“Can I have the rest?” she asked Doo, pointing to the bottle of whiskey lying overturned on the floor mat.
Doo glanced at it quickly and nodded. Gaia put it to her lips and emptied in one gulp. It burned her throat, made her choke. Doo laughed.
They drove out of Providence Park and hit the interstate going west. They traveled past where the bus line ended; it was not more than twenty-five minutes away, but far beyond where many of Gaia’s neighbors without cars had ever ventured. Eventually they arrived at a hotel in the West End called The Studio.
After she got the key from the desk clerk, Doo pulled the car into a parking space directly in front of their room. The world was resting in this part of town. Stepping out of the car, Gaia heard the click of her high heels echo in the air. She could feel the whiskey mixing with her blood. She shuddered, feeling the wind wrapping around her legs, blowing against her face, whispering her name. She stepped up onto the sidewalk and waited as Doo opened the door to the suite that she’d reserved and paid for earlier that day.
Inside, Doo sat on a chair and put her feet up on the sofa. She lit a blunt right away. Gaia didn’t want to risk an incident with Doo, especially when Doo was high and tipsy. She went into the bedroom to get away from the smoke and sort her mind out.
Gaia hadn’t grown up wanting to be this way. At eight years old, survival wasn’t something that entered into daily decisions, like whether to play dress-up or hopscotch. And though, shortly after, she could no longer make sense of her upturned life, it had taken Charlene’s words to make her realize that it wasn’t beauty alone that determined her fate. There were plenty of beautiful girls in the home. She had been marked. It was an obvious fact and the only possible thing to do was embrace it — the same way she had embraced how her legs eventually grew like stems — and use it to her benefit.
Tonight, she would be as irresistible as ever and she would be paid because of it. She set her handbag on the nightstand and took out the Glock, which she slipped underneath a pillow. She sat down to lotion her penny-colored skin and thought about what Charlene had said a year ago, the first time she approached Gaia with Doo’s big scheme. Girl, look at you. You already know they gon’ come after you, whether you like it or not. So why not make them pay for it? Make him forget his own name, his wife’s name, shit, his kids’ names. He’ll think he’s winning, until he gets the bill. Don’t be scared, girl. I’ll be right there. She could almost hear Charlene’s voice, almost feel her in the room.
Doo knocked on the door.
Gaia took a deep breath before she opened it. Doo was standing there with Mr. X. His cropped brown hair was slick with hair gel. His pale blue eyes set a sharp contrast against his all-black business attire. Towering a foot over Doo, his belly was the only part of his body that had already crossed the threshold. He looked to be in his late forties.
“Where’s the other one?” Mr. X queried, scanning the room.
Doo had met Mr. X while she was bartending a party in one of those sprawling estates on Monument Avenue. She had been keeping him well-stocked in pills and cocaine ever since, and had been secretly following him, studying him for weeks.
Gaia reached for his hand. It was plump and sweaty. She slowly rubbed the back of it with her thumb. “Char’s not feeling well. It’s just me tonight. Is that okay?”
He hesitated, looking thoughtfully at Gaia. She didn’t doubt for a second that he would stay. She was a magnet, a stronger force than even she herself could control. She felt the tension go out of his hand.
“Are you just going to stand there and watch? Get the fuck out,” he told Doo, never taking his eyes off Gaia.
The corners of Gaia’s red lips turned up into a seductive smile. “Watch? I can make her go away like this.” She snapped her fingers.
Mr. X laughed as Gaia pulled him forward over the threshold and kicked the door closed with her foot.
She led him to the bed, purposely swaying her ass, knowing his eyes were fixed there. He sat down and started taking off his shoes. “No,” she said. He looked up at her His lustful stare felt like a tongue licking her face. “Let me do that.”
She undressed him, throwing his pants clear across the room toward the door, as he ran his hands up the inside of her leg, making low, guttural noises. He stood up and she was eye to eye with his coarse chest hair. He was impatient with her, almost tearing her dress.
“Slow,” she whispered.
She had done this dozens of times by now. Each man desperately wanted to invade the space between her legs, not knowing that it did not belong to her. She could never feel any sensation down there because it wasn’t a part of her real body, and any man who entered soon found he would have to pay a higher price than he had thought. That is why she welcomed them and laughed inside while they grunted and moaned. A soundproof wall separated her from them, kept her from hearing the compliments they choked out between heavy breaths. The only sound she would listen for tonight was Doo, tiptoeing back into the room to get their insurance.
Mr. X had Gaia pressed against a wall, between the bed and the nightstand. Her nose was crushed against his neck and she breathed in his woodsy cologne. The scent stung her nostrils and went sliding down her throat, into her mouth. It sat bitterly on the back of her tongue. She hadn’t smelled it in three years, but the scent was unmistakable. Suddenly, his lips felt familiar against her skin. His hands were bony and wrinkled. She thought her knees might buckle as she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, her head growing light. She was losing it. The control was slipping from her hands and into his. She tried to take it back.
“Stop,” she said.
He tore his lips away from her shoulders. “Why?” he asked breathlessly.
“Your cologne. Wash it off.”
“What? No.”
He pushed her against the wall again. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he yanked her head back and smothered her protests with his lips. She looked up into his eyes, but they were closed. What color had Gardener’s eyes been? Her breathing was so staccato that her chest started to ache. And the scent, his scent, was so thick she feared she might be suffocated. She gasped when he lifted her leg and forced himself inside of her. For the first time in years, she felt something. She tried to expand herself, to make herself wide enough for two ships to pass through.
She didn’t know how long it lasted, but when it was over, she heard him say, “That was amazing.” She heard his zipper going up, his expensive loafers sliding against the carpet, the door swinging closed. Lying naked on the bed, she wondered if it was her or the room that was spinning. She closed her eyes to try and regain her balance. When she opened them, she was not alone. Doo was leaning over her. Gaia tried to sit up, but she felt pinned to the bed. Her throat was dry and her tongue was like cotton.
Doo was smiling. “I got the pictures. You did good. See, we didn’t even need Charlene. We’re a great team.” She brushed a stray hair away from Gaia’s face.
Gaia watched Doo’s lips come closer and closer and shut her eyes when she tasted whiskey and stale cigarettes on Doo’s thick tongue.
Gaia shook her head, started to say no.
“Shh,” Doo’s mouth whispered. Her hands came up to grip one of Gaia’s exposed breasts.
Trembling, Gaia’s fingers searched for the cold steel underneath her pillow. Her arm felt like it weighed fifty pounds when she lifted the gun and swung it over and over against the back of Doo’s head. The hard steel connected with bone and made a cracking sound. Doo shrieked in pain and covered her head with both hands. They fell to the ground with a thud, the lamp, the alarm clock, and the nightstand all clattering down with them.