by Grace, Pella
Chapter Twenty
“Let’s drive.”
“You said you’d work, Cash.”
“If you want a fat paycheck, Honey-girl, I need to think and to do that, I need to drive. It’s where my ideas come from.”
“Driving?”
“I like the speed.”
***
We’re in Cash’s parent’s garage. I have no idea where they are. His classic car is parked alongside a Mercedes. I walk to the driver-side door, but he isn’t headed for this car.
“We aren’t taking your car?”
He opens the door to the Mercedes.
“I want to smoke.”
The keys are in the visor, he swipes them, shoving them into the ignition.
“Are you sure Claude won’t be mad?”
“My dad is always pissed off. It’s part of his DNA. You getting in or should I bring you back a souvenir?”
I climb into the car.
Cash pulls out of the driveway quickly, speeding off with the windows down, lighting a cigarette as we get on the main road.
He pops the CD player on, ejecting the disk his dad had on and hands it to me. Watching the road he scans through stations until something loud with heavy bass captures his attention.
“This song was the shit when I was in middle school,” he says.
“Like a year ago?”
He pinches my cheek and then turns the volume as high as it can go, leaning back onto his seat as we hit the open road. The wind feels amazing against my skin, swirling my hair harshly so I give it a twist, mimicking his position as I press my head into the headrest to relax and enjoy the ride.
We’re twenty songs deep before he pulls to a mom and pop gas station.
We have Snickers and coffee and occasional kisses. We have orange skies and crashing waves. We have intertwined fingers and ten cigarettes less.
We have the windows rolled up and the side of the road. We have no room and not enough hands. We have tender words and dirty mouths. We have sweaty skin and bare chests. We have no need to be quiet or shy.
“You taste like nougat and my Honey-girl.”
I dirty flick my tongue across his.
“You taste like cigarettes and the best, bad idea ever.”
Sharp teeth nip along my jaw as I rock in his lap, swiveling my hips, in love with how he feels buried deep inside.
“Keep doing that shit, Lil.”
I tug on his hair, grinning into his shoulder as his fingers grip my hips.
“Is it giving you ideas?”
“The fucking best.”
I kiss his sweaty skin. I press my forehead to his. I find his arms and silently ask to be held tighter as I work in rhythm with his. I revel in his touch. His hold on the ends of my hair. Soft tugs. Tender needful kisses.
“I love how your body moves.” His teeth grate across my shoulder. “My sky.”
I close my eyes and just feel. Listen to his deep voice whisper into my hair as the atmosphere shifts, the embers of his words flushing my cheeks. A sweat breaking across the skin his lips love upon.
“You’re my sky, Lilla. The colors in the picture. Remember that night?”
“I remember.”
“I saw you. Remember?”
“I remember.”
“Does it still feel like that night, that sky?”
“Better.”
“Better?”
“Better.”
“Better. Fuck, I love you. Remember?”
“I remember.”
He pulls back, cupping my face securely as our hips move quickly, running to the same destination.
“Who loves you?”
“You.”
“Who?”
“You. Cash. You. I love you. Don’t stop.”
“I love you. Who loves you?”
“You.”
“Who?”
“You. I love you. Please don’t stop. More. Please.”
“I fucking love you.”
“I love you.”
“Beautiful Lilla, baby don’t stop. Don’t stop, Lilla.”
“Don’t stop.”
“Who’s my sky?”
“Me.”
“Who’s my sky?”
“Me. Lilla’s your sky.”
“You want more?”
“More. Please.”
“More?”
“More.”
“More.”
“Please. Please. Please.”
“Who loves his sky?”
“Me. No … You …” I lose the fight as my brain runs away from me, a high-pitched ringing in my ears taking over as I grip his shoulders.
“You. You. You.”
***
“Where are we going?” I ask Cash.
“I want to get my CD from Heath’s house. He stole it.”
“Oh.”
“It’ll only take a second.”
He parks. I follow him up the steps as we reach the third floor of an apartment building. Cash knocks.
“Fuck, I hope he has clothes on.”
We laugh as the door opens.
“Sha-bah!” A large white man with a curly brown wig opens the door. “Hey, it’s my bitches Cash and Lilla.”
“Give me my CD back, bastard.”
“Come in. We were just about to start the party.”
“Lilla and I have shit to do. I just want my CD back.”
“Aw, come on. You wouldn’t insult Rick James, now would ya?”
“How do you go from knocking like Pee-wee Herman to wearing a wig like Rick James? Exactly how much crack did your mom do when you were in utero, dude?”
“Don’t talk about Rick James’ mama, bitch.”
“Can I just have my CD?”
Heath pulls the wig off, finally using his normal voice.
“Kid Cudi?”
Cash nods, annoyed, but amused. I’m gathering they do this a lot. He disappears for a second and then comes back with a plastic case.
“I could sweeten the deal for a twenty.”
“Nah, I’m good with just getting cancer. I prefer to keep my brain cells.”
“Lilla?” he looks at me and I shake my head.
The wig goes back on, the odd voice returns.
“Rick James is highly insulted you won’t smoke the ickiest of the stickiest with him. Goodnight, bitches.”
The door slams closed and Cash just shakes his head, gathering my hand into his.
“At least he had clothes on,” I smile.
“Thank God. I’m not sure I could handle seeing Rick James’ Schweddy Balls.”
PART TEN
CASH
Chapter Twenty-One
“Move your hand up and down,” I tell Lilla. “Hold it really tight. Squeeze, baby. We’re gonna do this shit really fast.”
“Got it.”
“Ready?”
“Mm hmm.”
I love her giggles before we start. My hand squeezes around hers. The music starts and I move her arm up and down to match the speed of the beat. Fucking paint splatters everywhere and she laughs, ducks, wants to get away, but nope. No way.
“You wanted to work, Lilla. We’re working.”
“You’re the painter,” she wiggles. The sound of her laughter has me high. Her head falling backwards against my chest.
We stop as the music does.
Lilla sits forward, examining what we created.
“It’s …”
“Ugly as fuck,” I say.
“No,” she shakes her head, laughing. “Well, yeah. Sort of.”
“Kick your foot through the damn thing and we’ll call it Life After Adam.”
She shoves against me, but it’s playful.
“Give me your hand,” she requests.
Blue paint is slathered on my palm, and then she presses her hand inside, stamping the color to her skin before she lays it on the canvas.
“Put yours somewhere.”
Her blue hand is in the middle. I was going to put mine bes
ide hers. I choose to cover it instead, laying my hand over her small imprint. When I peel my hand away, there she is. Surrounded by yours truly.
She rests against me. “Good choice.”
“I agree.”
“Except now we look like Smurfs.” Her blue fingers wiggle in the air.
“Go wash your hands, Lil.” I kiss her head. “I have to get ready. My dad might implode if I dip out on him, again.”
“Okay.”
I kiss her again.
“You can stay and play if you want. Just don’t go snooping through all my shit.”
“Are there more dolls?” she asks.
“Yes. I am a secret collector of Barbie dolls. Oh, the scandal.”
“Truth be told, I have to get serious and start looking for a place, Cash. As much fun as play time has been.”
“You have paint all over your face. You look like a speckled Robin Egg.”
“I used to love those candies,” she says smiling.
“They still make them.”
“You think I don’t know this, Warren?”
My smile is the only reply before I head off to shower.
***
“Cash or credit?”
The woman smiles. “Cash.”
And this is usually where I would smile too. Not today. Not now. She’s wondering why.
“Twenty-two fifty-six,” I repeat, waiting for her money.
“I thought that …”
“Different day different meanings, Doll. Twenty-two fifty-six, please.”
She hands over her money and grabs her shit after I give her the correct change, offering nothing else.
“Dude, what is up with you?” Heath slides onto the checkout across from me. “You’ve turned down new-face Mary and now Holly? I thought you didn’t smoke dope.”
“I don’t. Just like I don’t cheat on Lilla.”
He tosses an orange in his palm. “I thought that chick was married.”
I shrug, “They broke up.”
Heath’s eyes widen. “You broke up her marriage?”
“My dick is magical, Heath. What can I say.”
He shakes his head. “So that’s it? No more Cash? I have to go back to using your real name. Do you ever think about your friends before you make these decisions?”
“I’m so sorry you have to act mature for five seconds.”
“Wow. Cash in a committed relationship. I wonder how Lilla’s husband feels about this news.”
I toss the pen from the register at him. “Fuck off.”
“I’m just saying, dude. That’s some dangerous territory, my friend. If Lilla was yours and a guy tried to scoop her up, you really think you’d just lay down and let her walk over you?”
“There’s a serious flaw in that, Heath.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like, the small factor where if Lilla was my wife, I wouldn’t fucking ignore her all the time and treat her like garbage. And you know—the whole knocking a motherfucker out if he came within fifteen feet of her and was anything like me.”
“So you did break up their marriage.”
“I like to consider it the Kiss of Death.”
“You’re an asshole,” he laughs.
“I’m Cash, baby.”
“Nah—” He slides from the checkout. “Cash died the day Lilla started rummaging through your cucumber box. Or … maybe it’s the other way around.”
“Don’t talk about my woman’s cucumber box, Heath.”
He tosses the orange at me and walks off. I’m about to go back to stocking the frozen food section, but another person walks up. My insides curl.
A gallon of Rocky Road is tossed onto the belt.
Our eyes stay locked on each other. I don’t want to do this here. I don’t want to bring my shit to my parent’s business. I play it cool. Maybe he won’t remember. Yeah. I took his woman. Of course he does.
“Find everything alright, sir?” I pass the ice cream over the scanner. He remains silent. I hit total. “Four even.”
Adam is just staring at me.
I don’t want to do this.
Not here.
I toss his ice cream in a bag.
“You don’t wanna do this here, Adam. Trust me.”
“Funny words.”
“Four bucks, man.”
“I didn’t come here for damn ice cream, kid.”
He’s really pissing me off. If he’s got something to say … “Whatever you have to say to me, honestly, I don’t give a shit. You were married to Lilla. Not me. Your grief is with her. I’m just some dude who ended up with her.”
“No, you’re just some punk kid who talks about my wife like she’s a toy when she’s not around. I heard what you said to your friend. Lilla know you talk like that?”
“I didn’t say shit about Lilla, except that I’d protect her. I’m not her, dude. You can’t mind-fuck me. Four bucks or I’m hitting void. Shit is melting.”
Adam digs in his pocket, a laugh leaving him as he tosses a twenty at me.
“Yeah—I guess this place needs as many sales as possible, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t want you losing your precious job. Not with a Lilla that needs supporting.”
I press the keys, ignoring his mouth. Using my brain, not my ego. I know he’s just fucked in the head right now. Rightfully so. I’d be knocking the shit out of him if this situation were reversed. Not that it would ever happen to me.
“When this place gets turned into a shopping center,” Adam says, “I wonder if you’ll put her out on the street, working for the money like the whore you’ve turned her into.”
I slam the till closed. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“Well good for you. At least she means something.”
“You have no idea what my feelings for Lilla are, but let’s put it this way; if she meant a breath to you, what she does to me, this conversation wouldn’t be taking place. Here’s your change, Adam. Have a nice day.”
“You can keep it. I’ll write it off as a charitable donation, kid. Maybe keep you employed one more day. It’s about how much you make in a shift, right?”
“Actually, my parents own this store. So, no. This isn’t even my real job.”
“Ohhh let me guess. You’re really a musician or an actor, right?”
“An artist, if you’d really like to know who’s fucking your wife.”
That did it. I’m an asshole. It’s my stupid twenty-four-year-old ego. I’ll apologize for it later.
“How adorable. I’m sure Lilla will appreciate your drawings on the cardboard box you all will be living in when Lockhart tears this place to the ground.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh,” he grins, “I guess your daddy hasn’t told you then. Yeah—you see, kid—in the big boy world there’s this thing called paying your debt and when that debt isn’t paid, a guy like myself comes along to make sure someone does. In big boy language, we call that a repossession or foreclosure or, well, you get my point.
“But in case that was too many big words for you, let me break it down into simple terms. Your daddy borrowed money, didn’t pay and my company resold the building to the highest bidder.
“At the end of the month, this place will no longer exist. I’m pretty sure Lockhart gave the ad campaign to Lilla, right? Well, isn’t that ironic—her selling away your family’s hopes and dreams, marketing the building that your daddy gave his whole life to, to become some shit shopping mall where they will probably sell crap made in China.”
Adam scoops up his bag.
“I will take this, on second thought, considering it will be the last time I can ever enjoy your family’s secret recipe. I always enjoyed this flavor.”
He walks off, glancing once over his shoulder before sliding through the automatic doors.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I close the door quietly, upon entering my apartment and take in my surroundings. My stereo is on low. The overwhelming aroma of spice and tomato calls to my stomach. I see
her from behind, working at the stove.
Bare feet. Same dress from the movie theater. Still.
I drop my keys to the table and when I reach her, place my head silently against her back. She reaches to me, giving a scratch over her shoulder, but keeps working.
“Did you know?”
“Know what, Love Lump?”
“Don’t fuck with me right now, Lilla.”
Her posture stiffens. A spoon taps and a nervous girl turns around.
“What’s wrong?”
“Did you or didn’t you know about Adam buying the grocery store? Yes or no. It’s as simple as simple fucking gets, Lilla.”
“N-no. What? What do you mean he bought the store?”
I push away from the kitchen and I just don’t fucking know. My hands need to break something. Anything. Many things.
I pace.
“Cash?”
I spin, gunning for the wrong person.
“How could you not have known, Lilla?”
Speaking too harshly to the wrong person.
“You’re his motherfucking wife. How could you not know?”
Yelling at the wrong damn person.
“Is that what this was all about to you? A fucking game? This isn’t a game. This is my fucking life. This is my family’s motherfucking life.”
Her eyes blink spastically. Disbelief. Yeah I’m sorry, baby. I’m an asshole and I’m sorry. You’re just here. You’re just fucking here.
“Calm down and talk to me. I don’t even know what you’re saying. Why do you think Adam bought the store?”
“Because he fucking stood in front of me—plain as day—and told me so. Our fucking project? The shopping mall bullshit? Valentine’s is the location.”
“What? No it isn’t. Melanie said the mall was going to be in Blossom County.” She swallows. “Adam must be messing with you.”
I step towards her. “How does he know the store was in financial trouble? Did you tell him?”
“No. But it’s his business. He must read—I don’t know—hundreds of records a day? He must have run across your last name and connected the two. I didn’t know it was being sold any more than you did.”
“He’s your husband. How could you not know?” I repeat.
“I think the fact that I’m here, homeless in your apartment, tells that story.”
