– I’m here. Open up.
Barking.
The door opens a crack and Sandy’s face is framed in the five-inch gap.
– Hey, hey, Wade.
– Hey, I got my shit together a little early and thought I’d come by.
– Yeah, uh.
She’s looking past me to Rolf and Sid.
– Sorry, these are my buddies. They gave me a lift over. Is your guy around, or?
– Uh, uh, yeah, he’s here, but.
She looks back into the house and then at us.
– He’s here, but your buddies, they should. Can they wait in their car? He’s in the kitchen and won’t come out till they leave.
– Yeah, sure, but they’re totally cool. Also.
I hook my thumb at Sid.
– He needs to use the can.
She bites her lip.
– Wade, this is pretty uncool. I mean you know.
– Yeah, but T knows these guys. They’re cool. Go get him, he knows these guys are cool.
– Yeah, but T, T is still out, and.
– Jesus, what did you guys?
– We just came back and smoked out and he went down.
– Is he?
– He’s cool, he’s OK, but he’s out.
– Cool, OK, but just let us in so he can use the can and then they’ll leave and we can talk. Be cool and let the guy take a leak.
– Uh.
Another glance over her shoulder.
– Uh, OK, OK, that’s cool. OK. Just, all of you can come in, that’s cool.
She pulls the door open. I step inside. The house is dark. All the curtains are drawn. I pull my shades down my nose a bit so I can peek over them. Rolf and Sid come inside. Rolf nods at Sandy.
– Hey.
She half smiles at him.
– Hi.
Sid doesn’t say anything. Sandy closes the door. She points straight ahead.
– You guys can kick it in the living room. The bathroom is just to the left.
I stay where I am.
– What’s up with Hitler?
Sandy is wearing only a shorty kimono, her legs and feet bare. All her makeup is gone, her hair mussed, face flushed. I can see now how young she is; no more that twenty. She draws the kimono tighter, hiding the stars on her chest.
– He, he freaked a little and chased my cat, so I made T put him in the master bathroom.
– Hunh.
I walk into the living room. Sandy touches Sid’s arm. Sid just stares at her. She tries a smile.
– Bathroom’s down there.
Sid looks down the hallway, the open door of a bathroom visible at its end. A closed door on its right, Hitler’s barking coming from behind it. He looks at me.
– Well, go on, man.
He looks at Rolf, then turns and walks into the bathroom and closes the door, his movements as stiff and unnatural as a robot. But he’s not afraid. He’s excited; charged with violence.
I look around the living room. Electric blue velvet couch against the left wall, matching love seat against the right, a deco coffee table between them, wood floors partially covered by a fake Moroccan rug, fireplace in the far wall, entertainment center next to it, two floor lamps with colored scarves draped over them. On the walls, framed movie posters for
She goes to the coffee table and finds her pack of Camel Ultra Lights among a jumble of binge trash. Two overflowing ashtrays, a mirror smeared with white residue, crumpled squares of magazine paper, three empty Veuve bottles, a colored pot box like the ones we found at Tim’s, a loaded bong, and three Bic lighters. She drags hard on her cigarette.
– So you get some rest?
There’s a doorway covered by a beaded curtain next to the love seat. I’m guessing that’s the kitchen. Terry is in there, listening. I light one of my own smokes and bob my head up and down.
– Oh, yeah, I’m good to go. But, man, was I wasted.
– Yeah, me too.
I drop a spent match into one of the ashtrays and point at all the gear.
– Not too much to keep going.
– Yeah, yeah, well, me and T got started and then he, you know, and the guy, my boss, Terry, came around so we.
– Kept the party going.
– Yeah, yeah, but yeah, I’m ready to crash.
The toilet flushes and Sid comes back into the room. Sandy jams her smoke out in an ashtray and starts for the front door. I sit on the couch, Rolf drops down next to me, and Sid moves over by the fireplace. Sandy stops.
– So, you guys need to, like, go wait in the car now.
– They’re gonna stay here, OK?
She crosses her arms and shakes her head.
– Motherfucker.
– It’s cool, Sandy.
– Fucking, what is this, Wade?
– It’s cool, baby. These guys are just helping me find Tim and they need to hear what your guy has to say.
– This is so uncool and you know it is.
– Baby, the guy, he wanted a grand, right?
I take my money out of my pocket. After T shopped for me, after paying Sandy last night, and after partying my ass off, I’m down to about fourteen hundred. I count off a thousand.
– Tell him he can have it. All he has to do is walk out here and talk to us.
She looks at the money.
– This is wrong, this is so.
– Baby, take the money and go talk to the guy.
The index and middle fingers of her right hand are scissoring against each other and she’s shaking her head.
– Please. Don’t.
I push the money to the edge of the coffee table.
– I’m sorry, baby. But this is the way it’s gonna be. These guys have to stay. So take the money and go talk to your guy and make him understand. Take the money, baby.
She rubs her forehead.
– Shit.
She steps to the table, scoops up the money, and pushes through the curtain, the strings of beads swinging and clicking behind her.
