Tricks (33 page)

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I was so young the first time,

I didn't know what it meant, only that nothing had ever hurt

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so bad. Walt tore me up and I bled and bled and when I screamed, nobody came. And he laughed.

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That's it, little baby. Scream
for your daddy.
Only he wasn't

my daddy at all. My daddy was

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a brave soldier, fighting far away.

Iris told me so. I still believed the stuff she told me then. When

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I told her about the man, not

my daddy, she said,
He was only making you into a real girl.

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I didn't understand. But I made

myself believe her. I was a real

girl now. But what was I before?

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Walt Was the First

There were others. Nameless.

Faceless. I figured out how to close off my brain when they did

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it to me, to withdraw into a dark

little room inside my head, where

I couldn't see them. Couldn't smell

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their sweat, their stagnant breath.

Couldn't taste the tobacco coating their tongues, or the beer tainting

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the spit they left in my mouth.

Couldn't feel what was down between my legs. But now they

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revisit me. Is it because of what

I'm doing? Because of these

nameless, faceless men watching

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me? Even without them touching

me, I feel dirty about what I do.

Alex does even filthier things

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but says it all washes off with soap.

I don't believe that. I think it all

leaves stains. Indelible stains.

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I Wait for Her Now

Wondering where she is, what she has done today, if she'll come

home. Lydia called. We've got

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a bachelor party at ten. It's nine

fifteen already, and no sign of

Alex. I tried her cell. Went straight

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to voice mail. The battery must be

gone. If she doesn't show, I'll have to go alone. Won't be the first time,

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and she knows how scared I am to work by myself. I still love her, but I feel her slipping away, bit

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by bit, every day. Finally the door

opens. She's a total mess--makeup

smeared, hair like a rat's nest, clothes

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dirty and torn. I rush to her side,

"What happened? Are you okay?"

I try to hug her, but she shoves me

*

away.
Don't touch me.
Tears spill from her eyes, tracking mascara down her cheeks. She sinks down

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on the sofa, puts her face into her hands.
Bastard screwed me, then robbed me. Took everything.

*

Again I try to hold her. This time she doesn't pull away, but she is like sandstone. Hard on the surface,

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crumbling beneath. "It's okay.

We'll be okay." Then, an after-thought,

"How much did he get?"

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Her head sags against my chest, wetting my shirt with tears, snot.

Not sure. Four or five hundred.

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Anger flares suddenly, but not because of the money. Because of what we've become. "We've got

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a goddamn bachelor party, clear across town. We'll barely

make it if we leave right now."

*

She looks up at me with ringtail

eyes.
I can't... please. I'm gonna

be sick.
She runs to the bathroom.

*

I follow, put an ear to the door, hear the definite sound of puke

splash. "Okay," I call. "I'll take

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this one by myself. But when I get

back, we have to talk." For once,

I'm not afraid to do the gig alone.

*

The whole cab ride over, I think about what it is I want to say.

I arrive at a few minutes after ten.

*

The guys are young, not much

older than me. Good. They won't

ask for many extras. I handle

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the business end, promise a lap

dance to the groom, who looks

excited and scared at the same time.

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And for the entire hour I'm taking off my clothes, shimmying and writhing and faking "sexy," my mind

*

is on one thing. I don't know

how, where, or even with whom.

Just know I have to get out of here.

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A Poem by Cody Bennett
Don't Know

Who I am anymore.

I was sure once, not long

ago. Knew where I came

from, and where I was going

to. Now I don't have a clue who puts on my shoes in the morning, nor what direction he's

going

when he closes the door behind him. He looks a lot like me. But his flame has been extinguished, buried

too far beneath his soil to find

air enough to smolder.

It is no more than a vague

memory, all oxygen

gone.

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Cody How Do I Find Myself Here?

Not even a year since everything

started a snowball roll toward hell.

It's a place I'm starting to know well, a place I deserve. I mean, I couldn't

stop Cory from fucking up. He was set on it. And Jack wasn't my fault.

*

I didn't make him get cancer, did my

best for him when he did. Hear that,

Jack? I wanted to help you! Couldn't.

I'm not God. What happened is between him and you. Can't you do anything up there to help me out down here?

*

Okay, maybe I'm not worthy of your intervention. Maybe you're

just plain grossed out. Pissed off.

But if you help me, you'll help

Mom, too. She can't make it on her own. Damn it, you promised!

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And dude, if I can't worm my way

out of this crazy place, I'll have to consider that medicine chest, still full of pain meds and sleeping pills. Mom

would only miss me so long. The rest of the world wouldn't miss me at all.

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That Includes Ronnie

Oh, she claims she misses me now.

I only see her at school, and I'm not

there a whole hell of a lot. I should

be, of course. Just started junior year.

If I really want college, really want

more, I need to focus not only on

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attendance, but on getting good

grades. Impossible. Too much

going on. Too much going down.

Hard enough, just surviving.

Trying not to think about Cory.

Not to think about Lydia, etc.

*

I get to class late, or not at all.

Can't find interest in any of my

classes. English? I talk good enough.

Math? Let me give you a point

spread. History? Want to hear

mine? Chemistry? Girls or men?

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And Ronnie? She pleads for attention.

Can't you please come over, spend a little time with me? C'mon, Cody.

I miss you so much. Remember...

Then she'll try to convince me, bringing up one of those special

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(God, yes, they
were
special)

times we spent in bed. Oh, I do

miss holding her close. The satin of her hair. The luscious full curves of her body. But sex means something

different now. I can't tell her that.

*

So I lie. Tell her I have to work. (For a temp service, so she can't track

me down any certain place.) Tell her I have to drive Mom somewhere.

(Usually to visit Cory.) Tell her

I'm just too freaking tired. (No lie.)

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Sooner or later, she'll get sick of the excuses and find another

guy. I only hope it's someone who deserves the perfect girl.

Not an addict. Not a boy whore.

Not a fucking loser like me.

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The Only Thing

I've won at lately is a few games of chance. A hand or ten of poker.

And the Chiefs have been on a roll.

I've tried to keep the bets reasonable, but the problem with winning is, once you've got a bigger bankroll,

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you want to make bigger bets. Got a whopper riding this week. Enough to let me skip a couple of "dates,"

if my luck holds. I have been smart

enough to pay my car insurance for six months, help Mom with

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the power and phone. She thinks

I'm working at a temp service too.

Since they place you in jobs

temporarily, according to different

businesses' need, it provides the perfect excuse for sometimes

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having money, sometimes not.

For being away from home odd

hours. And, since those jobs tend to be manual labor, Mom doesn't ask

why I so often plunge straight into the shower after coming through the door.

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On a Positive Note

I've managed to make small credit

card payments. Not enough to pay down the principal, but enough to cover the interest, anyway. Only

one problem. As had to happen,

I couldn't keep intercepting the bills.

*

Mom called me into the kitchen.
Cody, what are all these charges to Int-Gam,

Inc.?
She stood there, hands on hips, waiting for my confession. How

could I tell her "Int-Gam, Inc." was Internet Gaming Incorporated,

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and that I had been using the cards for months, losing money hand over fist? "I'm not sure, Mom," I lied, looking her straight in the eye.

"But just so you know, I found

those credit cards in Cory's things."

*

I can't believe what a liar I've become, and lying about Cory was a way low

blow. But she bought it. Why not?

Her youngest son is a criminal.

Not much of a stretch to think

that he might also be a thief.

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Credit Cards

No longer being an option, sports bets

will have to be laid down through local bookies. Vince knows one or two. And there's always poker.

Hey, I've got a stake--a few hun

saved up. Anyway, I've got spending

*

cash, thanks to Lydia. Mostly it's from men. Thank God, I haven't had

too many experiences similar to the one with crew-cut Dan. I can't seem to excise

that night completely from my head.

I've questioned a lot of things about

*

myself before. The gambling. Booze.

Drugs. Lying. But, despite sleeping with men for money, I've never

questioned my sexuality. That's the core of any man, any person.

How can I be unsure of that, especially

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considering the pain and humiliation?

Maybe Lydia was right, and we all

swing both ways to some degree.
It's

all according to necessity
she said.

Does that mean if every woman

disappeared, I'd actively crave men?

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Not Craving Any

Of the guys at Vince's tonight.

I glance from face to face, chest to chest. Nope. Not a single twitch.

Maybe there's hope for me after all.

Now if Lady Luck will just decide to climb into my lap, hang out.

*

Hey,
says Vince.
Anyone bring

smoke? He
looks straight at me, not expecting me to say yes. It's been weeks since I had enough

cash to score. My connection had

almost given up on me too.

*

I surprised him, and I surprise

Vince now. "Actually, yeah, I do."

I hand over a couple of big blunts, light another, pass it on. Only way to convince Vince to introduce me to his bookie friends is with generosity.

*

Meanwhile, it's poker. The key to winning this game is properly

assessing the competition. I know

most of the guys at the table--Vince, best player here, a regular bluff master, not afraid to lay down a major bet.

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Justin is an elementary school janitor.

Can't afford to bet big. Never ups the ante.

Sitting down is Shaun, UNR freshman, innocent-looking, but knows how to bet.

Finally, there's Misty's boyfriend,

Chris. He's a total jerk, and wasted.

*

A fair bit of coke has been passed

around, but I'm guessing he's been smoking ice. Maybe even crashing, despite the cola. His mood is mean.

Fucking deal already, would

you? Haven't got all night.

*

Vince stares him down, trying to decide, no doubt, if he's going to have to deal with Chris some

way other than nicely. He starts with nice.
Take it easy, man.

Where you have to be, anyway?

*

Chris grabs the cards, now in a pile in front of him. He sorts

them one way, then another, shoots

eyeball arrows around the table as if

we're all just waiting to give our

hands away.
Got a date with Misty.

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Fact Is

I've got a date with Misty. Well, not with her, exactly. We both have a date with some sexually confused

out-of-towner. Three-ways aren't

quite so bad. Misty isn't the brightest

girl. But she's got a killer body to focus

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on. It's okay to be turned on by that.

The evening's little snort party will

help me out too. In fact, we might

even have fun. But, far as I know,

Chris isn't coming along. "You sure

you're hooking up with Misty tonight?"

*

The table falls silent. Not even a minimal buzz as Chris gives me an odd look.
That's what I said.

Why? You know something

I don't?
He throws three cards on the table. Waits for more.

*

And also for my answer. "Uh.

It's just I thought she had to work

tonight. You know. For Lydia."

I draw two cards. Dig way down for composure. Lady Luck is definitely

rock 'n' rolling with me. Full house.

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Chris doesn't respond. For some

reason, that bothers me a lot. I look over at him and he's staring at me, head tipped as if listening to something

no one else can hear. Little

voices in his head? Schizo, too?

*

It's all lost on Vince, who draws

last. One card... C'mon, Lady, don't trade partners now! His face

gives nothing away. But when he bets, we all gulp in breaths.

He tosses some chips.
A hundred.

*

Justin folds. Shaun considers quite a while, finally calls. Chris swears

softly, breaks out in a sweat, trying to figure out if Vince is bluffing, decides he must be. He calls. I call.

We show our cards. My full house

*

wins the pot! Six-fifty! Oh, yeah.

Lady and I are doing a full-on mosh

now. One thing I've managed to learn, "Thanks so much, gentlemen, but it's time for me to go." It
is
time, in fact. My date is in twenty minutes.

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Hot Damn

I am feeling good. I stop at the bank, make two deposits. Into my account.

Into Mom's account. Not much, but enough to help out a little. I'd cancel

my three-way, but I promised I'd do

it. Lydia is expecting me to. And so is Misty. Who I really want to see

right now is Ronnie. First time in a long time I'm feeling the need for a long, healthy roll in the hay.

I give her a call, half expecting her to be out with somebody else.

*

But she answers immediately.

Hello?
Oh God! The sound of her husky voice lifts me even

higher.
Uh, hello? Is somebody

there?
When I let her know it's

me, she is standoffish at first.

*

"You can be mad at me. I deserve

it. But Ronnie, I swear, I'm so sorry for pushing you away lately. Things

have been... uh, bad. We can talk about that later. I get off in an hour and a half. I know that's pretty late...."

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Zero hesitation.
No! Come over.

I'll stay up, however long it takes

you to get here.
She pauses, and I

can imagine her voice growing

thick in her throat.
Goddamn you,

Cody,
she sputters.
What took so long?

*

I haven't cried in a long while, not since I mostly got over Jack.

I pretty much thought my tear

machine was broken for good.

But no. I can barely choke out,

"I don't know. But I do know

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I love you. See you in a little while."

I can't get her off my mind as I drive to the address Lydia gave me. I feel

awful. Feel wonderful. And for the first time in a long time, I feel

hopeful. A few more dates, a couple

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of big wins, I'll get out of this

business for good. I'll find a real

job. Put money away. Help Mom

somehow. Stay in school, work my

ass off and get into college. Oh, there's the motel. First things first.

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I'm a Little Late

Usually Misty waits for me and we

go in together. Guess she didn't want the guy to think we weren't coming.

I check the room number. Twice.

One time I knocked on the wrong

door. Was that guy ever surprised!

*

This time when I knock, Misty calls,

Come on in, baby.
I do, find her already mostly naked. The guy, who's a totally forgettable middle-aged

nothing, is completely naked.

Jeez, man. I'm only five minutes late.

*

The dude, who isn't much down there either, despite it being at full

mast, turns his attention away from

Misty, focuses on me.
What are you waiting for? Time is money, you know.
Like it's going to take him

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much time at all. But whatever. It
is
his money. And less time is better.

Misty distracts him with her yummy

boobs and I start to pull my T-shirt over my head. Suddenly the door explodes behind me. What the...?

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Something--bear or bulldozer--

knocks me face forward to the floor, forcing my breath into the carpet.

Misty screams and Nothing Man

yells,
What the fuck,
as my right

kidney takes two massive punches.

*

My shirt is still over my head and

I can't see a damn thing as I fight for air. But I hear
crack-crack-crack.