Tricks (35 page)

Something nasty bubbles up in my belly. But I'm not

ready to confess--not yet.

"I read. Swam. Worked out."

*

Sounds like a pretty easy day.

You have it easy here, don't

you, Seth?
He doesn't wait for my reply.
So why in the hell

did you want to go and blow it?

*

Okay, he knows. But how?

And what does that mean to me? And how much, exactly, does he know?

"What are you talking about?"

582

He advances, sipping his drink like he doesn't have a care.

You know exactly what I'm

talking about. Did I give you

permission to pick up some

*

guy in the workout room? Slip
into the sauna for, shall

we say, an afternoon quickie?

Did you think I wouldn't keep

tabs on you? All you young fags

*

are alike. Simon's philandering

taught me a lesson--never trust a boy toy. And here in Vegas, there is no shortage of pretty

faggots, willing to do just about

*

anything to earn an extra dime.

That includes acting as bait.

I didn't expect Jared to follow through and actually do you, but whatever.
I start to protest.

*

Carl holds up a hand.
Shut

your mouth. You have twenty-four

hours to pack up and get the hell out of here. Be gone

when I get home tomorrow

583

He Will Not Allow

Explanations or arguments.

He's had his say and I am to leave. He doesn't give a damn

where or how. Won't even front a few bucks to send me on my way.

*

I wander into my room, turn on my computer--the computer.

It belongs to Carl. I've got

less than a day and zero capital to start completely over.

*

I have exactly one resource-- a better, buffer body than when

I arrived. I'll have to barter it more carefully. It's the only

one I have, after all. I go to

*

Craigslist, Las Vegas Personals.

Click on Men 4 Men, scan the ads.

Here's a Help Wanted ad for Have Ur

Cake Escorts. Just in case, I jot down the number. But what I'm

*

really looking for is another Carl.

There are a few possibilities.

Can't be too picky. I send

out several e-mail intros, wait

less than patiently for a response.

584

A Poem by Whitney Lang
Less Than Patiently

The Lady waits. Pretty

China White demands

I listen, and hold her in my arms.

She is my only friend, my one ally against the low, throbbing

ache inside my brain, against the loneliness

my heart was not

prepared to hold.

Will it break beneath the obscene weight of him

not loving me? How is it possible I could

have been so very wrong

again?

585

Whitney No Love

In this world for me. No hope.

No future. Nothing but plodding through each day, not quite

surviving. I am not alive

*

except when I'm fresh off a plunge, that first rush after a hot shot.

Then, for scant minutes, life

rages through my veins, a river.

*

Bryn comes later and later each

day, if he comes at all. Sometimes

I wait, barely hanging on, wondering if he's back in Santa

*

Cruz, combing the mall for a new

Whitney. Then I get mad. Not only because my body is twisted with spasms of need, but also because I should

*

be there. Not him. I belong there--

used to belong there. Don't belong

there or anywhere like this. Waiting for maintenance. And so, I've come up

586

with a plan. Bryn isn't the only supplier in Vegas. Sometimes they hang out at strip clubs. And, I suspect, I can find

one who might be up for a trade.

*

I watch from a distance as a car

pulls up against the sidewalk, a block down the street from Skin Tight.

Don't know if the deal was set up before

*

or if this is a regular haunt for the guy who goes to the window, collects

some cash, and tosses something at the passenger. The deal is down in less

*

than thirty seconds. I can't be sure it was H without a little scamming of my own. The guy, who is pretty much a stereotypical Latino deal-meister,

*

turns back toward Skin Tight. I sidle

up, flash some thigh. "Hey, honey.

You looking for a little fun?" Already

broke one of Bryn's rules. But this guy

*

def isn't the heat. He is high himself, but not on junk. His pupils shout "crystal."

My heart sinks. I start to back away.

More reasons than one for rules, I guess.

587

The guy grabs my wrist, pulls me into him.
Hey, now. Where you going?

You ain't a whore
and
a tease, are you? 'Cause that might make me mad.

*

I've gotten a whole lot better at reading

guys since my little choking incident.

This is not a guy I want to make mad.

"No, baby. Just a whore, and a good

*

one." Might as well play the game for money if the Lady isn't on the line.

But I'm not giving up on that yet.

"I was just hoping maybe you had

*

a little something in your pocket."

I run my knee up over his bulging

groin. "Something besides that, I mean, and something to take me down."

*

His turn to assess my eyes, looking for lies. What he finds is a junkie.

He shakes his head.
Don't got no bonita, baby. But I could maybe get some.

*

That's the crystal talking. He wants to get off, not an easy thing, high on meth.

I hate doing guys on meth. Takes too

long. But hey, this was my deal.

588

We Agree on a Time

To meet, and a corner three blocks from my apartment, just in case

Lorenzo can't score. Not having

some crazed meth fiend thinking

*

he's getting laid with nothing

coming back the other way. After

Mr. Omaha, it was days before I'd

let a john come through my door.

*

Bryn was patient. For maybe one day.

After that he was all,
Get over it already.

Odds are you'll meet up with a creep

once in a while. You had your once.

*

He promised to check in more often, to keep a better eye on me. But it hasn't

happened that way. Ginger has showed

more concern, and I don't even know her.

*

She knocks on my door at least

every other day.
Just making sure

you're still breathing,
she says.

Doesn't come in very often.

*

But that's okay. Not like we're best

friends or anything. Girls in the business

don't really have friends. Our lives are all about acquaintances.

589

I'm Supposed to Meet

My latest acquaintance soon. Don't

know if I can make it three blocks without a little help. Please, Lorenzo, score! I'm getting so low. It's only

*

been a few hours since my last visit with the Lady, but I'm shaking like it was yesterday. Just a small fix for now. If Lorenzo doesn't come through,

*

maybe Bryn will show. I only know

I've got to stop the knotting in my belly.

Ah! Better. Have to go while my brain

can still tell my feet to walk. Three blocks.

*

Lorenzo! Right on time. Fine quality in a dealer, right? Sexy. Look sexy.

Forget the schoolgirl part. This guy

isn't shopping for innocence. "Hey, doll.

*

Find what I'm looking for?" He smiles, takes my hand, slides it down into his pocket. Not one bag. Two. And, farther down, something else.

*

No problem. It's part of the deal.

My guy says dis stuff is pretty good.

You wanna pay for one and fuck for one, or what? We
start to walk.

590

I have a little cash stashed. Don't tell

Bryn about my "extra" deals. A little

extra cash for a little extra service.

"Sounds good." Meth or no meth,

*

though, we have to go quick. I'm on

Bryn's clock already. "Before we start, show me the stuff." He does. It isn't

white or even brown. "What's this?"

*

You never seen black tar? Baby,
it's the best. Believe me, those boys in Mexico know their shit. Now come over here. Take a taste of this.

*

I've heard of black tar Mexican.

Never tried it, but guess I'm gonna.

Ol' Lorenzo gets a ride around the world.

Doesn't take as long as I thought.

591

By the Time He Leaves

The Lady is singing a siren song to me. Might as well try the black, see if Lorenzo's acquaintanceship is worthy of long-term cultivation.

*

Two bags stashed, might as well take a real rocket ride. I cook a massive

spoon. Don't even bother to look for a vein more concealed than on my arm.

*

Five. Four. Three... Whoosh!

Incredible. Lorenzo, I love you, baby.

Rush! Waves of pleasure flood my brain.

It's a regular cerebral orgasm.

*

Wait. No. Too much. Down I go.

And oh, the noise. The noise inside my head. Pounding. Blowing.

Exploding like a hurricane.

*

Close my eyes against the wind.

Spinning in my brain. Air. Need air.

Suck it in. Thick. Can't breathe it in.

Damn stinking carpet. Again. Slow.

*

Slow. Slow. Heart. Beats. Slow.

Wind. Spins. Inside my head.

Don't like this. Bad wind. Hurricane.

Slow. Sleep. Slow. Sleep...

592

A Poem by Ginger Cordell
Wind

Shuffles autumn feet across November sand, stirring grit like ice

chips. Crystal white.

It blows along deserted sidewalks, crusts

lonely avenues. Where

has she gone? Panicked,

I search for her in familiar places.

Restaurants. Theaters.

Alleyways adjacent the heart of the city. I call out her name. It returns, hollow, an echo.

593

Ginger Late Night Last Night

Three outcalls, one post-midnight.

It was a good night for tips, so Alex and I celebrated with fine Italian

*

dining and people watching on the strip. I slept in this morning, lay in our bed, still perfumed

*

with our lovemaking. We don't

do that so much now. I've missed

it. But more and more, Alex flinches

*

when I touch her. Not just me,

I think. But anyone. Everyone.

It took twenty minutes of gentle

*

kissing and easy massage to arouse her even slightly. And while she had

no problem pleasing me, nothing

*

I did could bring her all the way.

Sex for Alex is nothing but a job.

It isn't in my power to fix that.

*

It's strange, really. Strange and sad. When we first got here, it was me who shrank from touch.

594

Alex taught me the joy of skin against my own skin. She showed

me how to feel without fear.

*

Now she's the one afraid to feel.

I wish that I could change that.

But she's built a fortress around

*

her. A sand castle. It's bound to crumble. And when the sea

rushes in, I'm afraid she'll drown.

595

It's Almost Noon

By the time I yank myself out of bed. "Alex?" I call, but my

intuition tells me I'm alone.

*

I check the bathroom, wander into the living room. No Alex.

Damn, damn, damn. She can't be

*

out turning tricks already! What is wrong with her? We don't need the extra money. I don't get it.

*

I want to find her, drag her off the street or out of whatever

car she has gotten into. But Vegas

*

is a big city. Alex could be

anywhere. Still, she has a few

favorite places. I clean up,

*

get dressed, call a cab, head

out the door. Damn. What's

going on across the parking

*

lot? Looks like a garage sale.

Oh. Whitney. An ambulance

took her away a few days ago.

596

Guess the landlord decided

she's not coming back and neither is her sleazy pimp boyfriend.

*

A small knot of people stand around watching the landlord

haul her stuff out of the place.

*

Sounds like the creep is taking

offers. I go up to an older lady.

"Everything for sale, huh?"

*

The woman barely looks at me. Too busy checking out

bargains. She shrugs.
Guess so.

*

Poor Whitney. How far

did you run this time?

"Why? Did she... is she...?"

*

The lady shrugs again.
Don't