Disequilibrium

Part 4: Senior Year - Scene 11

I keep driving until I'm in the next town over, and I don't stop even when the sun sets and I'm miles away from where I should be. The very thought of going back to that motel makes me want to shit my pants, so I drive around for a while thinking of what to do. How to fix things.

And then magically, as if God hasn't given up on me yet, I see a bar at the corner of some intersection, and an idea sparks in my mind.

I mean, I've only done it once before back when money was tight at home, and there's no telling how good I'll be at it now, but I still veer the car towards the bricked building like I belong there. I don't look so great, I know, but maybe with just the right amount of confidence and charm, I could get somewhere. Yeah, that's it. It's an art form, Dad said. If you don't do it right, it'll all go to shit.

Back then it didn't matter if I looked young and innocent—Dad said it worked better in their favour. Some fetish thing; hell if I know. But tonight...I don't know. There aren't many people in the parking lot. It's getting late. But it's either now or never.

Go.

I kill the engine right at the door, hovering over the rear view mirror like moving my hair left to right will do a damn thing. And I guess it does because suddenly I think what the hell am I so worried over? Why am I scared? I've done it once; I can do it again. After all, I know how they think, how they act, what they want. It got me closer to David, closer to Nichole, closer to him.

I can do this. Easy. No problem.

So I get out of the car, move my hair a little more, then walk into the bar like I'm not only eighteen without a piece of ID. I linger at the doorway for a bit, eyes travelling over the room like I'm looking for someone important. There are more women out than men tonight, which is all right since Dad only taught me how to work with the girls. They're easier, anyway, especially when they're drunk.

They're mostly in groups of threes or fours, or the occasional pair out for no goddamn reason. They all keep to themselves while having a blast, and I start thinking shit, it's not going to happen, it's not going to work until I see two women, middle aged, and piss drunk while sitting at the corner of the bar.

I weave my way over to them, pushing past people and still keeping my eyes flittering around like I've lost someone. Once I'm a bit near them, I stand around for a while, still looking, then scratch my head and sigh.

It's deep enough to catch the attention of one. She glances over with a sly eye and giggles. They're not that pretty, I figure, since they're a little pushed away from everyone else, and it seems like they've been drinking for quite a while and nobody approached them yet. They wear skimpy dresses in an attempt to make them look younger but it only highlights the loose skin on their necks, blonde hair cut in short bobs to frame a decaying face.

I sigh again and move a bit closer, which makes the other notice me now. She also giggles. They whisper.

Then one of them, the older of the two, turns to me and says, "Rough night?"

I pretend I don't hear her, which makes her lean in and say it again. She smells like fucking shit. "Having a rough night?"

"What? Me? Oh, yeah. My buddy called me here to drive him back home, but it looks like he already left."

She's smiling too hard, stained teeth looking close to gold in the dim lighting. "Aw, that sucks! Do you want a drink?" She blinks for a moment, staring, and then says, "How old are you, anyway?"