Page 7 of Liquids

I want to say, but not that good, right? Or you would have come back. But I don’t say anything I just wave my hand at him.

“See you around,” I say, and climb in.

I stew on Rig all but telling me to get lost over the next couple of days, coming home after work and drinking the vodka in the apartment, because my ten-dollar-a-day budget doesn’t stretch to buying more booze. I want to ask him why. Why, when it was good like that, he’s not interested. I’m not ugly. I’m not a liability, well, not much of one. A bit damaged, maybe, but aren’t we all? So after a few more days, I head out to his trailer again. Yeah, I’m kind of an idiot like that. I could never take no for an answer.

I hammer on the door, but all the curtains are drawn and the place has a sort of ringing silence about it like no one’s been here for a while. I examine the lock. Could I bust the door in? Come back with my lock picker? Why do I even think shit like this?

Two days later, when I’m in Callahan’s, I spot Maggot Mike drinking with a buddy. I wouldn’t say he’s friends with Rig exactly, but I’ve seen them talking over a beer. So I slide onto a bar stool next to him, and he turns to me with a tight smile.

“What’s up, Carly?”

“You seen Rig around?”

His eyes roam over my face. “I think he got a job on the rigs about five days ago. Why?” His eyes drift down my body, as his mouth curls up at one corner. “You hook up with him?”

And this is why I don’t talk to Maggot Mike that much. He lives up to his nickname.

“Why’d ya do that, girl? You know he don’t stick with the ladies, not ever.”

Yeah, I know that. So what, asshole?

He leans toward me and says quietly, “I’d be very happy to help you out if you want that.” He winks, and it makes me want to vomit.

That’s the kind of man Maggot Mike is. Married and on the make. Unsurprisingly, you never see his wife around town. Now I come to think of it, I don’t think one decent guy lives in this whole town, and there are a bunch of women settling for assholes like Mike. I’d love to leave, but I can’t.

I give Maggot Mike my best smile. You don’t get on the wrong side of people in a place this small. “I’ll bear that offer in mind,” I say, and I head back to where Marni is sitting, already chatting to a man I’ve never seen before.

So, Rig’s gone. Maybe he moves on from all his one-night stands this way. That memo I didn’t get when he left? I think I’ve got it now.

Over the next few weeks, I do my utmost to forget about kitchen counter sex and being made breakfast. I tried to step out of the level I usually live on, and that’s never a good idea. I’m on that level and I always will be.

Instead, I hook up with Dave. Dave’s a pushover—everyone knows that—but he’s company and he’s a drinker like me. He’s always amenable to hooking up, but this time I hold on to him and try to make things work. And it’s fine. He chills with me and cooks me food. Having him around makes my finances easier, no question. As a trucker, he earns okay money, so he buys me drinks and I can put more of my paycheck into paying off the debt. Which I do at the beginning of the month this time, and for the first time in a long while I’m a bit smug about how organized my life is.

It’s not a bad life; it’s just never been the life I wanted. I wanted to paint, but I don’t do that anymore. Whatever, I’ve got this whole life thing under control now and I’m never randomly hooking up with rough scary guys in bars ever again.

4

STORMS

Marni slides onto a stool next to me at the bar, and as I turn toward her she’s wearing a tight bondage top and chunky boots, not her normal stilettos. Her eyes are shining. Fuck. I hope she hasn’t taken anything, or this night will go south very fast. I try and stay away from the drug-dealing crowd—my life’s messy enough without adding that into the mix—but Marni … well, I don’t know what she does and I don’t want to know.

“Fight’s on tonight,” she says breathlessly. “Just got word.”

Holy shit. The fights happen out in the woods, run by a guy named Marco. Lots of gambling, lots of trouble. We both love them, as does everyone else in this place because nothing exciting ever happens here.

“How did you find out?”

The deal is that word gets around but nobody tells the cops.

“Angelo.”

Okay, that’s legit. Angelo would know; he’s Marco’s runner … takes bets, organizes the fighters, leans on people.

But why would Angelo tell Marni? They don’t ban women, but they don’t exactly encourage them to come to the fights either.

“Why did he tell you?”

She winks at me. “I have my ways.”