We split up, going through the apartment like we were agents searching the place. I went into the kitchen and looked under the sink, in the broiler, even in the microwave. I checked the breadbox on top of the fridge, the freezer, the crisper. I opened all the cupboards, top and bottom. I checked our big soup pot and peeked in the slots of the toaster. I started going through the food, ignoring the boxes I was already using. There was nothing big enough really. There wasn’t room in the silverware drawer, and the bottom ones were full of old ice trays and place mats, things we didn’t use. Where the counter turned, there was this lazy Susan we kept the cereal on. I didn’t even have to spin it around; right in front were two family-size boxes of Lamont’s Cap’n Crunch.
In her book, Natalie makes it sound like the stupidest place in the world to hide nine thousand dollars. She makes it into a joke on me. She says her and Lamont knew all about my pints, they just didn’t want to get into it with me right then. She says they weren’t sure about the Cap’n Crunch from the beginning.
They didn’t say a thing about it at the time though. They heard me and came into the kitchen from the other rooms and laughed at the boxes.
“What do you think?” I said.
Lamont picked one up and looked into the mouth of it, then held them together.
“Sure,” he said, and smiled so he showed his fangs. “It’ll fit.”
50
No, but Lamont almost caught us once. It was that last week before we had to leave the city. Natalie had switched shifts, so we only had the mornings together. We were doing things I’d never done with anyone before. It made you feel new, like you’d changed or won something big.
I was tied up facedown, blindfolded with this choke collar on. It was like the beginning of Gerald’s Game; I love that part. Natalie had her backpack next to the bed. She was pulling things out at random and making me name them.
“The blue one,” I said. “The curved thingy. The one with all the knobs.”
She jerked the collar and lifted me off the bed.
“Who do you love?” she said.
“You,” I said.
“Why?”
I hesitated so she could yank the chain.
“Because you’re the best.”
“Louder,” she said, and when I went to shout, she jerked the chain tight. She let me cough it out before starting again. She reached underneath and lifted me up on my knees. “This might hurt a little,” she said, “so just relax.”
It was the double one, I could feel the ridges like veins. The top one pinched a little and I let out a grunt. She jerked the chain and pushed.
“Tell me it,” she said.
“I love you,” I said, but it came out a groan.
Just then a set of keys jingled in the hall. It stopped us. Natalie’s breath was warm on my neck.
A key crunched in the lock.
Natalie popped out of me and tore at the bra knotted around my ankle.
The door opened and caught on the chain.
“Open up,” Lamont called. “It’s me.”
Natalie ripped my blindfold off and started on my wrists. The double wiggled like a dog’s. She got me free and I threw a robe on while she slipped into the bathroom with the backpack.
Lamont banged the door.
“Just a minute!” I called. Natalie had the bathroom door closed and the water going. On the way through the living room I took a look in the mirror. I closed my robe to hide the collar marks. I’d say the lines on my face were just from being asleep.
“What do you guys do,” Lamont said, “sleep all day?”
“Shush,” I said. “You’re going to wake up Gainey. He’s been a bear all morning.”
“Nat just getting up?”
“She’s been up,” I said. “She’s making herself beautiful for work.”
He’d forgotten an article from Muscle Car Monthly on restoring the doors on old Cougars. The guys at the shop were thinking of buying one from Texas. He poked around the living room until he found it. At the door he gave me a kiss and a squeeze through my robe.
“I love you,” he said.
And I said, “I love you too.”
I put the chain on the door and looked out the peephole. When I knocked on the bathroom door, Natalie unlocked it. She’d taken the double off and was washing it in the sink. You could see the lines the straps left.
“Come on,” I said. “He’s gone.”
“No,” she said, like the moment was over. I kissed her but she held me off. “I’ve got to get ready for work.”
“Nat,” I whined.
“I know. But we don’t have time to do it right. We’ll have all morning tomorrow.”
“Promise,” I said, and she did, but that didn’t help me now. When she was gone I took her backpack into the bedroom and threw the covers off.
She liked scaring me. We’d be fixing dinner with him right in the living room playing with Gainey, and she’d slip her hand up under my skirt or kiss me. Once she stuck her fingers in me while I was brushing my teeth. All I could do was give her a look.
I don’t think he suspected, because right then we—Lamont and me—were getting closer that way. I don’t know if it was guilt or him getting off on the deal or just me being fired up from Natalie, but we started doing new things too. I pretended they were completely new to me. I even said no a few times before giving in. It was strange; he was more fun now, he was better. It was like being with Natalie made being with him easier.
51
No, my mom never met her. Natalie spoke to her on the phone, but just to answer it and get me. My mom didn’t understand why she was living with us.
“She’s a friend,” I said.
“Of whose?” my mom said, and when I didn’t answer, she said, “I’m just asking.”
The fact that Natalie had been in prison worried her.
“Hey, remember me?” I said. “I was there too.”
“And I’m sure her mother’s worried.”
“They don’t talk.”
“Why not?” she said, like it was all Natalie’s fault.
“They don’t have the greatest relationship,” I said. “Not like us.”
52
Every other week. Either I took the Roadrunner over to Kickingbird Circle or she came and picked me up outside. She’d bought a Grand Safari wagon even though she didn’t have anything to haul around in it. We were getting along because Lamont had taken Gainey to see her a lot while I was away. Gainey still couldn’t speak, but whenever he saw her, he lunged for her front. She never apologized for the accident, and she never talked about me being arrested. It was like we just hadn’t seen each other in a while.
But it was like that before too. Sometimes I’d think she might change, but she never did, she just listened to the radio and did her gardening and picked up the Popsicle wrappers the kids dropped out front. Every time I came home, the pictures on the mantel were the same, in the exact same places. You knew they moved because she dusted but that was about it. I’d always be that little girl on the tricycle. My father would always be kneeling beside Jody-Jo. She’d always hate me for turning into the person I was instead of going off to college and becoming someone smart who could talk to her about politics and those English detective shows.
But every time I came home I thought things might be different. It only took a few minutes to find out I was wrong. “You’re not going to the mall in that,” she’d ask, or “Don’t you think it might be better to buy him one with an elastic waistband?” When it came to real things, we barely talked anymore. “Well, I can’t tell you what to do,” she’d say, and I’d make a joke, and she’d misunderstand and say something mean and we’d ride along in silence. Driving home, I’d smoke up a storm. It was just a waste of time.
53
Lamont was supposed to meet with the guy on Friday. I honestly don’t remember his name. They were going to meet at the Wagon Wheel Motel in Bethany sometime during the day. It was on Route 66 too. It had
a sign shaped like a covered wagon; at night the neon made the wheels move. Lamont would have the money in the Cap’n Crunch boxes in a brown bag like he’d just bought them at Albertson’s. He’d planned the whole trip there and back on the map even though it was only like twenty minutes.
At home we’d step on the stuff—just a touch—then weigh it out. We were going to try not to party. Natalie had a bunch of buyers lined up. Saturday she and Lamont would go over to Oklahoma Baptist and get rid of almost half of it. The rest of the people involved Lamont knew from work. Everything had already been set up face to face, no phone calls. By Monday night we’d be done with it. Tuesday we’d pay the loan off and still have three thousand of our own free and clear.
I remember all week Lamont wouldn’t get high, not even a single Miller. In bed I tried to distract him but he couldn’t relax. Later he’d wake me up with his twitching, and in the morning we were tired. You could see him thinking about it while he ate his Cap’n Crunch, his eyes bouncing around the kitchen, figuring out what could go wrong.
“Is all of this worth it?” I asked him.
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” he said. “You don’t have to do anything.”
“No,” I said, “I just have to live with you.”
We both apologized later, but the apartment was like that for a while. You didn’t want to be there. Even Natalie got weird about me drinking her orange juice. Tuesday we had a fight and instead of making love we sat on the couch watching “Let’s Make a Deal.” Neither of us even laughed when it came on. Lamont got home late; he’d cut his thumb and had to get stitches. At supper I had to cut his enchiladas. “That’s good enough,” he said, and waved my hand away. When my mom called to see if I wanted to go Christmas shopping at the mall on Thursday, I was like, yes, get me out of here.
54
Everything happened Thursday.
We got up like usual—first me, to take care of Gainey, then Lamont, so he could use the shower first. Natalie made breakfast in her terry-cloth thingy—huevos rancheros; she was on this Mexican kick. We didn’t say anything about tomorrow being the big day. It was quiet, which wasn’t like us. Usually we’d at least fight.
Lamont took the Roadrunner and left me the car seat. He wanted to get the engine tuned up for tomorrow. Natalie and me didn’t do anything. She left for work early, and barely kissed me. It was like there wasn’t room for anything else in our minds.
I changed Gainey and waited for my mom to pull up out front in the Grand Safari. She wouldn’t even come in, all she did was honk. It was a little cool because I remember putting a hooded sweatshirt on Gainey. I dropped my keys while I was locking the door, and when I bent down to pick them up I bumped the side of Gainey’s head on the knob. He let loose right in my ear, and all the way outside I was apologizing and kissing his boo-boo.
“Crocodile tears?” my mom said. She had a dress on, and gold braid earrings, and I felt bad that I was in my jeans.
“I wish,” I said, clicking Gainey in. The part that buckled was crusted with something pink, and I thought, there’s just one more thing.
“So,” my mom said, “any big plans for the weekend?”
“Nope,” I said. “How about you?”
She was hoping we could look for a blazer for Gainey. Navy, maybe green, she said. Something Christmasy. It was a big mission for her, like he’d be missing out on something if he didn’t have one. She knew all about them. You couldn’t trust their sizes; it was something he’d have to try on. At that point I wasn’t going to argue with her. It was just good to be out of the house. I figured the odds of her getting in another accident were humongous, but I still made sure I didn’t have anything on me. We passed Moxie’s with its sign like a bunch of clouds and a burger with angel’s wings playing a harp. I pointed for Gainey to look, but it was crowded and I didn’t see Natalie gliding beneath the canopy.
Quail Springs was jammed. They were building the North Pole across from the escalators. A security guard in a brown uniform was standing at the top, making me paranoid. We couldn’t eat lunch first or Gainey would be covered with stuff, so we went and tried on blazers for about an hour. I looked at the price tag of one and laughed and said we couldn’t afford it.
“Don’t worry about that,” my mom said. “It’s going to be a present from his gram.”
From then on she didn’t let me look at the tags, and after a while I just gave in.
Finally we got a red one from Toddlin’ Town. It made Gainey look like a game-show host. I stood there while my mom paid with plastic, and outside I thanked her.
“Don’t force it,” she said, then stopped and sighed. “I do appreciate it though.”
It was like an apology. Neither of us knew what to say. We stood there with the rest of the shoppers streaming past us, like a wreck on the interstate.
“Now,” she said, “where should we eat?”
We had Chick-Fil-A. While we were eating I noticed a knot behind Gainey’s ear. My mom parted his hair to check it out.
“He’ll be fine,” she said. “They’re tough.”
We looked through the Evelyn & Crabtree and the Laura Ashley store and bought Gainey a cookie from the lady with the cart. The blood pressure mobile was out in the lot with KOMA, and the Heart Association was giving out balloons. I tied the string around Gainey’s wrist. He flapped his arm like he was trying to get rid of it.
“That wasn’t such a bad day,” my mom said in the car.
“It was good,” I said.
Gainey was between us in the front. I was holding his balloon in my lap so she could see. I was still a little paranoid about her driving, so I was helping her.
“You can get over,” I said. “You’re fine on my side.”
“Thank you,” she said.
At this point we were just trying to get home before the spell wore off.
We were coming up on Moxie’s, the long strip with Jimmy’s Egg and La Roca and Arlene’s Creamy Whip. In between them were a bunch of old motels with cracked swimming pools and blinking neon arrows. At night the place looked like Vegas; now it just looked sooty.
“Okay,” I told Gainey, “look for Aunt Natalie.”
It wasn’t crowded at all, which made sense, since it was only four-thirty. The right side was empty, but out front there were two or three cars, one of them a pretty rare Corvair—a Corsa convertible. A carhop stiff-armed the door and skated out with a tray, but she was small and dark. I turned to see if Natalie was on the other side of the building, not expecting anything, and there, parked in the farthest spot beneath the canopy, was a yellow Roadrunner.
I twisted in my seat to make sure I was seeing it right—the black stripes and the dog dish hubcaps I’d polished myself, the dual exhausts. There it was, just sitting back by the dumpster, the windows so dark you couldn’t see in.
“She there?” my mom said.
“No,” I said, trying to sound normal.
“She’s probably taking a break. Did I ever tell you I did some waitressing?”
“No.”
“Oh,” she said, “way back. I think every woman should. It really teaches you a lot about people.”
“It does,” I said. “It sure does that.”
She wouldn’t stop talking. I held on to the balloon, wanting to pop it, watching the traffic flash by. She could get in an accident now, it didn’t matter to me. I kept seeing the Roadrunner sitting under the canopy, it was stuck in my mind. Already I was trying to come up with excuses for them, like they needed to talk about tomorrow, or one of her buyers fell through. I tried to picture them the way—
What do you want?
Hang on a second.
Yes, I want to see her.
Sorry. Sister Perpetua just checked in at the front gate, so I’m going to have to cut this short. Let me just give you the essentials of what happened next.
So we’re driving home and Gainey’s asleep. We take the turn onto our street, and right in front of Casa Mia is
this cop car. It’s just sitting there, there’s nobody in it.
“I wonder what that’s all about,” my mom said.
“Probably nothing,” I said, because I just wanted her to leave.
I unbuckled the whole car seat so I wouldn’t wake up Gainey. My mom handed me the blazer.
“Sure you can handle all that?” she said.
I thanked her—and I really did this time, even if I was impatient. And she could tell too. She waved as she pulled away. I didn’t know it then, but that was the last time I’d see her until my trial.
I had to put Gainey’s seat on the ground to get my key out. Inside, I could hear voices upstairs—Mrs. Wertz and some man—and I wondered if they’d raided our apartment, if I should book it out of there right now. It was just one cop car; I was being paranoid. And where was I going to run with a baby in a car seat?
Mrs. Wertz and this big cop were in the hall on our floor. Mrs. Wertz was in her socks. As soon as she saw us, she started walking over to me.
“There you are, Marjorie,” she said, and put her arms out like she was going to hug me. I was still holding Gainey, so she grabbed my wrists. “Someone broke into your apartment.”
“What?”
“It appears they picked the lock,” the cop said, all official.
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Wertz said. “I was here all day and I didn’t hear anything.”
This whole time I was moving toward the door. The cop finally stood aside.
“They made a bit of a mess,” he said. “I’d say it was kids.”
From the doorway you could see they’d pulled the couch out. The cushions were thrown around, leaning against things. I put Gainey down and went in. The cop was right behind me.
The stereo was gone, and the TV, even the cable box. There were 8-tracks all over the place, and Lamont’s hot-rod magazines. They’d taken Natalie’s backpack and emptied it onto the carpet. Mrs. Wertz and the cop were pretending they hadn’t seen anything.
The Speed Queen Page 13
