Genuine Fraud(35)

“You’re supposed to say sex work,” said the bartender, winking at them. “Not whoring.”

Jule finished her drink and asked for a third.

“It was just stuff exploding and a guy in a red suit,” Kenny said. “You’ve been hanging out with those book club friends too much. You always get sensitive after you hang out with them.”

“Oh, up yours,” the lady said, but she said it nicely. “You’re so jealous of my book club friends.”

Kenny noticed Jule looking at them. “Hey there,” he said, lifting his beer.

Jule felt the three Kahlúas wash over her like a sticky wave. She smiled at the lady. “That’s your wife,” she said thickly.

“I’m his girlfriend,” said the lady.

Jule nodded.

The evening began to tilt. Kenny and his lady, they were talking to her. Jule was laughing. They said she should eat some food.

She couldn’t find her mouth. The French fries were too salty.

Kenny and his lady were still talking movies. The lady hated the guy in the red suit.

Who was that guy? Did he have a raccoon? He was friends with a tree. No, a unicorn. The guy made of rocks was always sad. He was stuck being rocks all the time, so nobody loved him. Then there was the one who didn’t talk about who he was. He was old, but he had a good body and a metal skeleton. Wait, wait. There was a blue guy, too. And a naked woman. Two blue people. Suddenly Jule was on the floor of the bar.

She didn’t know how she got there. Her hands were sore. There was something wrong with her hands. Her mouth felt strange and sweet. So much Kahlúa.

“You staying at Del Mar, the resort up the road?” Kenny’s lady said to Jule.

Jule nodded.

“We should walk her back, Kenny,” the lady said. She was squatting on the floor by Jule. “That road’s not lit. She could wander in front of a car.”

Then they were outside. Kenny wasn’t anywhere near them. The lady was holding Jule’s arm. She walked Jule up the dark road to where the lights of the Del Mar shone.

“I need to tell you a story,” Jule said loudly. She had to say stuff to Kenny’s lady.

“Do you, now?” the lady said. “Watch your feet, there. It’s dark.”

“It’s a story about a girl,” said Jule. “No, a story about a boy. Long time ago. This boy, he pushed a girl he knew against a wall. Some other girl, not me.”

“Um-hm.”

Jule knew she wasn’t telling it the way it needed to be told, but she was telling it. Now she wouldn’t stop. “He had his ugly way with that girl in the alley behind the supermarket, in the night. Right? You know what I mean?”

“I think so.”

“This girl knew him from around town and went back there with him when he asked her to because he had a pretty face. This stupid girl didn’t know how to say no the right way. Not with her fists. Or maybe it didn’t matter what she said because he didn’t listen. Point is, this girl had no muscle. No skills. She had a plastic baggie full of milk and doughnuts.”

“Are you from the South, honey?” said Kenny’s lady. “I didn’t notice before. I’m from Tennessee. Where you from?”

“She didn’t tell any grown-ups what happened, but she told a couple friends in the ladies’ room. That was how I found out about it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“This boy, this same boy, he was walking home from a movie one night. Two years later. I was sixteen and, you know, I’m in shape. Did you know that about me? I’m in shape. So one night I went to the movies and I saw him. I saw the boy as I was going home. I shouldn’t have been on the street alone, most people woulda said. But I was. That boy shouldn’t have been alone, either.”

This whole idea suddenly seemed funny. Jule felt she needed to stop walking in order to laugh. She planted her feet and waited for the laugh to come. But it didn’t.

“I had a blue slush in my hand,” she went on, “the big kind you get at the movies. Strappy heels. It was summer. Do you like pretty shoes?”

“I have bunions,” said the lady. “Come on, let’s walk now.”

Jule walked. “I took off my shoes. And I called that boy’s name. I told him a fib about needing to call a cab, there on the corner in the dark. I said my phone was dead and could he help me? He thought I was harmless. I had a shoe in one hand and a drink in the other. My second shoe was on the ground. He came over. I tossed the slush in his face left-handed, swung at him with the heel. It hit him in the temple.”

Jule waited for the lady to say something. But the lady was silent. She kept hold of Jule’s arm.

“He lunged for my waist, but I brought up my knee and caught him in the jaw. Then I swung the shoe again. I brought it right down on the top of his head. Soft spot.” It seemed important to explain exactly where the shoe had gone. “I hit him with the shoe, again and again.”

Jule stopped walking and forced the lady to look her in the face. It was very dark. She could only see the kind wrinkles around the lady’s eyes, but not the eyes themselves. “He lay with his mouth hanging open,” Jule said. “Blood out his nose. He looked dead, ma’am. He didn’t get up. I looked down the street. It was late. Not even a porch light was on. I couldn’t tell if he was dead. I picked up the slush cup and my shoes and I walked home.