“C’mon!” Art yelled. “Play ball! Fourth and goal! It’s a gut check.”
Barbie ran backward a few steps, her breasts bouncing in the purple jumpsuit, her right arm holding the football aloft. She heaved the football through the air with a grunt. It twisted end over end. Art sighed dramatically.
Iris ran forward, caught it, and ran toward the goal post behind Art. He lunged for her, catching her around the waist. She fell backward and Art fell on top of her with his hands around her hips and his face in her crotch. The ball came out of her hands and he lunged for it.
“Fumble!” he yelled. “My ball.”
“My ass.” Iris got up and brushed herself off. “This is supposed to be touch football, Tarzan.”
Art smiled broadly, his white teeth and the whites of his eyes shining in the moonlight. “Sorry. I got carried away.”
Iris rubbed her hip. “I’m gonna have a hell of a bruise tomorrow.”
“It was just a little tackle. Stop being such a baby.”
“Screw you. You’re drunk.”
Art lunged for her, catching her around the calves, knocking her backward again. “I’m drunk? Look who’s talking.” He tickled her ribs.
Iris writhed on the ground. “Stop it. Art, stop it!” she shrieked. “Barbie, help!”
Barbie leaped onto Art’s shoulders from behind and tried to pull him off, then started tickling his ribs. The three of them rolled over and under each other on the grass of the dark athletic field. They didn’t see the security guard until he was standing over them.
“Hey!” He danced around them, not knowing who to grab. “Knock it off. School’s closed. You’re trespassing.”
Art rolled over and sat back on his hands. “Hey, Mike! What up? It’s Artie.”
Mike shone his flashlight on Art, who put his hand up to shield the beam.
“Art Silva.” Mike clicked off the flashlight and extended his hand to help Art up. “What’re you doing back on the home turf?”
Art shook Mike’s hand. “Just fooling around, showing my friends the old neighborhood. This is Iris and this is Barbie.”
Mike held his hand out toward Barbie to help her up. She took it. Art did the same for Iris. She ignored him and unsteadily got to her feet by herself.
“We played a lot of games here, you and me.” Mike looked around the dark field. “A lot of memories.”
“We’ll take off,” Art said. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“Go ahead and stay. No problem. Just take your empties with you.” He again shook Art’s hand. “Nice to meet you, ladies.” He walked across the field, then gave a look back over his shoulder. Art threw him a pass, long and straight. Mike caught the ball and threw it back, then left the field.
Art walked to the visiting team’s bleachers where a bottle of tequila, a round container of salt, and a stack of plastic cups stood. One of the cups held lime wedges. He gathered everything in his arms and ran up the benches, the wooden planks bending under his weight, until he was at the top. He put the things down and stood facing the chain-link fence that surrounded the school’s perimeter, his fingers laced in the fence’s basket weave.
Iris climbed up beside him. She poured tequila into a cup, put salt on the back of her hand, licked the salt, downed the tequila in one gulp, then bit into a lime wedge.
Art watched. “For someone who doesn’t do, shooters, you sure been friendly with Jose Cuervo tonight.”
“So what?” She slurred the s. She leaned her belly against the fence.
Art shrugged. “So nothing.”
Barbie finally reached them, huffing and puffing and patting the perspiration from her face with the back of her hand. “Whatcha’ll lookin’ at?”
“The city.” Iris said.
The school was built on top of a hill at the city’s eastern edge. It was not the classic L.A.-at-night view like that from the Griffith Observatory. From here there was no luxury, no hint of an ocean. There were simply the lights of an overgrown and unrestrained city, cast carelessly across the hills and valleys as far as millions of dreams could throw them.
Barbie leaned against the fence next to Iris. She carefully stuck her fingers through the wires, trying not to scratch her manicure.
“I’m psyched!” Art shouted. “We’re gonna open a club.” He rattled the fence with both hands.
“Deal’s not done yet, Arturo,” Barbie said.
“But the meeting went well, didn’t you think? My uncle was impressed with you.” Art reached his hands above his head, grabbed the fence, and put his face close to it. “This city is mine.”
“You can have it.” Iris turned around, sat on the bleachers, and leaned against the fence. She poured tequila into three cups, handed one to Art and began to hand one to Barbie. It slipped from her hand and tumbled between the bleachers to the ground. “Oops.”
“That’s okay, darlin’. I’ve had enough.”
“Iris hasn’t had enough,” Art said. “She’s getting flat-lined.”
“How about some wine?” Iris asked. “There’s wine left.”
“We drank it,” Art said.
“You two go ahead and enjoy yourselves,” Barbie said. “I’ll drive y’all home.”
“Can you drive a stick?” Art asked.
“Can I drive a stick?” Barbie repeated. “Of course I can.”
Art reached into his back pocket, took out his wallet, unfolded it, and dug his finger around inside, looking for something. He pulled out a marijuana joint and held it up, displaying it in front of them. “Since we’re celebrating, how about a special treat?”
“I’m not celebrating.” Iris leaned forward and almost lost her balance. Barbie grabbed her, steadying her. “But I’ll have a taste. I haven’t smoked pot since I was in college. I think I first did it with John. Figures. Future cop.”
Art lit the joint, took a hit, and passed it to Iris. She took a hit and immediately started choking. Art took it from her fingers. She grabbed her chest with both hands. “Burns.”
Art offered it to Barbie. She shook her head. He took a hit and passed it back to Iris. She took another hit and didn’t cough as much.
They traded the joint back and forth in silence.
Art spoke. “What should I call it?”
“Call what?” Iris asked.
“My club.”
“Stop talking about that damn club.”
“What else is there interesting to talk about?” Art again leaned against the fence.
Iris looked at Barbie, and something on Barbie’s face caught her attention. Iris slowly reached her hand up and touched a small mole. “Barbie’s family.”
“Why do you want to hear about that?” Barbie asked.
Iris circled her finger around the mole. “Because you told me, ‘At least you have happy family memories.’ Don’t you have any? Not one?”
“You don’t want to hear about that. Honey, stop playin’ with my face. You’re gonna rub it raw.”
“I want to hear about it. Don’t you, Art?” Iris heavily dropped her hand onto her lap.
“Sure. Let’s hear it.”
Barbie crossed her arms over her chest and held herself. “Like I told you before, my three older brothers and I grew up half naked and half starved down in Mississippi. Daddy worked all day on the railroad which was fine with me, ‘cause when he got home, he’d get drunk and beat on us. Momma ran off when I was twelve. That was Daddy’s story, anyway. I always suspected he got carried away one day and killed her. Wasn’t like Momma to leave us like that. My youngest brother and I thought he planted her out in the yard. There was this spot out back where the wildflowers always grew real nice. After she was gone, I had to drop out of school. I lived in the dirt. Thought I’d die there.”
“How awful.” Iris was staring at the mole on Barbie’s face again. She put her finger up to touch it, but touched a spot to the left. “Poor Barbie.”
“That’s only the half of it. My two older brothers used to have their way with me and my younger brother.”
“No way!” Art leapt up with outrage. He straddled two benches.
“Yes, they did.” Barbie chewed her lower lip.
Iris stared up at Art. He seemed to be ten feet tall. She leaned her head against Barbie’s shoulder as she watched him. “What about Daddy?”
“He didn’t get in on the action, if that’s what you mean. I don’t know if he knew. My brother and I were afraid to tell him. Figured he’d just beat us. You know, blame us.”
“Whatcha do?” Iris asked.
“When I was fifteen, I looked twenty-one. I left home and went to Atlanta. The only work I could get was as a stripper. It was good money. But I never prostituted myself. Some of those girls did, but unh-uh, not me. Stripped for a few years then got a more legitimate job as a waitress for Hal Stringfellow. You know the rest.”
Art grabbed the bottle of tequila and splashed some into three cups. He handed a cup to Barbie and one to Iris. “Hal deserves a toast.” He held his cup out. Barbie and Iris held theirs out to meet it. “To Hal.”
“To Hal.” Iris chimed.
“May his li’l ol’ redneck heart rest in peace.” Barbie took a sip of the tequila, then set the cup next to her on the bench. She plucked at the neckline of her jumpsuit, straightening the collar, which had gone awry during the football game.
“Have you ever gone back home?” Iris asked.
“Nope.” Barbie briskly shook her head. “Never did. Used to think I’d go back, flashin’ diamonds and furs. Then I thought, what for? They’d just try to borrow money from me. Or laugh. I keep up with my youngest brother. He lives in Texas. Runs a janitorial supply business. Got a coupla little kids, wife. Turned out good.”
“Hell of a story,” Iris said.
“It’s no story,” Barbie said indignantly. “It’s the truth.”
Iris looked at her. “I didn’t mean you made it up, I just meant it’s a hell of a thing, you know? To have happened.”
Art was again standing with one foot on the bench above and one on the bench below. “I’ve got the munchies. We got any food left?”
“No,” Iris said. “I’m starving, too.” She stood and started walking down the bleachers, stepping from bench to bench.
“There’s a little store down the hill,” Art said. “I’ll make a food run.”
“You ain’t fit to drive, Arturo,” Barbie said.
“I’ll walk. What’s your pleasure?
Barbie patted her belly. “Nothing for me. I’ve already ruined my diet for the weekend.”
Iris jumped off the last bleacher onto the athletic field. She ran across it with her arms spread. “Oreos!” she shouted as she ran. “And Doritos!” She turned and ran back. “Barbecued Doritos.” She kicked her leg and her shoe flew off, landing somewhere in the dark. She kicked off her other shoe. She pirouetted on the grass until she got dizzy and collapsed. Lying on the grass on her back, she blinked as she waited for the world to right itself. She looked at the sky, and muttered, “John. Asshole.”
“I’ll see you later.” Art started walking. Halfway across the field, he disappeared into the darkness.
Iris suddenly got up and yelled at the sky with her arms spread. “Fucking men. Fucking John Somers. Asshole!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. “Asshole!” A dog somewhere started to bark. Iris started to sob. She stood on the dark field and held her head in her hands.
Barbie walked over and put her arms around her. “I know, honey. I know.”
“How could he leave me?” Iris sobbed.
“C’mon, sit down.” She sat on the grass and Iris lumbered next to her.
“How could he leave me for that fucking earth mother?” Iris leaned on Barbie’s shoulder and cried.
Barbie put her arms around her and rocked her back and forth. “There, there. It’s okay. Barbeh’s here.”
“My life’s going down the tubes. Nothing’s gone right. It started when Alley was murdered. I can still see him lying in the street. I see…” Iris’s voice caught in her throat. She sobbed onto Barbie’s shoulder. Her shoulders shook. She inhaled and exhaled trembling breaths.
Barbie rocked her back and forth.
Iris clumsily drew her fingers along the tracks her tears made in Barbie’s silk jumpsuit. “I’m wrecking your clothes. All your pretty purple clothes.”
“That’s okay, honey. Just get it all out.”
Iris bolted up. “Man, I’m really stoned. Wow. That was strong stuff.” All at once, she stopped crying. She stared at Barbie.
“Whatcha looking at, honey?”
“I don’t have any purple clothes.” She shook her head sadly.
“I’ll buy you something purple.”
Iris looked intently into Barbie’s eyes. “Thank you. Thank you, Barbie. You’re such a good friend.” She raised her hand to caress Barbie’s cheek.
Barbie leaned into Iris’s touch. “Sweet girl.” She pressed her hand against Iris’s, which was against her face.
Iris pulled her hand away and let it drop to the ground. “No I’m not. John wouldn’t have left me if I was.”
“His loss, sugar.”
Iris smiled. She raised her pointed index finger. “I like your attitude.” She closed her eyes and lay back onto the grass, letting out a long sigh.
Barbie slowly leaned closer and closer until her lips were almost touching Iris’s.
Iris’s breathing deepened as she dropped off to sleep.
Barbie hovered above Iris, feeling the other woman’s breath against her skin. She closed the distance and opened her lips around Iris’s.
Iris opened her eyes.
Barbie moved her head back and looked at Iris without saying anything.
Iris wrinkled her brow. “What are you doing?”
“Just bein’ here for you, darlin’.”
“Why are you so close?”
“I’m right where I was.”
Iris touched her lips. “Did you kiss me?”
“Kiss you?”
Iris unsteadily got to her feet.
Barbie leaned back on her hands. “You find the idea offensive?”
“This is weird.” Iris walked several paces rubbing her head, tangling her hair in her hands. “You did, didn’t you?”
“Honey, I’m just sittin’ here, listenin’ to you talk. I don’t know what you’re goin’ off about now.”
“Talk? About what?”
“About John.”
“John? What was I saying about John?”
“About how he’s always buggin’ you about whether you have that embezzled money.”
Iris rubbed her forehead, trying to remember. “Why would I say that?”
Barbie shrugged. “I don’t know, sugar.”
“Hell, he ought to know.”
“He knows where you buried it.”
“I didn’t say that. Why would I say that?”
“I guess I didn’t hear you right. What did you say?”
Iris combed her hair with her fingers. She stopped, dropped her hands, and faced Barbie. “Just why are you so interested?”
“Honey, I’m not interested. You were the one who asked me what you were talking about.”
Iris leaned her head back and regarded Barbie skeptically, her head wobbling on her neck. “Just why are you so interested?” she repeated.
“I told you.” Barbie got up from the ground. “You were talkin’ about it. Don’t you believe me? You just said I was your good friend.”
“But it’s not something I talk about.”
“You don’t trust me. Must be lonely being such a distrustful person.”
“I’m not distrustful.”
“Maybe that’s one reason John went back to his ex-wife.”
“What?”
“There’s gotta be some reason. I’m not being mean, honey. I’m just tryin’ to help you.”
Iris frowned. “It wasn’t my fault, was it?” She shook her head. “No. It was him. He’s the asshole.” She jabbed her pointed index fingers toward the city skyline. “Asshole!”
She started walking toward the bleachers. She tripped over an uneven spot in the grass and stumbled for another three steps before she managed to stop her forward motion. She looked back accusingly at the lump in the grass, then looked down at her bare feet. She wiggled her toes in the cool grass. A slow smile crossed her face.
“This grass feels great. I can’t remember the last time I stood barefoot in grass.” She walked toward the bleachers. “Here’s the wine. It fell between the benches.” She fished out the bottle, started to pull out the cork, and set the bottle on a bench. “I’ve had enough.”
“Yes, you have.” Barbie retrieved Iris’s shoes and handed them to her.
“Thank you.” Iris sat on a bench and clumsily put a shoe on one foot, then the other. She looked intently at Barbie, putting put her hand to her forehead. “What were we talking about? We were talking about something.”
“The money. You were telling me where the money is.”
A look of recognition washed over Iris’s face. “Oh, the money. Right. Alley.” She chuckled. “He was carrying almost half a million dollars around in his briefcase.” She held her ribs and laughed and looked at Barbie to share the joke.
Barbie chuckled.
Iris threw her head back, laughing. She lay back against the bench behind her, gasping for breath. “In his briefcase. That Alley. I’m tellin’ ya. Oh, boy.” She wiped tears from her eyes, then stared across the field. “I’m gonna burn it. It’s like a curse.” She lowered her eyes at Barbie. “If I had it, that is. I’d get it out and burn it.”
“It’s in a safe, sugar?” Barbie asked.
Iris pushed up from the bench behind her until she was sitting straight. “If I had it, I’d have it locked up, wouldn’t I? And not in my house. So don’t even think about that. In a safe-deposit box. That’s where it would be, if I had it. Safe from nosy, prying people.” She glared at Barbie.
“You’re calling me nosy? That’s not a nice thing to say, especially after everything I’ve done for you.”
“Done for me?”
Art yelled at them from across the field. “I have returned.” He was carrying a brown paper grocery bag. “What have you two been up to?”
“Just girl talk,” Barbie said.
“I’m not gonna touch that.” He tore a piece of beef jerky between his teeth.
Iris looked expectantly at the bag.
Art reached into it and handed her a bag of Oreos and an open half-gallon of milk.
“Yes!” Iris snatched them from Art, tore open the Oreo package, took out a cookie, twisted the two halves apart, then scraped off the filling with her bottom teeth. She ate the chocolate halves. “Oh,” she moaned. “This tastes wonderful.” She twisted open another one and ate it. “This is so good.” She thirstily drank from the carton of milk.
She put down the carton, looked intently at Barbie, then across the darkened field. She looked back at Barbie. “What were we talking about?”