Cha-Ching! (19 page)

Theo felt the outline of the envelope of money in her coat pocket. “Not really. What about you?”

“A hundred dollars,” Marisol said. “And you know where I got it?”

Theo shook her head no.

“I worked one night at The Looney Bin.”

“What?”

The Xanax Marisol had taken before Theo arrived had combined with the wine and she was flying. She told Theo the whole story of her night of stripping, and then finding the gun the next day. When she'd finished, she looked at Theo and said, “Now tell me a secret.”

Theo looked over at Marisol. She was leaning heavily against the window, and she looked drunk.

“What kind of secret?”

“I don't care.”

“The other day I was drunk and I let Cary Grant out into the yard to pee and I peed in the yard too so Cary Grant would feel like we were in the same pack.”

“That doesn't even count as a secret,” Marisol said. “That's like practically normal.”

She put her hand on Theo's thigh. Theo scanned the side of the highway for a place to pull over to kiss her. She finally just pulled over on the shoulder and put the hazards on, making out until Cary Grant interrupted them by pawing at Marisol's shoulder. Theo sat there for a second feeling dizzy from their intense chemistry.

“Go win me some money,” Marisol teased, and Theo pulled back onto the highway.

“Give me one more sip of wine,” Theo said.

“No way,” Marisol held the wine bottle just out of Theo's reach. She took a big gulp and then leaned in to kiss Theo, pushing the wine into her mouth. Theo pushed her back into her seat, swerving slightly on the highway.

When Theo turned to look at her next she saw that Marisol had begun to slide her jeans and underwear down. Soon she was sitting in the passenger seat, pantless.

“Tell me another secret. A real one,” Marisol said, playing with her clit.

“This is the best Christmas ever. Take off your shirt, too.”

Marisol undid her seatbelt and took off everything.

“It's fucking freezing,” she said, and Theo cranked up the heat.

She resumed jerking off.

“You're gonna make me get in a fucking accident,” Theo said happily.

“Toughen up,” Marisol said, taking one of her fingers and putting it into Theo's mouth.

Theo sucked on her finger until Marisol pulled it away.

“You tell me a secret,” Theo said.

Marisol was now kneeling on the passenger seat facing her. “My mom's in prison,” she said.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Marisol said it like it was no big deal but the mood changed in the truck.

Theo wanted to ask why she was in prison but didn't.

Marisol started to put her clothes back on.

“You don't want to come?” Theo asked.

“You can finish the job later.”

Theo smiled while Marisol got dressed.

They drove for a while in silence and then Theo said, “I lost four thousand dollars a few days ago.”

Marisol looked over at her sleepily.

“That's my secret,” Theo said, shrugging.

There are doors that open onto patches of blue Caribbean. Theo had seen them in art movies. They symbolized escape and opportunity. That aqua hue that promises everything. Women could be these doorways. When Theo imagined bending Marisol over the hood of her truck and having sex with her, the rest of her problems disappeared.

When Theo and Marisol and Cary Grant checked into the simple motel room with two double beds in Atlantic City, it felt like they were on the run, it was something about the randomness of checking into a cheap motel on Christmas Eve.

“Look, Cary Grant. You get your own bed,” Theo said patting the mattress.

Cary Grant looked around shyly and then jumped up. Marisol lay down next to the dog and hugged her. “I got a puppy for a Christmas once,” she said.

Theo watched Marisol's sleepy face as she petted the dog's side. “Are you tired?” she said, trying to hide any disappointment that might be in her voice.

“A little bit,” Marisol said, getting up and pouring wine into two flimsy plastic cups. “I know you probably won't believe me, but I don't usually drink this much.”

“You're fine,” Theo said.

“C'mon,” Marisol said.

Every time Theo thought Marisol was too drunk or too out of it to be present she surprised her with some kind of lucidity.

“I shouldn't be drinking at all,” Theo said, feeling the weight of the confession enter the room, but Marisol was nodding off and didn't seem to hear her.

“Candy gave me a bottle of Xanax,” Marisol continued.

Theo listened, a bit afraid. “You shouldn't drink on Xanax,” she started.

Theo had drunk on Xanax once when she was on a plane. She'd felt herself coming on to the pills while people were still boarding and putting their luggage into the overhead compartments. It was so hilarious how they tried to stuff their big suitcases into the tiny chambers and she tried to document the hilarity by taking pictures with a disposable camera. She took another Xanax, afraid of losing her good time, and then when the flight attendant pushed the drink cart up the narrow aisle she thought,
A beer sure would be nice right now
.

The next thing she knew she was being woken up by a flight attendant after everyone else had exited the plane. She was dying of thirst, and her disposable camera was missing.

Marisol pushed herself up with great effort and moved onto Theo's bed, lying down on her side. Her perfume brought back the dizziness Theo'd felt when they'd been all over each other in the truck.

“You're nice,” Marisol said.

Theo slipped her hands under Marisol's shirt.

“In a perfect world,” Marisol started, looking into Theo's eyes, “people would just live out the rest of their lives feeling destroyed after a break up.”

Now Theo could see her eyes, wild from pills and wine. “What?” she said.

“Like exes,” Marisol said. “And my mother. They'd be destroyed, while I've moved on happily perusing a plethora of ass from a Costco-sized pussy counter. But sometimes there is no Costco pussy counter. Just a communist bread line, and when you reach the front, everything is gone.”

Marisol laughed while Theo's stomach began to knot inside her. She wished she'd been drinking all night. She felt the terror of being sober while Marisol was in a blackout.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Marisol said, mussing Theo's hair and smiling. Theo was relieved that she had logically answered a question.

Now Marisol was saying, “Put your fist inside me.”

Theo grabbed the wine bottle off the nightstand and took a giant swig. The date had become a shitty, poorly built house being swept away in a storm. There went the corrugated tin roof.

She pushed Marisol onto her back and climbed on top of her, kissing her hard. She thought
as long as my tongue is in her mouth she can't say anything terrifying
. She felt Marisol wriggle underneath her, sliding her panties to the side. She took Theo's hand and pushed her fingers inside her. And then she pulled on Theo's wrist to push her fist inside.

“I want to do it on the floor,” Marisol said and she crawled from the bed onto the floor with Theo's fist still inside her, and Theo fucked Marisol while listening to some kind of commotion outside the window in the parking lot. She could hear people talking and gathering and the sirens of a fire truck but she just kept fucking Marisol until she came, and after she did Theo slid her cramped hand out of her. She looked at Marisol's naked body and worried about how filthy the motel carpet must be.

“Come here,” she said, dragging Marisol from the floor and into the bed. She pulled the blanket over her.

“We could live in this room forever,” Marisol sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“I don't have a job anymore.”

Theo thought about Sammy shuffling around their apartment alone if they never came back.

“Do you want to play blackjack?” Theo said. “Or eat a steak?”

She opened and closed her hand, imagining all the bones and tendons going back into their respective places after having been cramped inside Marisol.

“I'm tired.”

“We won't need jobs if we win a million dollars,” Theo said.

“I forgot to give you your Christmas present,” Marisol mumbled. “It's in my purse.”

Theo came in and out of remembering it was Christmas. She rummaged in Marisol's purse until she found a can of warm Coke next to the bottle of Xanax. Theo climbed into the bed behind Marisol and touched her naked stomach. The soda was warm and tasted extra sweet. Each time Theo took a sip, she felt some dribble down her chin. She wondered if Marisol was beginning to fall in love with her. Marisol had made her dinner. She'd taken her ice-skating and bought her a Coke. Could she include the Coke as evidence of Marisol's love? Theo moved closer and put her cheek against the side of Marisol's head where her hair was growing cold in the night. She hadn't realized how much she missed having a girlfriend until Marisol was there in her arms. She kissed her back a few times hoping she'd wake up, but Marisol was out cold. Then Theo panicked about the fact that she'd been drinking on pills, and she checked to make sure Marisol was still breathing. She was.

After a half hour of tossing and turning, Theo slid carefully out of bed and took the Xanax bottle out of Marisol's purse. She swallowed the tiny pill with a sip of warm Coke, pulled on her clothes, shoved the Xanax bottle into her pocket and went out to hit the casino. It was on the other side of the parking lot, and as Theo walked toward the entrance she could see a few people standing next to a fire truck. She remembered hearing the commotion when she was fisting Marisol.

“What's going on?” she asked a man who looked like a trucker.

“Car caught on fire.”

“Oh,” Theo said, already starting to walk away.

The casino was a throwback filled with taxidermied animals and slot machines that still coughed up coins instead of tickets. Theo watched a young fag cocktail waiter make his rounds. If she ordered a drink then she could go back to the motel room wild on Xanax and booze and make Marisol take care of her.

She sat down at a slot machine called
Wild Goose Chase
.

“Cocktails?” the fag asked her.

“Just seltzer,” Theo said.

She set to work trying to line up geese who were wearing straitjackets. She tried to figure out what had made the geese go crazy, then scooted over to another slot machine called
Sheeploads of Fun
. She wasn't sure if she was coming on to the Xanax or what, but she was pretty sure that the sheep were prostitutes—happy hookers with hearts of gold. She willed the sheep hookers to line up in a row. The fag returned with Theo's seltzer and she pulled out a hundred-dollar bill for him.

“Merry Christmas,” she said.

The fag looked at the hundred-dollar bill like he was going to start crying and that made Theo want to; instead she turned back to the slot machine and played until she'd lost her roll of nickels. Then she moved to the part of the casino that had newer slot machines, since she didn't want to be slowed down by putting in one coin at a time. She sat down at a machine called
Nurse Follies,
a slot machine based on the American health care system. On the second spin Theo got into the bonus round that featured paying a patient's bill. Each time she could benevolently pay a patient's bill she won more money. Finally, the bonus round ended and the machine said,
You have great insurance but it doesn't cover this.

The combination of the Xanax and staring at the slot machines made Theo feel like she had mashed potatoes for a brain. She looked for a timid sirma'amsir slot machine where if you lined up three butch bathroom wigs you could win a million dollars.

•

Marisol woke up to Cary Grant licking her face and wagging her tail. She looked around the room and it took her a full thirty seconds to remember she was in Atlantic City. Her head felt terrible. The dog jumped off the bed and stood by the door needing to go out. Where was Theo? The clock on the nightstand said twelve, and she figured that meant it was noon. She got dressed and took Cary Grant for a walk in the parking lot so she could relieve herself, then returned to the room. She had no memory of the night before except her bad tooth was throbbing and she was sore in a way that she knew meant they'd fucked. Had they gone to Atlantic City but brought no luggage? She saw her purse on the ground and tried to piece together the night before. Her wallet was still there but the bottle of Xanax was gone. She felt panic at the thought of not being able to swallow a pill.

With much effort Marisol put on a pot of motel room coffee. When she opened the package of coffee Cary Grant looked at her hungrily.

“You want breakfast?” she said to the wagging dog. “Okay. Let me just get my head clear.”

She hopped in the shower to wake herself up, then went into the casino to look for a restaurant where she could buy Cary Grant some breakfast. She scanned the rows of people at slot machines for Theo and then walked into a buffet where she filled a plate with sausage links and eggs and potatoes. When no one was looking she walked right back out through the casino holding the plate of food. She pulled one of the sausage links off the plate and tried to eat it but it made her nauseous. Part of her hoped that by the time she was back in the motel room with Cary Grant's breakfast Theo would be there. At the same time she couldn't imagine having a conversation with her head hurting this badly. Plus, she'd like to recover a few more memories of last night before she had to talk about it.

Cary Grant wagged happily when she opened the door, and Marisol patted her on the head. There was something perfect about how a dog greeted you. She set the plate down on the carpet and watched Cary Grant look over her shoulder and then devour everything. When there was nothing left she licked the plate completely clean and then looked up at Marisol.

“I forgot your coffee,” she said to the dog, taking a sip of her own terrible motel coffee. She glanced at the plastic cups stained with red wine left on the nightstand.

The dog wagged then pawed at the door to go out.

“Oh, sorry,” Marisol said, opening the door.

Cary Grant had diarrhea in the shrubbery and then raced back into the room. Marisol filled the empty ice bucket with tap water and put it on the floor. “You be a good girl,” she told the dog, pulling on a hat, her hair still wet from the shower. She wrote Theo a note, placed it on the pillow and left.

She didn't know where she was going, but with no Xanax and no memories of the night before, she wanted to leave before Theo returned. She called a cab and took it to the bus station. There she boarded a bus and slept the entire way to Port Authority. She pushed herself through the throngs of excited people until she felt a bit dizzy. She bought a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream from a cafe and sat down on a bench watching the numbers turn on the giant board, announcing the gates for each destination. When a new gate was announced Marisol would wait for the crowd of people looking at the board to disperse, rushing off to their respective departures. I'm free to go anywhere, she thought, but instead of feeling empowered, she felt lonely. She sat on the bench and took tiny sips of her hot chocolate, only what would slide through the square slit in the plastic lid. The first sip had been so hot it scalded her tongue, but now she let it—each time, she imagined the skin raising as if it had been cut by a very fine piece of glass, and her tongue was covered by those scars.

I'm going to finish this cup of hot chocolate and then look up at the board, and the first bus that catches my eye, I'll board, Marisol told herself.

She pulled the lid off the hot chocolate and stuck her finger inside the paper cup, fishing out a fingerful of stiff whipped cream. She wished Theo was beside her to share it. Theo would thank her and be grateful and eat it all and there would be this innocent quality to her face like when Marisol had watched her eat the candied peanuts. She hoped Theo was back in the motel room by now. Surely, Cary Grant would be needing to go out.

•

It was three in the afternoon by the time Theo got back to the motel room, and there was a note on her door to come to the office. She'd have to pay for another night since she'd missed checkout. She slid the key in the lock, and on the other side of the door Cary Grant was dancing nervously. She could smell the dog had had an accident.

“I'm so sorry,” she said, quickly leashing the dog and taking it out to have diarrhea in the bushes.

How could it be 3
pm
? Had she really been gambling for twelve hours? And where was Marisol? She returned to the room and saw a note on the pillow.

Theo, I gave Cary Grant some breakfast from the buffet and took the bus home. Merry Christmas.