“Don’t blame yourself. He’d have found some other reason to hurt her if it wasn’t that. It’s like it bottles up in him over time and eventually he needs an outlet for it and she’s a great outlet. She’s a hundred-and-twenty pound stress-ball-squeezy-thing. It’s only a matter of time before he takes it too far. The day is coming.”
“You think he’d kill her?” She didn’t answer. “What do you suggest we do?”
“Me? What do I suggest?” She took her head off her hand, straightened up and exhaled. “You wouldn’t do it.”
“Try me.”
“Beat him like he beats her. Be sure to get your elbows nice and deep in his kidneys so he’ll pee blood. Pull his hair out, but not in too big of clumps, or else people might notice. Throttle him so he can’t speak, so he can’t beg you to stop hurting him. Get inside his head and make him feel like he deserves what you’re doing to him.” With a straight face she said, “Kill him.”
Being a weekday, the Saucy Minx was empty by midnight. Even Tank was long gone. Amber and Tag remained and were both working on a pot of coffee. He had swept and cleaned earlier and the place was nearly ready to be closed before the last customer had left. Amber was drunk and Tag wasn’t far from it. He insisted on driving her home but she refused. She said they’d share a cab and that was the end of the discussion.
His apartment was the closer of the two so he gave the cabbie his address. She gave Tag her phone number; he entered her as a contact. She did the same. He had one missed call coming in at 10:00 P.M., from Kade. It was just after 1:00 A.M. when the cab pulled up to Tag’s place. He said it was the most enjoyable time he ever had at work. She was flattered. He kissed her forehead, had long forgotten about the tooth on his, and headed for the stairs, took them two at a time. There was a note on the door in Kade’s shitty handwriting: In case you didn’t get my voicemail, I changed the locks just to be safe. Peace, Kade.
He knocked. Then rang the bell. No answer. He looked down the street and saw the cabbie’s tail-lights diminishing. He phoned Amber.
“Miss me already?”
“No. Bit of a problem. Could you turn that cab around?”
“Uh, yeah.” She lowered the phone and relayed the message.
“See you in a second, bye.” He ended the call and immediately listened to his voicemail: “Sup, dude? I changed the lock on the door, just in case I did lock the door the other night and the bitch had a key. Better safe than sorry, right? I left your key under the welcome mat. I’m spending the night at that chick’s house from the other day. I forget her name, the one who can cook. Later, Tater.”
“At least you didn’t write the location of the key on your note.” He deleted the voicemail and lifted the welcome mat. No key. “You’ve got to be shitting me. Are you fucking retarded, Kade?”
The cab pulled up to the curb. Tag descended the stairs while calling Kade. No answer. He left a voicemail with several expletives and hung up. He opened the back door of the cab and said, “I’m locked out. My roommate has the I-Q of a piece of chalk. I guess I’ll get a hotel room.”
“Do you want to stay at my apartment?”
“I couldn’t ask that of you.”
“After how many free drinks you gave me, I owe you more than a single night’s stay and a smiling tooth sticker.”
He looked up (still couldn’t see the sticker) and peeled it off. “Are you sure? I don’t mind getting a hotel. Money’s a little tight, but I can manage.”
“Come on, get in. You’re staying with me. You mind sleeping on the couch? If not you can take my bed and I’ll stay on the couch.”
“You’d do that?”
“Yeah, why not?”
He shook his head, got in and the cabbie shifted into drive. “I kind of hope Mae doesn’t find out how you feel about her.”
“I’m not gay,” she insisted. “But why do you hope that?”
“Because you’d be hard for her to resist, gay or not.”
“Aww. That’s without a doubt the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Ever? Nah, that’s just a figure of speech.”
“No it isn’t. Do you mean that, Tag? Do you think Mae would have a hard time resisting me?”
“Geez, even in this dark cab I can see you glowing. You sure you don’t want to come clean and admit it?”
“There’s nothing to admit. I’m not gay.”
“We’re all a little gay sometimes.”
The cabbie looked back and agreed. “At least a little.”
“Your tip just got bigger, my man.”
“Woohoo! And my wife said that nothing good would ever come from me experimenting with gay porn. Shows how much she knows.”
Amber laughed. Tag watched her affectedly. She was a million times prettier than he remembered at Diamond Smiles.
She gave him a guided tour of her apartment, which consisted of a bedroom, a small living-room, tiny kitchen alcove, and bathroom. He wouldn’t be getting lost. She brought a blanket and pillow to the couch and repeated her offer of the bed. He called her bluff. “Sure. Sounds good.”
“Okay. I’m going to switch pillows, though. I don’t want your drool all over my down-pillow.”
“Maybe I don’t want your down-pillow all over my drool.”
“Easy for you to say, you haven’t felt my pillow.”
“Would you let Mae feel your pillows?”
“Is that a euphemism for my boobs? Is that where we’re at in our relationship now? Boob jokes?”
He bowed his head, feigned being ashamed. “Yeah.”
She went for her pillow and returned with the kind of quickness that a tiny apartment affords. “Okay. It’s all yours.”
“I didn’t think you were going to let me sleep in your bed. I tried calling you out on it. Didn’t work. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“If you keep it up, I’m going to be a full-blown lesbian by morning.” Tag humored. “This couch is hardly comfortable. I have a King bed. We’re adults. Would you like to share the bed?”
“Uh… nah, I’ll sleep out here.”
“Yep. Rosie O’Donnell by morning. I hope I look good with short hair.”
Tag laughed again. “For the love of God, stop making me laugh! All fucking night long! My side is going to be sore tomorrow.” He caught his breath. “And you got it backwards. I’m sleeping out here not because I’m unattracted to you.”
She repeated slowly, “Sleeping out here not because I’m un-attracted to you. Not. Un. The two negatives cancel each other out, I think. I’m not great at math. So that would make it, I’m sleeping out here… because I’m… attracted to you.” She blinked at Tag. “I must have done it wrong. Was it my math?”
Tag covered his face with the pillow and laughed into it. When he uncovered his face, it was pink. “I’m losing my mind.”
“Why do you laugh so much? Nothing’s funny. Are you coming to bed or not? There’s plenty of room. I don’t snore.”
“Yeah, why not. Sleep with plenty of clothes on, please.”
“I must be too drunk to understand what that means. Did you just say sleep with plenty of clothes on?”
“Means I want you to make yourself as unattractive as you can. Inaccessible I mean. Lots of clothes.”
“I could tape a pickle to my groin. Would that help?”
“No!” he said and cackled. “I like pickles!”
“You’d grab at my pickle?”
He rolled over on the couch.
“And I’m the one who’s supposedly gay.”
“Stop it!” He gasped. “I can’t breathe!”
“Okay, I’ll stop talking. You have a very strange sense of humor. I’ll be in bed. Don’t worry, I won’t dress sexy.”
Tag sat on the couch for a while, meditated to steady his breathing. He wondered how much of his hysteria could be chalked up to alcohol. He kicked his shoes off and debated sleeping in his boxers or leaving his jeans on. Wearing jeans in bed is a wretched feeling. He left them on a
nd went inside Amber’s room.
It was dark inside. A sound machine was playing forest sounds. An owl asked who Tag was. Once he arrived at the bed he heard wheezing. Part of him was disappointed, the part that was in his jeans. He slid under the covers and sank his head into the plush pillow.
A few minutes later he opened his eyes. For some annoying reason he wanted to see what she was wearing. Maybe she had a pickle or a banana taped to her inner thigh. The thought brought back the laughter, though he kept it silent. He lifted the comforter and sheet, using the light of his cellphone to inspect Amber. The laughter was no longer silent. She awakened from it and frowned at him.
“A ski jacket?” he said.
“You said dress heavy!”
“But, but a ski jacket?” His laughing affected her. Her frown became a grin. “Are you wearing ski pants too?”
“I don’t own ski pants.”
He pushed back the bedding to see for himself; Amber resisted his effort, pulling them back up. “What, I can’t see? I’ve got to know. Rubbers? Chinos?”
“It’s kind of personal,” she said.
“Just like a ski jacket is personal?”
“Fine, you little bastard.” She lowered the bedding, exposing her pink panties, then covered back up. “Happy?”
“No.” Tag had sobered. “I wish I didn’t see that. I thought you’d have something funny going on down there.”
“You are nuts. Certifiably insane.”
“I guess so. Night, Amber.” The panties ended the laughter at least.
Tag dreamt that he and Mae were on a grassy plain under a wide-open night sky, full moon. Flowers that might have been yellow but were golden under the moonlight fluttered with the breeze. They held hands lying side by side on a blanket. Mae leaned in to kiss him. She wore a ski jacket, but it meant nothing to him. The kissing grew more passionate. She rolled over on top of him, now kissing his neck. He went to undo her pants but she wasn’t wearing any. He took the jacket zipper by her neck and unzipped it all the way, then parted it, exposing her bare breasts. Perfect breasts. Not large, not small, but perfect. He helped remove her panties. She helped him remove his pants, then boxers.
Once inside her, he felt immeasurable pleasure, the kind that dreams are indifferent to. And why shouldn’t it feel so good? It wasn’t a dream. Not to Tag. Not to Amber, either. When his eyes opened, so did Amber’s.
Her jacket was opened. And like Mae, Amber’s breasts (not large, not small) were exposed. Tag realized they were having sex the same moment Amber did. Her eyes became as large and round as silver-dollars. She rolled off of him at once.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what happened.” She buried herself in the covers and wriggled as far away from him as the bed allowed. All Tag could see of her was a wisp of ash blonde hair.
“I was having sex in my dream,” Tag said. “I probably initiated it.”
“But I was on top of you.” In her muffled voice was shame.
“I hope this isn’t traumatic for you, me being a guy and all.”
“I’m. Not. Gay!”
Tag scooted beside her and lowered the bedding to her waist. She stared at him as though he were a doctor putting on a latex glove. He combed his fingers through her hair and caressed her cheek. He slowly went in for a kiss, anticipating her leaning away from it. She didn’t. A deer in the headlights. The kiss landed. She kissed him back. He maneuvered his hand under the flap of her jacket and over her breast. She was aroused.
“I guess you aren’t gay after all,” he said softly. “It’s not the first time I’ve been wrong.” He helped her get out of the jacket while kissing her neck.
“Tag?”
The way she said his name, part moan and part murmur, aroused him greatly. “Hmm?”
“I am gay.”
“Very funny.” He sought to lower her panties but there were none. That’s right, they would be off, considering what they were doing only a moment ago.
She pulled his shirt up and he allowed it to be taken off. She got on top of him and put him back inside her. She kissed him as they swayed into a rhythm. “I’m not kidding. You were right about me.”
“Then why this?”
“I must be bi. Learn something new every day.”
Tag parried her humor, but appreciated the words just the same. “If I were gay, I think I’d turn bi right now, too.” Their tempo increased. “Does this mean you’re a… you’ve never been with a man?”
“I have. A wo-man.”
“Please don’t make me laugh right now.”
The corners of her mouth upturned. “I should’ve known it was a dream. Girls don’t feel like this. This good.” She moaned. “But then again, I haven’t been with Mae.”
“Don’t be offended, but I was dreaming I was with Mae.”
“Me too.”
* * *
Amber rolled off of him. They stared at the dark ceiling and breathed heavily with the crickets chirping, an owl hooting. She thanked him, said she loved it, and don’t tell Mae about this, please. He wouldn’t. They smiled at each other.
“It was so pretty,” she said dreamily. “We were on a prairie under the stars. The full moon was too big to be real.”
“On a white blanket? Were there golden flowers?”
“You had the same dream?”
“What do you suppose that means?”
“That we’re still asleep, dreaming right now?”
“I like you, Amber.”
“I like you.”
“I mean, I want to see you again. Get to know you better. Learn who Amber is.”
“I know what you meant. You’ve already learned the best part of me.” She gestured at her body.
“That’s not the best part of you. It’s good, damned good, but not the best.” He tapped her head.
“Is it true that people always remember every little thing about their first time?”
“Very much so.”
“Good.”
Chapter 35
Amber came out of the bathroom in purple scrubs and wet hair. Makeup was minimal. She possessed a vibrant glow today. Tag wondered why he didn’t find her as attractive when he met her yesterday. He supposed he had Mae on his mind: that’ll do it every time. They left the apartment when the cabbie honked out front.
They were headed to the Saucy Minx. Tag wished Amber would accompany him to the hospital.
“I would if I didn’t have to work.”
“Can’t you call in sick?”
“Yeah, but I need the hours.”
“What if… it’s Thursday, right?” She nodded. “I was going to call Allie to help serve drinks tonight. She gives us a hand when we expect a crowd. What if I didn’t call her, and instead you can serve drinks tonight? It only pays six-fifty an hour, but with tips you’ll do well. And it’s under the table, no taxes.”
“Just for tonight?”
“Yep. Call in sick and go visit Mae with me.”
“I don’t know, it’s awfully short notice to call in sick. They’d be pissed because Mae’s already out sick. They’d be understaffed.”
“Tell them you fell down the stairs. Seems to be going around.”
She made a mean face. “Fucking prick Trent.”
“Do it for Mae. She’d love to see your face, I bet. Or do it for me. I love seeing your face, too.”
“Would I make at least a hundred bucks? More like eighty, after taxes.”
“Easily. Wear something slutty and you’ll do well.”
“Then I’ll wear you.”
“Me? I’m slutty?”
The cabbie chuckled. Amber scowled at him, told him it was an A and B conversation so C your way out of it—and oldie but goody.
“Yeah you’re slutty. You slept with a girl you don’t know. If that’s not slutty, what is?”
“It takes two to tango, sucker.”
“It doesn’t if you own a corded shower-head like mine. And I was taken advantage of last night.
A victim. I’m innocent in all of this.”
“Uh-huh. I didn’t hear you complaining.”
“I was in too much pain to complain. Penises hurt.” The cabbie looked back. “The road is over there,” Amber said and pointed.
“You regret last night,” Tag said solemnly.
Amber leaned over to peck him on the cheek. “I was kidding. I loved it.” She retrieved her phone from her purse and made the call to the office.
* * *
The cab pulled away from the Saucy Minx. Tag grimaced at the sight of his bed through the camper-shell window of the pickup truck. He forgot about that. Amber offered to drive to Forest Pine hospital. What a pretentious name for a hospital in Oroville, Tag thought. There were probably a dozen trees in all of Oroville, none of which were pines.
The ride there was quiet. Mae was on their minds. It was just after 9:00 A.M. when they arrived. Amber allayed Tag’s nerves by assuring him that Trent would be at work, therefore Mae would be alone in her hospital room. He said he didn’t care, that he hoped Trent was there so he could whoop his ass. Amber pretended that it wasn’t a lie.
In the large nearly-vacant reception room, they arrived at the front desk. Amber explained to the unassuming lady behind the counter that she was Mae Clark’s sister and wanted to visit her. Tag quickly added that he was her brother. He didn’t sound as convincing. She checked her computer, shook her head. “No Mae Clark.” More clickity-clacking on the keyboard, then, “No record of Mae Clark. You must have the wrong hospital. Did you try Mendenhall?”
“It’s this hospital,” Amber assured. “I saw the form. Maybe she checked out?”
“No, dear. No record of a Mae Clark.”
“Oh, you probably spelled it with a Y. It’s M-A-E.”
She typed and entered. “Mae Clark.” She leaned and read. “Last record of her was six years ago, if it’s the same Mae Clark. Born in sixty-eight?”
“No. Wrong Mae. Hmm.” She looked at Tag for suggestions. He had none. “Thanks anyway.”
They left the building and sauntered to the Honda. Tag wished she had Mae’s phone number.
“You know how many time’s I’ve thought that same thing?” Amber said.
“I don’t get it. Why don’t you have it?”