Slow Squeeze (Iris Thorne Mysteries Book 2) Page 13

  “How awful.” Iris was staring at the mole on Barbie’s face again. She put her finger up to touch it, but touched a spot to the left. “Poor Barbie.”

  “That’s only the half of it. My two older brothers used to have their way with me and my younger brother.”

  “No way!” Art leapt up with outrage. He straddled two benches.

  “Yes, they did.” Barbie chewed her lower lip.

  Iris stared up at Art. He seemed to be ten feet tall. She leaned her head against Barbie’s shoulder as she watched him. “What about Daddy?”

  “He didn’t get in on the action, if that’s what you mean. I don’t know if he knew. My brother and I were afraid to tell him. Figured he’d just beat us. You know, blame us.”

  “Whatcha do?” Iris asked.

  “When I was fifteen, I looked twenty-one. I left home and went to Atlanta. The only work I could get was as a stripper. It was good money. But I never prostituted myself. Some of those girls did, but unh-uh, not me. Stripped for a few years then got a more legitimate job as a waitress for Hal Stringfellow. You know the rest.”

  Art grabbed the bottle of tequila and splashed some into three cups. He handed a cup to Barbie and one to Iris. “Hal deserves a toast.” He held his cup out. Barbie and Iris held theirs out to meet it. “To Hal.”

  “To Hal.” Iris chimed.

  “May his li’l ol’ redneck heart rest in peace.” Barbie took a sip of the tequila, then set the cup next to her on the bench. She plucked at the neckline of her jumpsuit, straightening the collar, which had gone awry during the football game.

  “Have you ever gone back home?” Iris asked.

  “Nope.” Barbie briskly shook her head. “Never did. Used to think I’d go back, flashin’ diamonds and furs. Then I thought, what for? They’d just try to borrow money from me. Or laugh. I keep up with my youngest brother. He lives in Texas. Runs a janitorial supply business. Got a coupla little kids, wife. Turned out good.”

  “Hell of a story,” Iris said.

  “It’s no story,” Barbie said indignantly. “It’s the truth.”

  Iris looked at her. “I didn’t mean you made it up, I just meant it’s a hell of a thing, you know? To have happened.”

  Art was again standing with one foot on the bench above and one on the bench below. “I’ve got the munchies. We got any food left?”

  “No,” Iris said. “I’m starving, too.” She stood and started walking down the bleachers, stepping from bench to bench.

  “There’s a little store down the hill,” Art said. “I’ll make a food run.”

  “You ain’t fit to drive, Arturo,” Barbie said.

  “I’ll walk. What’s your pleasure?

  Barbie patted her belly. “Nothing for me. I’ve already ruined my diet for the weekend.”

  Iris jumped off the last bleacher onto the athletic field. She ran across it with her arms spread. “Oreos!” she shouted as she ran. “And Doritos!” She turned and ran back. “Barbecued Doritos.” She kicked her leg and her shoe flew off, landing somewhere in the dark. She kicked off her other shoe. She pirouetted on the grass until she got dizzy and collapsed. Lying on the grass on her back, she blinked as she waited for the world to right itself. She looked at the sky, and muttered, “John. Asshole.”

  “I’ll see you later.” Art started walking. Halfway across the field, he disappeared into the darkness.

  Iris suddenly got up and yelled at the sky with her arms spread. “Fucking men. Fucking John Somers. Asshole!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. “Asshole!” A dog somewhere started to bark. Iris started to sob. She stood on the dark field and held her head in her hands.

  Barbie walked over and put her arms around her. “I know, honey. I know.”

  “How could he leave me?” Iris sobbed.

  “C’mon, sit down.” She sat on the grass and Iris lumbered next to her.

  “How could he leave me for that fucking earth mother?” Iris leaned on Barbie’s shoulder and cried.

  Barbie put her arms around her and rocked her back and forth. “There, there. It’s okay. Barbeh’s here.”

  “My life’s going down the tubes. Nothing’s gone right. It started when Alley was murdered. I can still see him lying in the street. I see…” Iris’s voice caught in her throat. She sobbed onto Barbie’s shoulder. Her shoulders shook. She inhaled and exhaled trembling breaths.

  Barbie rocked her back and forth.

  Iris clumsily drew her fingers along the tracks her tears made in Barbie’s silk jumpsuit. “I’m wrecking your clothes. All your pretty purple clothes.”

  “That’s okay, honey. Just get it all out.”

  Iris bolted up. “Man, I’m really stoned. Wow. That was strong stuff.” All at once, she stopped crying. She stared at Barbie.

  “Whatcha looking at, honey?”

  “I don’t have any purple clothes.” She shook her head sadly.

  “I’ll buy you something purple.”

  Iris looked intently into Barbie’s eyes. “Thank you. Thank you, Barbie. You’re such a good friend.” She raised her hand to caress Barbie’s cheek.

  Barbie leaned into Iris’s touch. “Sweet girl.” She pressed her hand against Iris’s, which was against her face.

  Iris pulled her hand away and let it drop to the ground. “No I’m not. John wouldn’t have left me if I was.”

  “His loss, sugar.”

  Iris smiled. She raised her pointed index finger. “I like your attitude.” She closed her eyes and lay back onto the grass, letting out a long sigh.

  Barbie slowly leaned closer and closer until her lips were almost touching Iris’s.

  Iris’s breathing deepened as she dropped off to sleep.

  Barbie hovered above Iris, feeling the other woman’s breath against her skin. She closed the distance and opened her lips around Iris’s.

  Iris opened her eyes.

  Barbie moved her head back and looked at Iris without saying anything.

  Iris wrinkled her brow. “What are you doing?”

  “Just bein’ here for you, darlin’.”

  “Why are you so close?”

  “I’m right where I was.”

  Iris touched her lips. “Did you kiss me?”

  “Kiss you?”

  Iris unsteadily got to her feet.

  Barbie leaned back on her hands. “You find the idea offensive?”

  “This is weird.” Iris walked several paces rubbing her head, tangling her hair in her hands. “You did, didn’t you?”

  “Honey, I’m just sittin’ here, listenin’ to you talk. I don’t know what you’re goin’ off about now.”

  “Talk? About what?”

  “About John.”

  “John? What was I saying about John?”

  “About how he’s always buggin’ you about whether you have that embezzled money.”

  Iris rubbed her forehead, trying to remember. “Why would I say that?”

  Barbie shrugged. “I don’t know, sugar.”

  “Hell, he ought to know.”

  “He knows where you buried it.”

  “I didn’t say that. Why would I say that?”

  “I guess I didn’t hear you right. What did you say?”

  Iris combed her hair with her fingers. She stopped, dropped her hands, and faced Barbie. “Just why are you so interested?”

  “Honey, I’m not interested. You were the one who asked me what you were talking about.”

  Iris leaned her head back and regarded Barbie skeptically, her head wobbling on her neck. “Just why are you so interested?” she repeated.

  “I told you.” Barbie got up from the ground. “You were talkin’ about it. Don’t you believe me? You just said I was your good friend.”

  “But it’s not something I talk about.”

  “You don’t trust me. Must be lonely being such a distrustful person.”

  “I’m not distrustful.”

  “Maybe that’s one reason John went back to his ex-wife.”


  “What?”

  “There’s gotta be some reason. I’m not being mean, honey. I’m just tryin’ to help you.”

  Iris frowned. “It wasn’t my fault, was it?” She shook her head. “No. It was him. He’s the asshole.” She jabbed her pointed index fingers toward the city skyline. “Asshole!”

  She started walking toward the bleachers. She tripped over an uneven spot in the grass and stumbled for another three steps before she managed to stop her forward motion. She looked back accusingly at the lump in the grass, then looked down at her bare feet. She wiggled her toes in the cool grass. A slow smile crossed her face.

  “This grass feels great. I can’t remember the last time I stood barefoot in grass.” She walked toward the bleachers. “Here’s the wine. It fell between the benches.” She fished out the bottle, started to pull out the cork, and set the bottle on a bench. “I’ve had enough.”

  “Yes, you have.” Barbie retrieved Iris’s shoes and handed them to her.

  “Thank you.” Iris sat on a bench and clumsily put a shoe on one foot, then the other. She looked intently at Barbie, putting put her hand to her forehead. “What were we talking about? We were talking about something.”

  “The money. You were telling me where the money is.”

  A look of recognition washed over Iris’s face. “Oh, the money. Right. Alley.” She chuckled. “He was carrying almost half a million dollars around in his briefcase.” She held her ribs and laughed and looked at Barbie to share the joke.

  Barbie chuckled.

  Iris threw her head back, laughing. She lay back against the bench behind her, gasping for breath. “In his briefcase. That Alley. I’m tellin’ ya. Oh, boy.” She wiped tears from her eyes, then stared across the field. “I’m gonna burn it. It’s like a curse.” She lowered her eyes at Barbie. “If I had it, that is. I’d get it out and burn it.”

  “It’s in a safe, sugar?” Barbie asked.

  Iris pushed up from the bench behind her until she was sitting straight. “If I had it, I’d have it locked up, wouldn’t I? And not in my house. So don’t even think about that. In a safe-deposit box. That’s where it would be, if I had it. Safe from nosy, prying people.” She glared at Barbie.

  “You’re calling me nosy? That’s not a nice thing to say, especially after everything I’ve done for you.”

  “Done for me?”

  Art yelled at them from across the field. “I have returned.” He was carrying a brown paper grocery bag. “What have you two been up to?”

  “Just girl talk,” Barbie said.

  “I’m not gonna touch that.” He tore a piece of beef jerky between his teeth.

  Iris looked expectantly at the bag.

  Art reached into it and handed her a bag of Oreos and an open half-gallon of milk.

  “Yes!” Iris snatched them from Art, tore open the Oreo package, took out a cookie, twisted the two halves apart, then scraped off the filling with her bottom teeth. She ate the chocolate halves. “Oh,” she moaned. “This tastes wonderful.” She twisted open another one and ate it. “This is so good.” She thirstily drank from the carton of milk.

  She put down the carton, looked intently at Barbie, then across the darkened field. She looked back at Barbie. “What were we talking about?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Barbie drove the Mustang home while Art slept in the front seat and Iris slept in the back.

  In her condo building, Iris thought she was doing okay walking down the corridor until she careened off a wall. In one hand, she clung to the cellophane corner of an almost empty bag of Oreos. In her bedroom, she pulled off her shoes, pants, and sweater, took off her underwear, threw everything across the room, pulled up the covers, and was immediately out.

  Barbie drove through the early-morning streets of Santa Monica, Venice, and Marina del Rey. A moist fog had rolled in and the thick air was a chilly contrast with the clear, bright sunshine of the day. A few party animals were still in the streets, on foot and in cars, catching their second wind. Barbie parked in the visitors’ parking area of her apartment complex.

  “Arturo. Time to get up.” She roughly shook his left shoulder. “Arturo! I can’t leave you here all night. You might get mugged or something. Wake up.”

  Art turned his head, groaned, and opened his eyes a slit. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the parking lot of my apartment building. You’re not drivin’ home, mister. Come upstairs.”

  She got out of the car, then went to the passenger door and opened it. Art put his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her down, and kissed her wetly. He rubbed her breasts through the purple jumpsuit.

  “Figures you’d wake up horny,” she said.

  “I’m always horny.”

  “I know. It’s one of your best qualities.”

  Barbie released the seat to recline against the backseat. She bit the crotch of his jeans, pulling the denim with her teeth, then hitched up the thighs of her jumpsuit and climbed on top of him with one knee on each side of the bucket seat. He fumbled with the buttons on her jumpsuit, pulled taught by her breasts. He fed the top three buttons through the button holes and the fabric sprang open. He cupped her breasts and rubbed her nipples through her purple lace brassiere. Barbie reached up and snapped open the clasp. Her breasts tumbled out. Art rubbed his face in them, then took one of her nipples in his mouth.

  She grabbed his hair with both hands, arched her back, and moaned. “Keep that up, I’ll pop off.”

  He kept it up.

  “Wait, sugar,” Barbie said breathlessly. “Stop. Wait.”

  She pulled the jumpsuit off her shoulders, then grunted as she worked it down her hips. She took off her purple lace panties. The light from a parking lot lamp reflected off her pale skin.

  She unzipped his jeans and pulled him free. He slid his jeans down past his knees and put his foot on the ground outside the Mustang’s door. She tried to slip him inside. She shimmied her hips around on top of him. She shimmied again.

  Art put his hand against his forehead. “I can’t. I’ve had too much to drink.”

  She lifted her hips and examined him clinically. “I guess this was not meant to be.”

  “Sorry.” He leaned back against the seat, raised his hips, and pulled up his jeans.

  She rubbed the skin around her lips, trying to neaten her smudged lipstick, then got out of the car, stark naked. “Happens to the best of ‘em.” She reached over Art to grab her jumpsuit. He was breathing deeply. She pushed his shoulder. “Arturo?”

  The rhythm of his breathing didn’t change.

  She stepped into the jumpsuit, not bothering to put on her underwear. She pushed his shoulder again. He moaned a little, crossed his arms over his chest, and settled more deeply into the seat.

  “Arturo, wake up.”

  He began to snore.

  “Good Lord. Pass out here in the parking lot.”

  She looked at his left arm, which was lying across his chest. She picked up his hand and looked at his watch. It was an inexpensive digital model with two rows of tiny buttons for programming telephone numbers and dates.

  “Why you wearin’ that cheap thing tonight?”

  She placed his arm on his lap and picked up his right arm. The sleeve of her jumpsuit brushed his face. He didn’t twitch. She draped his fingers across hers as if she were giving him a manicure and rubbed her thumb over the insignia and initials of his class ring.

  She twisted the ring on his finger. It was snug, but she could turn it. She pulled. It stopped at his knuckle. He stirred. She froze, still holding his hand.

  “New account…”

  “What, sugar?”

  He shifted his feet. “Five thous…” He pulled his hand from hers, rolled onto his left side, put his left hand under his cheek, and dropped his right hand in front of him on the seat, his fingers curled inward. His breathing became deep and even again.

  “Shoot,” Barbie whispered. She walked around to the driver’s side, working her
jaw. She spat into the palm of her hand, leaned over the door into the car, and worked the spittle underneath the ring and over his knuckle. She held his palm with one hand and the ring with the other. The Mustang’s door pressed painfully against her middle. She held his palm firmly, took a deep breath, and gave the ring a sharp pull. It cleared his knuckle and came off.

  Art frowned in his sleep. The expression was as unguarded as a baby’s. Barbie smiled down at him. She touched his coarse hair and patted the top of his head. She put his ring on her own finger and held her hand up to examine it. The gold was still warm. She grabbed her underwear from the Mustang’s dashboard and walked to her apartment.

  Lorraine reached out in the darkness toward the ringing telephone. She missed it on the first pass, then tried again. “Hello?” she said thickly.

  “Hi, darlin’.”

  Lorraine slowly sat up in bed. “Charlotte?”

  “It’s your Charlotte, sugar.”

  “What time is it?” Lorraine looked at a clock near the bed. “It’s five in the morning.”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot about the time. It’s two hours earlier here. Figured you’d just be comin’ home after our bar closed down. I was just sittin’ around, missin’ you. I’m so sorry, honey, for leaving you that way. I…I’m so sorry.”

  “Where are you?”

  “A wonderful place. So romantic. It’s dark…” Barbie breathed heavily into the phone. “It’s dark but you can still see the outlines of the boats, so many pretty boats.”

  “Boats?”

  “In the marina. The king’s marina, darlin’. Don’t you love it? My apartment’s got a little balcony and big picture windows that look across the boats. I took it because it’s woodsy-lookin’. You always reminded me of the woods, Rainey. The deep, dark woods.” Her breathing grew quicker. “My windows are open and the air is blowin’ over me, over my body. The air is so soft.” She whimpered.