breakfast. You shouldn’t take this on an empty stomach.”

  “Will it make me throw up?”

  I think back to the first time I took it, and the ensuing foamy vomiting storm. The boarding mistress, an evil bitch named Mrs. Ellis, thought I was bulimic or on drugs. She would have really freaked had she known the truth. “Maybe.”

  “Oh, God, smell that.… I haven’t had one in years,” she says longingly as we walk past a Dunkin’ Donuts. “So fattening.”

  I grab her arm and we march in. “You can do whatever you want today.”

  “Isn’t this against the rules of SkinnyWheels, or something?”

  “Everything is fine in moderation. The point of SkinnyWheels is not to be extreme in any direction,” I remind her. “It’s about choice, and balance, and— Hi! I’ll have two large caramel Coolattas and one of those pink frosted doughnuts for me, please, and—Miss Coco?”

  “A Bavarian kreme,” she says instantly.

  “And we’ll also get … you know what, I’ll get a mixed dozen to go, and then five of those chocolate chip cookies.” I turn to Coco. “A little birthday hangover surprise for Jules.”

  “She has such a sweet tooth, just like me,” says Coco.

  “Sweetness means love, isn’t that what you guys always say?”

  “That was our mom’s saying.” Coco shrugs.

  As we leave Dunkin’ Donuts, Coco has something on her mind. She keeps clearing her throat as if to say something, then makes little “mmm” sounds instead. Finally, she spits it out: “When did you take the morning-after pill?”

  “Uh, at college, twice. Just after one-night things … And once at boarding school.”

  “You went to a lot of high schools, right?”

  “I did,” I say. Suddenly, for the first time in my entire life, I feel like talking about it. Maybe hearing about someone else’s poor decision-making skills will make Coco feel better. “I was expelled twice. The first time was for cheating. I was too scared to go home to my parents with a bad report card, so I cheated on a math final and was caught. And the second time I was kicked out for, um, for coke.”

  Coco is shocked. “You were a drug addict?”

  I almost laugh. “No! I was stupid, that’s all. I was hanging out with seniors, my boyfriend Jack was kind of wild, you know, and everyone was doing it.… So I agreed to keep all the coke in my dorm room. He said since I was younger and new, they’d never search my room … but they did. And that was that.”

  “That’s so unfair.”

  “It was my fault. Wasn’t thinking about consequences.” I pause, lost in thought. “I hate the girl who did those things. Hate her.”

  “Was Jack the guy you got the morning-after pill with? Was he your first?”

  “My first what? Oh! No, that was Eddie. He went to my last boarding school. Eddie was my first—only—serious boyfriend. Jack was just using me for a bit of fun.”

  “What happened with Eddie?”

  “Dumped me.” I can’t bear to tell her all the details.

  “Men are such cockmonkeys.”

  “They can be.” Suddenly, I think about Mike. I slept with him and then basically ignored him. Just like Eric did to Coco. What does that make me?

  “I don’t think you should have been expelled,” says Coco, linking her arm through mine. “You’re such a good person. One of the best people I know. I always feel better about things when I’m with you. They should have been proud to have you at their schools.”

  I smile at her, my vision suddenly blurring. Goddamnit, the someone’s-being-nice-to-me tears strike again.

  We pass Carroll Park. “Let’s go in here and sit down.”

  “Okay!”

  I have the feeling that no matter what I suggest, she’ll say “Okay!” in that cheery little voice.

  “Well, all riiiiight,” says a Texan voice I recognize. Jonah! Sprawled out on the ground next to his bike and a Dunkin’ Donuts bag, wearing hot pink Crocs.

  “Are you wearing those ironically?” I ask. “Because it’s not obvious enough.”

  “They make my feet happy, princess,” he says, grinning up at me.

  “You remember Coco, right?” I say.

  “I sure do,” he says. “Miss Coco, you sit down here and let’s talk about doughnuts.”

  Coco immediately drops to the ground next to him. Everyone seems to feel instantly at ease with Jonah. I wonder if it’s the Texan accent.

  “Vanilla kreme with frosting?” He holds out his bag to Coco.

  “I’ve got a Bavarian kreme,” she says happily. “I used to like vanilla kreme, too, but then…”

  And off they go, chatting away about fillings and frostings. Closing my eyes, I turn my face up to feel the sun’s warmth. It’s shining so brightly, it feels like it could be midsummer instead of fall.

  I finish my doughnut and tune back into the conversation. “… and then we went to karaoke, and then Pia came home and found someone trashed Toto!”

  “No way,” Jonah says. “Man, that bites. Who would do that to you?”

  “Yeah, who knows…” I say. I’m pretty sure it’s Bianca skank-face wreaking revenge for my revenge, but I’m not about to say that until I’m sure.

  “One of my buddies has a pal who works in a body shop. I’ll call him, we can fix this.”

  “It’s okay, I’m on it,” I say. “Just because I’m twenty-two and a girl doesn’t make me an idiot.”

  “Really?” he says doubtfully. “I’m not so sure about that.” I throw a piece of doughnut at him and he catches it in his mouth. “Dude, I can take care of it for you.”

  “Thanks, but I can take care of it for myself,” I say. “My business, my problem.”

  “Hey! I’m still totally into that Bee Whisperer idea. You know, starting my own business, being my own boss.… When can you help me?”

  “Anytime,” I say. “What have you done for it so far?”

  “Uh … nothin’,” he says, laughing. “You know me, baby. I’m a laid-back kinda guy.”

  “I think you have to be a little bit obsessive about starting your own business, Jonah,” I say. “No one’s going to make your dreams come true except you.”

  Wow, that was pretty deep of me.

  “That sounds like hard work,” says Jonah.

  That’s exactly what I would have thought a few months ago. But I’ve been consumed with SkinnyWheels for weeks now. If I hadn’t been, it would never have gotten off the ground. And I’ve loved every minute. “It doesn’t feel like hard work when it’s your passion.”

  Suddenly, and for maybe the first time ever, Jonah looks serious. “Well, the only passion I have is acting, dude.”

  “Then that should be your focus. Okay, stick a fork in me, I’m done,” I say, standing up and brushing doughnut crumbs off my body. “Toto ain’t gonna fix herself.”

  Jonah grins at me, and winks at Coco. “Later, alligators.”


  Coco grabs my arm with glee as we leave Carroll Park. “He’s cuuuute!”

  CHAPTER 19

  “Morning, kids,” says Angie, walking into the living room.

  “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon,” says Julia. “You’re wearing sunglasses inside.”

  “I know. I didn’t get home till six this morning. Oooh, doughnuts. Any double chocolate left?”

  It’s Sunday afternoon and Coco, Julia, and I have been watching E! News, or as Coco simply calls it, “The News.”

  “Look at that woman’s arms. She needs a fucking doughnut.”

  “She looks like a praying mantis,” says Angie, her mouth full.

  Jules shouts with laughter. “She does!”

  “Shh, you guys,” says Coco. I’m trying not to think about Nicky coming over in a few hours, or how much Toto’s afternoon at the body shop cost, or Bianca trashing my truck, or Madeleine being annoyed at me again. But at least I’ve done all my prep for tomorrow’s SkinnyWheels work and updated my Facebook and Twitter accounts.

  Instead, I’m thinking about Aidan, and last night’s cab ride. And Aidan’s smile, and his thighs, and his mouth, and his eyes, and his voice and hands and accent and the way he smirked when we flirted and—

  Shut up, Pia. It doesn’t matter if Aidan liked me. He has a girlfriend. He’s out-of-bounds. Never fall for a guy who is taken. I make a lot of mistakes in life, but I never make that one.… To me, it’s the law. Well, a general rule, anyway. Guideline. Memo. Whatever. It’s a bad idea.

  So why am I considering meeting him for that drink on Thursday?

  My head keeps saying “stupid move” but my heart says “what has your head ever done for you, sweetie?” Anyway, is it your head or your heart you’re meant to trust? I can never remember.

  The presenter is dramatically intoning about some starlet’s drug problem. “Is she headed for a complete meltdown?”

  Coco turns to us, her eyes wide with excited importance. “She totally is!” Coco seems to be over her Plan B/Eric crisis from this morning, or maybe she’s just good at ignoring things she doesn’t want to think about, too.