a cathouse.
I prop myself up in the doorway, leaning slight to the side, making sure to hold the .45 real casual. I turn myself mean inside out, freeze my skin and say, “That’s my dad’s chair.”
His knee knocks up the table and he turns round, flustered and blustery. I could jump for joy, I really could, he looks like such an idiot, but instead I choose to concentrate on my intimidating tactics. Clint wouldn’t jump for joy.
“Well, my oh my, you sure gave me a scare.”
He pretends not to see my .45, reflecting around the room, whirling slowly in little bright circles that can only spell his doom. He nervous smiles but I don’t smile back. I just stare at him and raise my chin a little.
“Is your mother home?”
“Nope.”
“Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“Nope.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“Nope.”
“Do you always carry a gun like that?”
“Yep.”
“That’s a very, um, nice gun.”
“What gun?”
“That gun. it’s . . . interesting.”
“My gun is interesting?”
“Well, I mean, it seems to be very well crafted.”
“it’s not a gun. it’s a .45.”
“Um.”
“Smith and Wesson.”
“Maybe I could give you my card and you could tell her I dropped by . . .”
“Card?”
“Yes. Um. Here.”
He smiles and takes his card out. He reaches his arm towards me and dangles it out for me to grab. I don’t move.
“Who are you, Mister?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me. My name’s Lux. Lux Feld. I’m in investments.”
“Investments?”
“You know, land, property, stuff like that.”
He laughs light and shrugs, making nice. I nod and laugh light back, shuffling my feet against the linoleum floor and slapping my thigh like I’m the inbred retard he takes me for.
He stops laughing and puts his card back in his jacket.
“You always break into people’s houses at . . . what time is it?”
“Eight o’clock.”
“At 8 o’clock in the morning?”
“Well, actually, the door was open, er, there was no door, I mean a screen door but . . . you know, well, I’m sorry, I didn’t see a buzzer so I just thought I’d—”
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you think I’m pretty? Like if you saw me passing by would you want to kiss me or something?”
“Um. I don’t really think that’s—”
“Luli, what the hell are you doing?”
Tammy comes barreling down the staircase, pushing me aside, and I can tell she’s about to do something worse but then she sees Mr. Feld and it’s like she turns from a moth to a butterfly in two seconds flat. She straightens up and tightens her robe around her, fluffing her hair up and smiling pretty.
“Why, Mr. Feld. Whatever in the world are you doing here at this hour of the day, of the morning, I mean? It must be seven-thirty, seven even.”
“it’s actually eight, Mrs. Cutter.”
He looks at her kind of funny when he says her name, like there’s a little joke here they got between them. They’re both smiling now. Tammy starts looking a little red like she’s at the sock-hop. And I have seen this blushing before. It means my dad is on the outs again.
I’m surprised this mister is even talking to her looking like that, sunk-eyed and shabby in her frayed blue robe and last night’s makeup. She keeps adjusting and readjusting herself, like somewhere in the position of her belt lies true happiness.
“I mean, I wouldn’t even have woke up if it wasn’t for Luli and her loud laughing.”
She looks at me for that one. I smile back at her like I’m just as happy as she is and we’re all just one big happy family. She sees my .45 and grabs it out of my hand.
“Oh, Luli, you are just such a little card with that gun.”
She laughs, bashful, swatting her hand at Mr. Feld, covering.
“She don’t mean nothing. She just likes to play.”
“it’s not a gun. it’s a .45.” I repeat it, get it straight.
“Well, that’s nice, dear.”
Tammy smiles and the peeled worm takes a gulp.
“Okay, then, Mr. Feld, if you’ll just let me get dressed, I’ll be right back down.”
She turns my way and smiles like a TV commercial.
“Luli, you better start getting ready for school now.”
All smiles. New and improved soap.
“School don’t start for two weeks.”
She grabs my arm and steers me firm towards my room. I look back at her and she stares right back like she’s daring me to make a move. Tammy’s got a mean backhand. I turn and start getting dressed, careful to stand next to the door so I can keep up. I hear her sigh and giggle, then a little laughing and talking. A guilty little whisper. A sentence, hushed.
Then the screen door slams and just like that they’re gone.
I walk back out to the kitchen and listen to the sound of a smooth kind of car driving off into the distance. Well, that’s that then. If my calculations are correct, he’s not new to her cause there’s already a secret between them. She must have found him at the Hy-Vee or the Kwik-Mart or the Piggly Wiggly. He must have driven his cart into her cart, blushed and feigned an apology, polite. She would have turned round, seen money and they’d be off to the races.
Money.
I open the fridge for something to eat, but there’s nothing but brown peaches and a half-finished jar of relish.
I
