“WHAT IN THE world?” one lady says. Her eyes bounce from me to the flyer I try to hand her. She tells the man she’s with to let me know that what I’m doing ain’t safe.
He holding her hand when he say, “Stay out of people’s business, Gail. She know what she gotta do.”
The line outside the club is stupid long like it always is. I’m near the middle. Three dudes standing one behind the other smile at me. One of ’em follows my legs with his eyes till he staring at my face. His friend’s elbow hits him in the ribs. “She a kid, man. Quit it.”
“I’m just looking.”
“To get us locked up?” They move with the line.
Bet there’s two hundred people still trying to get in. Only ten so far took my flyers. Six more stopped on their way past to ask for one. “I’m having a party,” I told them. “In that motel. Next Saturday after the club lets out.” They all ask the same thing. Which floor? I didn’t say. I ain’t no fool. The night of the party I’ll leave the back door open. Tell people to go up to the second floor. Nobody need to know where the party is till then. I’ll buy food, pick up shot glasses and soda at the one-dollar store, pay someone to buy wine and liquor—the cheap kind. Bet I’ll make five hundred for the night.
“Who touched me?” I spin around. “Bet I cut you if you do it again.” For the first time in a while, I think about WK.
“If you didn’t want to be touched, why are you wearing those?” It’s the woman with the man who told her to leave me alone. She step out of line and point at my shorts. They red and match my lips. I sewed on the rhinestone decal. Priceless it say when you see me from behind.
I look at her. She Miss Saunders’s age. Should be at home, anyhow, not out here. “Okay, boomer,” I say, shaking my butt on my way by. “You just jealous, is all.”
He take her by the hand. Gets out the line and walks up front. The bouncer lets ’em jump the line and go inside. Maybe they knew him. Paid him off.
I wave flyers at two boys walking up the sidewalk. They my age. They take and read ’em. I get so close to one, I smell toothpaste on his breath. “You coming? Come,” I say. Then I give them extras for their friends. Guess I shoulda hit up the the basketball courts and sneaker stores. But I’m more used to grown-ups being around me when it’s party time.
“No soliciting.” It’s the bouncer. He look down at the ground where people dropped my flyers. “Pick those up.” He a mountain, tall and wide, hard to look around.
“I ain’t drop ’em.” I hand the next person in line a flyer, then the next.
He take me by the arm, pulling me into the street. His fat fingers go in his pocket and a badge comes out. He not a real police officer, just a pretend one, a guard. I do like he say anyhow, especially after he talk about calling the police.
My shoes is in my hand when I sit down in front the post office, smoking my last cigarette. “Plan B—you need one.”
I try to think of other ways to make money—some legal, some not. Selling weed from my room could bring the cops to my door, get me kicked out the Starfleet, my things piled outside the motel on the street. Homeless don’t look good on nobody. So, I stand up, drop my flyers in the mailbox. Put my high heels back on. Cross the street and walk into the lobby of The Fount Hotel. There’s a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a water fountain shooting blue water up high in front the building and another one inside, pictures of angels painted on the ceiling, real plants everywhere. The Fount remind me of a grandma that used to be young and pretty. It needs painted now, wax striped off the floor, curtains that ain’t so thick and dark. But I like it. The people working in here dress like they got money, look important. I’m gonna be important one day.
I stand in the line for guests, ignore people staring. “I want to put in a application,” I say once it’s my turn. “I can work anytime day or night.”
The lady at the front desk smiles. “You have to be eighteen or older.” I think that’s a lie. But she nice, so I don’t get mad. I lower my voice. Tell her I’ll work under the table. That’s against the law, she say.
“I know. But—” I lean in close, try to explain how things is for me.
She reach underneath the counter. Grabs a brown bag and fills it up with water, a small bottle, a snack bar, an apple, and a bag of chips. She folds the bag over, winks, and sits it on the counter. “Next,” she say to the man in line behind me.
On my way out, I make myself a promise. “I’ma live in a place like this one day.”
If I was paying attention, I woulda seen him. Not bumped into him. Maybe he wanted it that way, ’cause he don’t move after I back up and say, “Sorry.” I keep my eyes on the mailbox across the street. You look some men in the eyes, and they think that mean yes to whatever question they got rolling around in their head. I look down, keep walking. I already left Cricket alone too long anyway.
“Oh, it’s like that?” He follows me to the curb.
If I talk to him, he’ll think I’m interested. Tonight, I don’t want him to think nothing about me—I ain’t in the mood.
We cross the street at the same time. He think he cool wearing shades when it’s dark out, a black trench coat even though it’s warm, leather gloves like he expecting snow. “Where’s your daddy?” he ask.
I look at him. “You wanna be my daddy?” I almost say. But that would be an invitation. A way in for him, when I got the door locked and don’t plan to open it—not tonight anyhow. But when he start talking again, I turn and look him over. I got to, ’cause I know him—his voice from somewhere. The motel, maybe? The one-dollar store? I think a minute about where else I been. He look up the street at men in cars and girls near cars wearing shorts shorter than mine. My eyes stay on him. “Hey? You’re him.”
He lifts his shades. Smiles and nods.
“Your mustache. You shaved it. That’s how come I ain’t recognize you.” I step up to him with my hand up to my eyes like a visor. “Where’s April? I got something for her.”
He drove her to Florida. He tells me the name of the highway they took and everything.
“For real? Seriously? You lying.” He take out his wallet, shows me a picture of the ship she on. “She dancing? She didn’t want that kind of job no more.”
He found her something else, he say. Something better. “Good work. Good wages.” He points to his head. “Using her brains too.”
I think on it some. “Well, I hope she like it.”
I let down my guard when I spoke to him. He know that. Does something about it when he hold on to my wrist tight as a handcuff. A car at the end of the block start up the street slow, close to the curb, then stops in front of us. It’s black with black windows, probably got black seats inside. “That your ride?” I smile. Look up at him. “Nice.” I correct my posture. “You got a chauffeur? You seem the type. I want one.” I ask about the car at the bus station. He got more than one, he say, a van too. “You will one day too. I can tell.”
He facing the hotel when he tell me about April’s uniform and job. It’s white like they wear on TV ships, he say. She supervises people already and plans activities for kids. I ask for her address. He’ll get it to me another time. I ain’t say I wanted to see him again.
“Hungry?”
I look at the bag in my hand. “What?”
“Are you hungry? There’s a place that’s open all night. Close by. I can take you home afterward.”
I look at his car. Imagine myself inside. “Ahhh, nope. I’m expected home.”
He take a toothpick out, sticks it between his lips. “… Expected home. Where is home?”
My sister ain’t raise no fool. “Wherever I say it is.” I start walking away, jiggling on purpose. When I stop, I got that bag tight in my hand. “I need a job, Anthony. You know anybody hiring?”
“How much do you need?” He slide his hand in his jacket pocket.
“I clean, and I don’t mind hard work.” It’s not easy, but I turn away from the money and look across the street back at the hotel. “They hiring? You stay there, right? They wouldn’t let me put in a application.”
He’ll ask the manager if he’s got any work for me, he says. “If I had your number—”
“I got your card.” I look at The Fount. “It always that busy?” If he answers, I don’t hear. I’m watching more cars pull into their driveway. Counting the floors, I try to guess how many rooms a maid would clean a day, how much she’d make. Plenty, I bet. Ignoring him, I take myself home.