Caribou Island

19

Rhoda decided to go with her parents to Anchorage. I can skip work, she told Jim. I need to be there for my mom.

Okay, he said.

I’ll be back tomorrow. We’re staying the night.

So after Rhoda left, Jim picked up Monique at the King Salmon Hotel and brought her back to the house. She was wearing jeans and boots, her old down jacket. Sat on a bar stool and looked at what would have been a view if not for the sky.

Seems like you could use a new jacket, Jim said.

It was my dad’s.

Oh.

It’s fine, she said. I don’t care. Just a little nostalgia. We’re allowed a little bit.

Yeah, Jim said.

I’m bored out of my mind, Monique said. I think I have to go back to D.C. There is nothing here.

I’m here.

Yeah.

That didn’t sound good.

I’m just bored. Maybe I’ll take a bath.

So Jim pouted on the couch while she took a bath. She was in there for over an hour. He thought about sex the whole time, pretty much, and when she came out, she seemed brighter. She wore a white towel on her head, nothing else. Long and perfect. She walked over and sat on an ottoman, back straight, and he was thinking that even her posture showed class.

I’ve never been paid for sex, Monique said. The idea of being paid is kind of turning me on. I think I might do things I wouldn’t otherwise do, too, and that turns me on even more.

Money? Jim asked.

Yeah, money. That’ll make it interesting, I think. It has to be a decent amount, though. Go get five thousand in hundreds. That will get me through the afternoon, I think.

Five thousand?

Go now, she said. And get me some ice cream. New York Superfudge Chunk. And whatever you want. Food sex, bondage, toys, costumes, kinky shit, whatever floats your boat. Make it interesting. And bring more cash if you want tonight too.

Are you serious?

Are you over forty? Am I twenty-three? Do you have a muffin top? Did I shave?

You don’t have to put it like that.

Wake the fuck up.

I don’t think I like this.

Then why do you have a boner just looking at me? I think you like it. And I think we’ll start today by parading you around in a dog collar. You’re going to crawl around and beg before I let you start paying me. Don’t come back without a dog collar.

What the fuck?

Fine, she said. I’m getting dressed. And she walked back into the bedroom.

What’s happening here? Jim asked.

I’m getting dressed, Monique said. Then we’re driving to the bank, where you’ll get me five thousand, then to my hotel to pick up my stuff, maybe the campground, though I’ll probably skip that, then to the airport where you’ll buy a ticket. We can have lunch at the airport if you like. But I’m leaving this shithole.

I’m not doing that. He was standing in the bedroom doorway now, watching her put on panties, bra, jeans.

Then I’m telling Rhoda everything, she said.

That’s blackmail.

Not really. I’m a trust fund brat. I don’t need money. I don’t ever need to work, in fact, which is my own cross to bear, something you wouldn’t understand. It turns out it sucks. But this is just teaching you a lesson. You didn’t seem to realize what you had here, so I’m helping you realize that.

You can walk to the airport, Jim said.

The price just went up to ten thousand.

Jim was so angry he wanted to kill her. The first time in his life he felt this. She wasn’t even upset. Just putting on her boots like nothing was happening. Like he was nothing.

She looked up and smiled at him. Fists, she said. Are you thinking of hitting me? Would it make you feel better to fight? She stood up, smiling bigger now, and took a couple steps forward then kicked him, too fast for him to do anything about it. Her long leg out straight, her boot in his stomach, and he was falling backward into the hallway. He curled up and couldn’t breathe.

She stepped over him. I’ll be in the car.