The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)

The Businessman

Previously: "Doing It at the Donna" 

You're a limp and ragged thing, and you don't want to open your eyes, even after someone starts kissing you on the nose. "You're snoring," the someone says.

"Hnh?"

A giggle. "You were snoring. It was very cute."

'M not cute, you think. Still more muzzily: 'M not an airplane, either.

The someone grips your thigh and shakes it. "Come on, I'm hungry."

"Mm. I'll feed you. I can feed you." Your mouth feels sticky. "Just let me get it up again."

"Not like that. Please, Gary?" A nose rubs at your throat. "Food? Don't you want to get some of your money back from the motel?"

With a groan you pry open your eyes. Yumi smiles into your face.

You feel like you've run a marathon. You groan and roll over and sit up on the bed. You are completely naked. But Yumi, you find when you glance back at her, is in her bra and panties, with her unbuttoned blouse around her shoulders.

You grunt at her, then turn around, presenting her with your cock. She glances at it and looks away. "You can put that away now," she says.

You slide a knee onto the bed. "Oh, I know where I can put it away."

"No, Gary, come on," she says. "We did that already. I have to get home in a little while, and I want something to eat first so I can tell my mom that's what I was doing. Besides," she adds as you lean forward to loom over her. "I think I need to recuperate."

"Rrmm," you growl. "If you'd help—"

But though there is yet life below, it might need a block and tackle to get it up. Yumi gives you a quick peck on the lips, then scrambles off the bed. "I'll be in the bathroom freshening up," she says. "If you want to nap a little more, you can do that 'til I'm done. Because you might want to, uh—" She gives you another quick glance up and down. "Clean up a little before you get dressed."

She strides into the bathroom and shuts the door behind.

You fall onto the bed and curl up while the water runs. So this is what it's like, you think. Hot juices and hot blood and really hot action, then cold and stiff like old clay. I want a bath.

You zone out, staring at the wall, for a little while, then zone out some more while trying to read your phone. When Yumi comes out you stumble into the bathroom where you revive yourself in the shower with a cold blast of water to your crotch, a quick scrub with a washcloth, and another wake-me-up spray to your face. Feeling no cleaner, only a little less crusty, you pad out to find Yumi fully dressed and waiting by the door. You jam yourself inside your clothes, scoop up the box of condoms, and lead her back out to your Jeep.

You should have been quicker in the bathroom, because though you were only there for a little over two hours, the ex-cop charges you for three.

* * * * *

You drive half a block down the street, to the Sunshine Diner, where a dumpy black hostess with braids down her back puts you in a back booth. After she goes, Yumi moves around to your side of the table and pushes in next to you. When the hostess returns with coffee, you order eggs and pancakes; Yumi orders a fruit bowl and a slice of ham.

She's got her forehead in your neck and is looking down at the cell phone she's propped in your lap when a short blonde kid saunters by. He does a double-take at you, nods his head, and passes into the kitchen. You suck on a tooth and wait. A few minutes later, the kid comes back out again and throws himself into the booth across from you. "Jesus, I'm beat," Sean Wilcox says as he turns sideways to put an elbow on the table.

You nod as Yumi raises her head. "You work here, man?" you ask him.

"I own it," he retorts. "Well, my family does. I help manage. Jesus." He stretches an arm. "It's my long day, been here since school let out, not supposed to get off until nine." He grunts again. "Got my homework in the back office, you know. But I can't seem to get to it."

"Did you know that Kim Walsh's family owns the Donna down the street?" Yumi says. You can hear the acidic grin in her voice.

Sean nods. "Sure, her dad, John does. Her dad and my dad are old friends." He gives you and Yumi a quick, dead-eyed look as Yumi pulls herself closer to you, but if he makes any inferences, he doesn't show it.

Instead, he says, "I hear you're in the food service business too."

The fuck? "I'm a busboy out at the country club," you correct him.

Sean blinks. "I thought someone told me you waited tables someplace. Huh. Guess I heard wrong. But the country club? Whew, that must be pretty nice. Good tips?"

"No tips, and it sucks." The waitress appears with your food, and you lean back to take your arm from around Yumi. "Buncha mean, rich, uh—" You eyeball the waitress. "Bastards out there."

"Well, that sucks." Sean points at your food and tells the waitress, "Bring me the ticket."

"You don't have to do that," you say.

"Okay, give him the ticket," Sean tells the waitress, and flashes you a quick, mirthless smile. "How much they pay you out there?"

"Minimum wage."

"Psh! You serious? And at the fucking country club, too. I guess what they say is true, you don't get rich by paying the help." He cranes his neck to look toward the front door. "I gotta go do a few math problems," he says as he slides back onto his feet again. "But come find me in the office before you go, I might have a job offer for you." He saunters back toward the kitchen.

"Who was that?" Yumi says. Her tone is coldly neutral.

"Sean Wilcox. Don't you know him from school?"

"No. How do you know him?"

"From school. I know him from around. We were in middle school together."

"He said he had a job offer for you."

"Maybe he wants to give me a job out here."

Yumi twists around to give you a skeptical scowl.

"You already have a job," she says. "You told him."

"Maybe he wants me to quit that one and come out here."

She goes back to eating from her fruit cup. You pour syrup all over you pancakes and start wolfing down bites.

"You wouldn't quit out at the country club, would you?" Yumi says.

"Why not? It's a sucky job."

"But it's the country club!"

"Yeah, it's a sucky job at the country club."

"But it's the country club," she insists. "The people out there— I mean, look at the kind of people who come here!"

She glances around. All you can see are old people in VFW hats and a six-top where a fat man and two fat women are fighting with three chubby little kids.

"Yeah," you drawl. "They get the kind of people out here who check into the Donna."

Yumi whirls to glare at you. Then she goes back to eating. She says nothing further, and neither do you, until you're done.

She doesn't want to let you out of the booth when you say you need to go up to pay, and you more or less have to shove her out by reminding her that, no, Sean took back his offer to comp you. When you can't find your waitress, you look in the kitchen, where you ask the cooks where Sean is. They tell you he stepped out back for a smoke.

He's leaning against the wall when you emerge, blinking into the setting sun, with a cigarette between his fingers. A few feet down from him, a Mexican in a white apron is also smoking. They both look over at you, but only Sean nods. He puts the cigarette in his mouth and digs the pack out of his pocket, extending it to you.

"I came to settle the ticket," you tell him as you pluck out a cigarette.

"We'll deduct it from what I owe you," he says.

"What do you owe me?"

He doesn't answer, but turns to look at the Mexican, who takes one last hit off his cigarette before dropping and crushing it under his toe. He blows out a thick stream of white smoke as he goes back inside.

"I'm going to a party this weekend," Sean says as he hands you a lighter. "I'm bringing refreshments."

"Oh, uh-huh? How much?"

He thinks a moment, then holds up four fingers. Then he adds his thumb. "Ounces?" you ask.

"No!" His eyes pop. "Tokes."

"Hnh. Yeah, I was thinkin' that must be one hell of a party you're supplying. Okay, so, forty less what I owe you for supper."

"Supper's on me."

"Okay, forty. You want 'em now or later?"

"Whenever."

You nod. Then you tell him, "I can let you have eight for sixty, if you pay me now."

Sean starts. "You got 'em here?"

"Not on me, but I can get 'em for you in an hour."

"Oh. That's cool. Okay, deal."

You settle back to finish your cigarette, as does he. Neither of you speaks, until Sean casually says, "I heard you trashed a couple of bozos out at the portables today."

You flick away some ash. "Yeah, I had to teach a couple of motherfuckers to watch their language."

"Cool." He nods.

But you can't help noticing that he doesn't invite you out to that party he's supplying.

* * * * *

Yumi is buttoned up against your advances when you return, and she only grunts when you tell her that Sean just paid for your afternoon at the Donna. Pleading a headache, she asks you to take her home. You feel a headache of your own, and a bad mood to go with it.

So you almost toss the phone away without looking when a text comes in from Maria Vasquez. When you do read it, you wish you hadn't.

Chelsea Cooper broke up with Gordon Black this afternoon, she informs you.

Next: "The Kiss-Off" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 4)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)"