The Speed Queen (16 page)

All right, let's get this over with. Which one did I just do?

If I'd of known there were this many I would of gone a lot faster at the beginning. I don't think it's fair that I have to spend my last hour on earth answering a bunch of lies. Sister Perpetua doesn't either.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to be able to tell my side of the story, and the money's important for Gainey. I'm grateful, honestly. It's just bad timing.

Sister Perpetua says we're all forgiven. Do you believe that? I want to.

Do you even believe in God? Or is that too personal? I figure I'm telling you everything, you can at least answer one question of mine.

Do you know the story "Footprints"? It's a big one here on the Row. Etta Mae has a copy on her wall. It goes like this:

This woman is walking down the beach of Life, and behind her in the sand are two sets of footprints.

"Whose footprints are these?" she says.

And Jesus says, "Those are my footprints, for as long as you live I'll be by your side."

So the woman walks on, and soon a storm of Troubles comes along —drugs and alcohol and adultery and money trouble and sickness. It blinds the woman with despair, but she stumbles on, mile after mile, year after year, and when the storm finally clears, behind her in the sand as far as she can see is one set of footprints.

She thinks Jesus has left her, and she wails and beats her breast and says, "Before, there were two sets of footprints and now there's only one. My Lord and Savior, can you tell me why this is?"

"That's simple." Jesus says. "Since the beginning of your troubles I've been carrying you."

Sometimes when I turn around on that beach there are no footprints at all, just sand.

But I know Jesus won't desert me in my hour of need. I know the sister is right and that God is strong. I won't be forgotten and lost, and I will live forever in the most precious blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

Everything I'm going to say now is true. I've never told anyone this, not even Mr. Jefferies.

I'm sorry, Mr. Jefferies. You believed in me all these years, and I'll always be grateful for that. May God's blessing be on you.

Please remember that I was another person back then, before I accepted Jesus, and that I repent of everything. But I don't scorn that fallen woman, I can't cast the first stone. A lot of her is still in me.

My first thought was that it was just a burglar, probably the one who'd hit Mia Casa a few months back. Then I thought about the guy who'd loaned us the money, because who else knew about it? And sitting there with the light going down, I thought about Natalie, and from there it wasn't far to Lamont, and then the two of them together. I thought of how far they could have gotten by now. I thought of their headlights on in the desert, a jackrabbit scooting through them. And maybe that was a test of faith, because I kept waiting.

In the book I don't know how you'd do this. Waiting isn't very dramatic. But it was to me then. I sat on die touch and smoked my Marlboros until the room went dark.

And you know what? We never found out, not to this day. It could have been anyone. It really could have been kids.

Lamont came home first. I'd put the chain on the door out of habit and had to get up and let him in. I could barely walk I was so scared.

"What's up with the lights?" he said, and I held on to him.

"What's wrong?" he said.

I couldn't say it. I let go of him to get my carbon of the cop's report.

"What is it?" he said.

He flipped the lights on; the place was clean except for my ashtray on the coffee table. One of the butts had fallen on the floor, and when I bent over to get the report, I picked it up.

"Where's the TV?" he said. "Where's the stereo? What the heck is going on here?"

Except he didn't say heck. You know what he said.

"Marjorie," he said, "answer me."

I held the report out and he ripped it from my hand. He read it and looked at me like I could save him if I said the right thing.

"It's all gone," I said.

"What do you mean it's all gone?" he shouted, and pushed me like I was in his way. I fell over the arm of the couch; the carbon floated down to the floor. He stormed into the kitchen and threw the cupboard door open. The lazy Susan was empty.

"Where the heck is everything?" he said. "What the heck is going on here?"

He came into the living room and dove on top of me. He grabbed my throat in both hands and started shaking me, bouncing my head off the cushions and slapping it when it popped up.

"Where is it?" he shouted.

"I don't know," I cried.

This went on tor a while alter I blacked out, because when I woke up I was in the kitchen and he was pushing my face into the lazy Susan.

"What did you do?" he was shouting, and slamming the door on my head. I fell back and held on to his legs, and finally he stopped hitting me and held on to the counter.

"Oh heck," he said. "Heck heck heck." He just said it for a while, then he sat down on the floor with me and held me and kissed me and said he was sorry.

"I'm sorry," I said, because I was. I shouldn't have gone out with my mom and left the money there alone. It was like going off and leaving Gainey. I was so dumb; I didn't even think of it.

"It's my fault," he said. "It was my money.

"It was our money," I said.

"Was."

My eyebrow was cut and the blood was running into my eye. He wiped at it with his sleeve, then kissed the blood away like tears. He took my hand then and kissed my ring.

"I'm sorry," he said again. He didn't have to. I'd already forgiven him.

"What are we going to do?" I said, which was unfair. The only thing he could say was: "I don't know."

I don't think he suspected her at first. It was like me, going from the burglar to the guys who lent us the money— to her, to them. It took a little longer because he was with her when it happened. He didn't really suspect her, he just had to make it look like he did so I wouldn't suspect him.

"Would Natalie do something like this?" he asked me, like I knew her and he didn't.

"You never know what she'll do," I said, then "I don't think so."

"When does she get off work?"

"Around eight, I think," I said, to see if he'd correct me. He didn't.

"You mind if we go over there, just to check?"

"I don't think she'd do this," I said. "I don't think she'd have the guts."

"I just want to make sure," he said, and I wondered if he really was worried, if she'd played both of us, and I thought that that would serve him right.

I woke up Gainey and we buckled the car seat into the Roadrunner. On the way over, Lamont kept banging the steering wheel. He waited for the lights to drop to green, not even looking at me. I just sat there, not saying anything.

"Nine thousand dollars," Lamont said. "Nine, thousand, dollars."

She was surprised to see us. She came out before Lamont pushed the button to order. She was smiling like a model, like it was fun to work at Moxie's. It was busy and a little chilly, and she had pink leg warmers over the laces of her skates, and for a second her legs and even her face looked strange to me, like someone I didn't know. I wondered if she was in love with him the way I was. I wanted to hear her lie to my face so I could remember it when I finally got back at her.

She bent down and stuck her head in Lamont's window so you could see down her blouse. "Hey," she said, "this is great. I can put it on my ticket."

I waited for Lamont to tell her, but he just turned to me and asked me what I wanted. I looked at Gainey like he might decide. "A Cherub-burger for him," I said, "no pickles. And a milk." It was automatic, it's what he had for lunch when I came by for break.

"Gabriel-burger's good tonight," she said.

Lamont got a boatload of Halos, what they called their onion rings. She glided off, her skirt whipping.

"Aren't you going to tell her?" I whispered, because I knew they could hear us inside.

"I'm going to," he said, like he had a plan.

She came back with our order and fit the tray on the window. She'd given us an extra boat of Halos and three pieces of Temptation pie. Lamont motioned her to come closer, and she bent down. He cupped a hand around his mouth and whispered in her ear, and right then, looking at the two of them so close, I thought that I blamed her more because she knew me better. She knew everything, while I'd lied to him.

She looked at me to see if he was telling the truth, and I nodded. She looked back at Lamont with the same face, like it had been her money.

"Heck," she said, just like him, and then she asked him the same question I did.

"I don't know," Lamont said. "I'm figuring that out."

The Order-Matic squawked for her; she had to go. She pushed off and almost ran into another carhop. You could tell she was going to be useless the rest of the shift. Maybe it u'(hi love; I didn't want to know.

"Hew" I called, and she stopped and came back. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

She looked in across Lamont, completely innocent. "Ketchup," I said.

The plan was tor Lamont to go to the guy and see if we could pay it back a little at a time. He'd ask for another loan to stake us. We had the buyers lined up, it was just a matter of getting them the product. The demand was steady; we'd do the same deal three times, give them the profits, and we'd be even.

"Think they'll go for it?" I asked Natalie after Lamont had gone to work. We were in the shower. I was good, I hadn't let on that I knew yet.

"No way," she said.

No, I wanted to tell Natalie first. I kept an eye on Lamont. I called him at work right around break time. I checked his underwear and his pockets and watched his money. I made up errands so I could borrow the car.

She was free to leave but didn't, and I thought that was a bad sign. She was following her heart.

In bed I tried to be a little wilder. I had an advantage; I knew what I was up against. I figured I had to do better than she did, give a little more. Looking back, I'm not even sure it works that way, because at that point I wanted to keep him and not her. I don't know how it works; if I did I'd be a genius.

Little by little I found proof. After our last visit to Moxie's, I spent fifty cents and vacuumed the car, then a few days later in the ashtray there was a little red sword they used to spear their cherries. In bed, he said things I'd never heard before. "Tell me what you'd do for me," he said. "Would you kill for me?"

"Yes," I said, because I didn't want to lose him, "yes, yes," but inside I was like, What are you, nuts?

They still hang people in Washington and Montana. Nowhere else though. The books make it sound like a hard job. It's supposed to snap your neck, not strangle you like you'd think. You have to get the length of the drop right, and the knot, otherwise it'll tear your head off. I don't see a big difference, but I guess it would be embarrassing. I can't imagine it would be that hard though. A lot of people do it at home.

I told Natalie while we were making love. It was a couple of days after we found the money gone. We were all still flipped out about it, so we needed each other more that way. As soon as Lamont pulled out of the lot, Natalie put the chain on.

We didn't make love like at the beginning anymore. It was normal now, nothing unusual, and I thought how exciting it must be for them, just starting. It made me hate her. We took off our own clothes and got under the covers because it was chilly, then when we were warm we decided what we'd like. Natalie had her backpack open. She hadn't taken a shower yet and still smelled like sleep and her last shift. I wondered if she'd had Lamont yesterday, because he wasn't there when I called.

She kissed me and dug around in her pack and came up with a bra we used to tie each other up. She took my wrist.

I stopped her and took the bra. "It's my turn."

"You know how I like it when you take charge." she said.

"I know."

I tied her off tight so her knees didn't touch the sheets. I slid the blindfold on, already knotted, then threaded the chain through the choke ring and yanked it like I was starting a lawn mower.

She coughed it out. "Not so hard," she said. "That hurt."

"You're okay," I said, strapping on the double.

"Just relax," I said, and started in.

She gave a cry and tried to hop forward but the restraints kept her in place.

I gave her a little more and made her shout.

"Be careful!" she said.

"I know about you and Lamont," I said, and she stopped moving. She turned her head like she could look at me.

"No."

"Yes," I said, "I know everything," and I felt good then. I felt like I could forgive her from this position.

"Please," she said. "Marjorie."

"Please what?" I said.

We left the city because Lamont couldn't get the loan. In fact, they wanted it all back.

This time he went to see the guy at a different motel —the Wig-Warn, over on Hefner. He left just before Natalie got home from Moxie's. At midnight he still wasn't back. The TV was gone, so we sat on the couch in our nightgowns and smoked cigarettes, getting up every two minutes to look out the window. We still hadn't made up from the other day. We wouldn't either. It was the last time I'd make love to her.

It got to be one, one-thirty. I emptied the ashtray into the kitchen trash.

"We should call someone," Natalie said.

"Who are we going to call?"

"I don't know," she said, "somebody."

I called the Wig-Warn. Natalie stood right next to me, listening in.

The graveyard guy had just come on. No, he said, he didn't see a yellow Roadrunner.

We went back to the living room.

"Hey," Natalie said at the window. "I think this might be him."

I ran over to her and looked out. The car bounced over the speed bump and its lights blinded us, but when they leveled out it was him.

We ran downstairs to meet him.

He came limping across the lot and we went out in the cold to help.

"What's wrong?" I said.

He pointed to his mouth and shook his head, then pointed to his feet. He tried to say something but it came out retarded, like he was drunk.

"What did they do to you?" Natalie was saying. She was crying, and I was angry that I wasn't.

Inside, his one shoe was bloody. It left prints. It hurt him to go up the stairs. Finally we got him inside and sat him down on the couch. I went to take his shoe off, but he pushed me away. He did a charade of someone writing and Natalie brought him a pen and a pad.

He pointed to his mouth and wrote: NOVACAINE.

We both leaned in to look, but he waved us off.

He wrote: TOE and made a scissors with two fingers.

"Oh my God," Natalie said.

"Let's see what it looks like." I said, and he let me take his shoe off. He just wanted to warn us.

When I took it off, blood splashed across the coffee table and dripped onto the carpet.

It was the pinkie toe, it was gone. You could see where they'd chopped through the bone, it was white like a rib or a pig's knuckle.

Lamont grunted to get our attention back. On the pad he'd written: DON'T TALK. DON'T RUN.

"Forget that," I said, "we're gone."