The Hard Bounce

Chapter Eight

After Dog’s revelation, the three of us ripped into a bender that would have made Keith Moon blush. The rest of the night is piecemeal. I don’t remember getting a cab, but I remember the driver pulling over so I could puke. I don’t remember getting out of the cab, but I recall vomiting hugely into the bushes in front of my apartment. The hippie was on the steps smoking a joint the size of a burrito. I started vomiting off the porch and he was gone. Then his hand was on my shoulder, his other offering me a bottle of water. The unexpected kindness brought drunken tears to my eyes. I remember hugging him.

My last memory is of opening the book under my bed and unfolding the piece of paper. Tracing the outline of my one and only valuable. A flake of dry crayon fell off the picture onto the floor, crumbling into dust. The color remained on the old manila, the ghost of the crayon’s touch seeped deep into the rough paper.

The Boy sat on the bed next to me, shirtless, a monstrous scar curled down his sternum to his navel. I didn’t look at him, but I knew he was there, knew what the scar looked like.

The Boy sniffled, his breaths becoming hitched. I knew he was crying, tears streaming down his wide face.

He wanted me to hold his hand and cry with him, but I didn’t.

I can’t.

I won’t.

I lay down and closed my eyes tight, waiting for his crying to stop.

Next thing, it was afternoon.

Junior and I didn’t do much detective work that day. It was hard enough to keep my apartment from dancing a tango around me. A whole day slipped away. Later that night, I remembered to check my answering machine. No beeps. No business. No messages from Kelly or Barnes. No lunch date offers from Paul. Not even a telemarketer. I ripped the machine off my table and threw it into the wall. It detonated in an explosion of black plastic and circuits like I’d stuffed a cherry bomb into it. A whole fucking day wasted.

Dog said nobody in Vice knew Snake’s real name since he was careful not to show his face in any of the videos. Only the faces of the girls.

It now looked like Cassandra was in real danger. And we’d responded to the newfound urgency by incapacitating ourselves for a day and a half. Some rescuers we were turning out to be.

Four days since I’d first met Kelly and Barnes. And there I was.

Without a goddamn thing.

Around midnight my phone rang. I was going to let the machine get it. Then I remembered that my machine was strewn all over the kitchen in pieces.

I snatched up the receiver, angry at having my sulking interrupted. “What?” I barked.

“Uh, Boo?”

“What do you want, G.G.?”

“I think you oughta come in.” G.G. was swinging the bouncer shifts for Junior and me while we played private eye. He was a solid guy who could handle himself and the bar. A good part of the reason I gave him the shifts was because he didn’t call me when he was working.

“G.G., I’m really in no mood for the bar tonight. Can’t you take care of whatever it is?” My brain hurt, particularly behind my eyes. Had it been six hours since I took my last Advils?

“There’s a girl here. She’s a mess, man. I mean this chick is lit up like Times Square.”

“Kick her out, then. What’s the problem?” Hell with it. I took two more tablets. Never heard of anybody ODing on Advil.

He paused. “She says she’s waiting for you.”

“What? Me?”

“Says her name’s Kelly.”

That got my attention.

“She a friend of yours?”

“She’s drunk?”

“Smashed. What do you want me to do here?”

“Just keep her corralled. I’ll be right there.”

This I simply had to see.

G.G. was the biggest guy on my payroll. Six-foot-eight and three hundred pounds, he played right tackle for the New Orleans Saints for a season before he got his knee pretzled. He also had the misfortune of being a genuinely nice guy who worked at The Cellar. The man played pro ball against guys who were the size of city busses and hit just as hard. But sixty-five inches and a hundred pounds plus change of Kelly Reese had him in a tizzy. He was sweating like a moose in a sauna.

“Man, thank God you’re here. That is one messed up little white girl.” He pulled a bandanna from his pocket and wiped his forehead.

“Where is she?” I asked, trying to look around his massive frame toward the bar.

“She’s at the bar by the waitress station, sitting with Audrey.”

“With Audrey?” That couldn’t be good.

“Yeah. Fast friends. They were yakking it up when I got here. Audrey’s been keeping her under wraps.” G.G.’s eyes darted back in the direction of the bar. Kelly really had his panties in a bunch.

“How long has she been here?”

“She was here before me.”

“And she’s been drinking with Audrey the whole time?” G.G.’s shift started at eight. That would be at least four hours that Kelly had been at the bar. That amount of time drinking with my girl Audrey would have been a good stretch for hardcore boozers, much less Polly Pureheart.

They sat together in the corner of the bar. In their own way, they could be mistaken for mother and daughter out for a drink.

Or twenty.

Audrey clutched her ever-present Jack and water. Kelly was laughing, a pink martini on the bar in front of her. She was still in her business attire, but she’d lost the jacket amid the rounds. Her white blouse was open a few more buttons than what I believed to be her custom.

Suddenly I understood G.G.’s sweating. What the hell was wrong with the air conditioner? I wondered why no one else was sweating.

Audrey saw me first. She beamed and waved at me to come over. Kelly saw her waving and looked, lifting her chin and giving me a half smile.

Goddamn.

The bartender put a Beam and beer in front of me without asking. Audrey held up her drink. “Willie’s here!” As always, Audrey’s genuine happiness at seeing me made me blush. But still, her calling me Willie in front of Kelly made me wince.

“About time, Willie.” Kelly held up her martini, joining Audrey in the toast. I caught a flash of light pink bra when she lifted her arm. “You taking the night off?”

G.G. wasn’t exaggerating. The girl was plastered. Her eyes looked like a street map of St. Louis. “Boo will do just fine, Ms. Reese.”

“You don’t like it when I call you Willie?” Audrey said in a hurt tone, putting her drink back on the bar.

Dammit, I knew that was going to happen. Everybody’s so goddamn sensitive. “I only like it when you do it, sweetness,” I said, pinching her chubby cheek.

She grinned again and picked her drink back up, motioning for me to do the same. “Don’t be so touchy, ya big Mary.”

“Who? Me? Wait… Mary? What?” My lame attempts to play it off were backfiring. I could feel my ears burning at Audrey’s teasing. Kelly was making another area heat up. Between the two of them, I was getting my ass whipped. Not fun.

“Drink!” Audrey commanded. “You know? I just remembered why I drink.”

I took my cue. “Why’s that?”

Kelly answered in unison with Audrey, both hollering, “Because I fucking like it!”

Audrey squealed with delight as they clinked their glasses and drank. I froze in astonishment. I guess Audrey had been tutoring Kelly. I downed my shot and chased it with my beer. The hair of the dog made me feel a bit better. Kelly was staring at me when I put my glass down.

“What?” I said.

“Surprised?” she asked with that same sly smile.

I looked over at Audrey, who beamed, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Jesus.

“Actually, I am. What brings you to the low-rent part of town?”

“I wanted to see you,” she said, then added hastily, “to find out if you had anything… found out. If you’d found out anything.”

Was that a Freudian or a drunken slip? Either way: Advantage, me.

“Nothing yet,” I lied. No need yet to panic anybody about Snake. Besides, none of this conversation should have been public.

Kelly slurped down to the bottom of her glass. The girl behind the bar heard the telltale sound of an empty glass and looked, but she didn’t come over. She was smart enough to know Kelly was done. I was about done with the evening myself, and I’d just arrived.

“You need a cab?” I offered.

“For what?” she asked. She stared into the empty glass.

“To go home. You’ve had enough.”

“You know? Nobody’s ever said that to me before. You always hear people say that to drunk people in the movies.”

“Do you want me to call you a car or what?”

“I’m not ready to go.”

“I think you are, so come on. I’ll-”

“Call me a cab, you said it twice already. Yadda, yadda, yadda.” She opened and closed her hand in my face with each “yadda.”

Audrey howled like it was the best joke she’d heard all day. “This one’s a pistol, Willie.”

I felt my ears go red again. “Yeah. She’s something.” A pain in my ass.

Kelly leaned in and whispered into my crimson ear, “See? I can be bad, too.”

That was it. I grabbed her roughly by the upper arm and pulled her toward the back. “Hey!” she protested.

“Willie, she was just playing with you,” Audrey yelled. I ignored her. I pulled Kelly into the hallway leading to the back.

Some guy was standing by the metal door yelling into his cell phone. He yelped when I shoved him through the door into the parking lot, then slammed the door behind him. I wheeled on Kelly. Through clenched teeth, I said, “Please. Do me a favor. Take your judgments, roll them up, and jam them up your skirt.”

Shock and adrenaline sobered her up enough to process that I was truly pissed. “What? I-”

“Bad? You’re being bad? What the fuck is that? You see the people out there? They’re not bad. They’re just different from you, and a lot of them are friends of mine. That doesn’t make them bad people. But I’ll tell you what. They’re not a bunch of snobs like you and your fucking yacht-club scene.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Shut up. I’m talking now. You think that if you come in here, lose a couple buttons on your starched shirt, belittle me where I work, and get drunk that you belong here? Well, you don’t, sweetheart. So go back to whatever frat-boy-fuck-bar you picked up your last corporate lawyer boyfriend in.” I started to storm off.

“What about you?” she yelled at my back.

“What?”

“What about you? Do you know me at all? No! You don’t know me at all, but you call me a snob. I’ve never been in a yacht, much less a yacht club, in my life. I work hard to get what little I have, and you’ve judged me worse than I’ve ever judged you. I have never dated a lawyer, and I still came here despite you being nothing but an intimidating jerk to me.”

“I-I have not been intimidating to you.” I realized I didn’t have much of a defense, considering I’d just physically dragged her away from the bar.

“Yes, you have.” She wiggled her finger in my face. “Your whole personality is wrapped around your ability to intimidate people. Well, tough guy, I’m not letting you intimidate me any more.” She whacked me in the chest to drive her point home.

Shit. Suddenly, I was on the defense. Again. “I wasn’t trying to… Besides, who’s hitting who?”

Good one, Boo. I call violence on you!

“Whatsa matter? Am I hurting you?” She whacked me again. “You don’t have to try to intimidate people. It’s who you are. Damn it, you might even be a little attractive if you could just drop the thug act for a couple minutes.”

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. “Look, Kelly-”

She cut off yet another apology by vomiting spectacularly all over my pant leg.

Then… a long moment of horror and silence.

“Oh… my… oh…” she said softly. Then she burped.

I stared numbly at the frothy pink mess all over the front of my pants.

Her barely focused eyes filled with embarrassment. “I-am-so-sorry.”

“You ready to leave now?”

I needed to change my pants in the office for the second time in a week, but I’d forgotten to bring a fresh pair in after the garbage incident. My choices boiled down to dried-up Dumpster juice or fresh puke. I decided to go with the vomit. At least I could wipe most of it off with paper towels. I called a car service to pick up Kelly.

By the time I got back downstairs, Kelly was back at the bar with Audrey. The adrenaline had worn off and she was stone drunk all over again, swaying in a nonexistent breeze.

“You ready?” I asked.

“Mmnyeah. Night, Audrey.” She gave Audrey a big hug.

“Nice to meet you, sweetie. Hope to see you again.” Audrey looked at me around the hug. “Willie, you gonna make sure she gets home safe?”

“I called her a car.”

Audrey’s face turned to a mask of horror. “You are not just going to stick this girl in a car. You are going to take her back to her apartment and make sure she gets in safely.” She punctuated her points by poking a thick finger into my arm. I knew better than to argue with Audrey. God help me if Kelly actually came back to the bar and Audrey found out I’d disobeyed a direct order. “Jesus, whatever happened to chivalry?”

“Fine, fine. I’ll get her home,” I said, defeated in more ways than one.

Kelly turned back to me and smiled. “You are so sweet.” Then she hugged me firmly. I told myself it was just another drunken mood swing. One minute I’m an intimidating jerk, the next I’m the bee’s knees. She held the hug. It felt good. Very good. I tried reciting Red Sox ERAs in my head, but I hadn’t been following the last week or so and my mind froze. I hoped she couldn’t feel my ignorance of current statistics pressing against her leg.

The car was waiting outside by the time I peeled her away from both the bar and Audrey. The driver nervously eyed Kelly as I poured her into the back seat. “Yo! She ain’t gonna puke back there, is she?”

“No,” I said with a certain amount of confidence. “I think she’s empty.”

I managed to haul Kelly up the stairs of her third-floor walk-up without slipping a disk, falling down a flight, or getting puked on again. Considering the way the evening was playing out so far, I marked that on the win column.

As soon as we walked in the door, Kelly ran to the bathroom. I expected to hear more retching, but only heard water running in the sink. Then I heard the brushing of teeth.

A few framed pictures sat on a small unfinished bookcase. Before I realized what I was doing, I checked each photo for a telltale shot of a boyfriend. One picture showed Kelly with an older woman. Another with an older man. Parents, I figured. None of the three together. Probably divorced. A couple group pictures had guys in them, but she didn’t appear intimate with any one guy in particular. The water stopped running.

Kelly walked out of the bathroom, face still damp and shiny. “Well, this is it. My humble home.”

“Okay, then. You gonna be all right?”

“In a minute,” she said, and she planted a kiss on my mouth. Her kiss was firm, her lips slightly cold from the brushing. Our tongues met softly. She tasted nicely minty.

She pulled away and swooned in my arms. I’d like to think it was a result of my animal magnetism, but it was probably still the booze.

“What was that for?”

“That was for me.” She kissed me again and pulled me toward the bedroom. We held the kiss as she fumbled with the doorknob. She managed to get the door open and spun me around. The room was tiny, the edge of her bed only a foot from the door. She pushed me back, and I fell on top of her thick comforter. She dropped on top of me, and we kissed again. Taking my hands, she placed them over her breasts. I could feel her nipples standing at attention against the fabric of her shirt. Then she started kissing my neck.

Dammit. My erogenous Achilles heel and she zoned right in on it.

Despite the devil on my left shoulder howling to tear her clothes off, I pulled her hands back. “Uh, Kelly?” She didn’t answer me but stopped working on my neck, thank God. I waited for the angel on my other shoulder to provide me with righteous words, but he must have been on a coffee break. I went on without him. “Listen, don’t think that I don’t want this.”

Still no answer. Her breath was hot on my neck.

I fumbled on. “But I’ve got a hardcore rule that I have to live by. It’s a bar thing. You’re really drunk. Even if you really do want to… You know? Another time, maybe?”

She answered me with a rattling snore.

As gently as I could, I pulled myself out from under her and sat at the foot of the soft bed. I inhaled deeply and slowly blew out the air as I regained control and psyched out my erection. Suddenly, exhaustion hit me like an ocean wave. I looked at my watch. Almost two in the morning and I felt like I’d been worked over with a Louisville Slugger. I walked into Kelly’s living room and flopped onto the couch. Before I knew it, I was out, drifting in a blessedly dreamless sleep.

A sharp scream woke me up suddenly. I sprang to my feet and promptly dropped onto the floor. In my awkward sleeping position, my left leg had fallen asleep and couldn’t support my sudden leap into action. Heaping injury on top of injury, I came down square on my balls, which had turned six shades of blue, thanks to the previous evening’s coitus interruptus.

Kelly stood in the doorway of her bedroom in a purple towel, mouth agape. I didn’t know how much she remembered. Enough, I hoped. Her mouth hung open for a couple seconds. It wasn’t quite an expression of total horror, but enough to sting my fragile male ego.

“Morning, Puddin’ Pie,” I said. “What’s for breakfast?”

With a shake of her head, she mumbled, “Late.” Then she scurried to the bathroom. Within minutes, she was ready to roll. “Dammit, I’m going to be so late,” she kept muttering. She hadn’t directly acknowledged me yet, the time crunch giving her something else to focus on. But she had no choice but to deal with me when she was ready to leave. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and sighed before she spoke. “Boo, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about what?” She was playing it casual, but a little too much.

“Nothing happened. We kissed. That was it.” I didn’t lay the blame on her for the kissing, even though she started it. It wasn’t like I was an unwilling participant.

“We did, huh?” Bright red stormed into her cheeks and she looked away, probably disappointed that the frog hadn’t turned into a prince.

“Listen, it’s no biggie.” I felt my own face flushing, suddenly embarrassed to be the ugly fuck I am.

“We really have to leave, though.” She looked at her watch again, furrowing her eyebrows. “I am so late.”

We made our way down the stairs and into the harsh morning light. I walked her to her car, and she unlocked her door and stopped. “I didn’t… offend you or anything last night, did I?” She made another pained face in anticipation of my response.

“At the bar? Yeah. With the smooch? Not at all.”

She winced. “Sorry about that. Thanks for not… You know.”

“I know.” I didn’t want to ask what kind of guy she thought I was. I already knew. “Forget it.”

With a tight smile, she got into the car and pulled away. I stood there, angry with myself for reasons I couldn’t put my finger on.