Jessie plucked at the front of her black T-shirt, emblazoned with a picture of Jim Morrison. She’d cut out the standard neckline and turned it into a deep V-neck. “The Doors are my latest obsession,” she said. “Three months ago, it was Neil Young.”
“You should’ve been out here a few years ago, when he played Coachella.”
“Don’t you mean OldChella?” Jessie teased.
“Ouch,” Nick said, pretending to flinch.
Mia hooked her arm around Jessie’s shoulders in affection and looked at Nick. “See, I told you she’d be cool,” she said, cocking a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
Jessie smiled at Nick, and then, wider, at her cousin. “I’m totally cool,” she nodded. The three of them laughed together.
It began like background music, a song playing in a restaurant or grocery store that you’re not even aware of, until you really listen and it’s one of your favorite songs, and your attention is pulled away from the chitchat at the table, with the checkout clerk, your focus snake-charmed into this one faint melody, these words you cannot help but mouth and even sing aloud. So it was with Nick. Jessie was first aware of her stomach, the way it tightened and churned before Nick was due to return from work, the way she caught herself freshening her lipstick in the bathroom mirror, for what? At first, it seemed Nick thought of her only as Mia did, just a punk kid, until his winks and glances behind her cousin’s back began to accumulate, and soon enough she couldn’t stop thinking about him. And somehow, Nick seemed aware of her new realization; his winks and looks accelerated until the air bristled when they passed each other in the short hallway and cramped U-shaped kitchen.
How did he know? Jessie decided that Nick must’ve heard it too, the hum, the background music that tugged at her attention; heard the way his name reverberated deep in her chest like a thick bass groove; saw how she bit her lower lip not only in witless seduction, but to keep from mouthing his name and singing it aloud.
Nick was one of two bar managers at the strip club over on Perez Road; strip clubs, at least, were something you couldn’t find in Palm Springs. It was one of the only topless clubs in the entire Coachella Valley, so Nick was gone a lot; his work shifts meant that sometimes he was home by early evening, and sometimes he didn’t come home until after two a.m. Sleeping on the pull-out couch, Jessie tried to always be awake when he came in, but most nights he crept in after she’d dozed off and she never heard a thing.
Jessie couldn’t figure out exactly what Mia did for a living—but did it matter? Her cousin was barely twenty-two, and even if it was shabby, she already rented her own place, lived alone with Nick, and drove a sweet (if slightly dented) baby Benz. She claimed she was studying to be a graphic artist and had helped design some of the event posters for the strip club.
“I’ve been taking computer classes over at COD,” Mia told Jessie, meaning the local campus of College of the Desert, a community college. All Jessie knew was that Mia spent a lot of time puttering on her Mac laptop, sometimes drawing animations and logos, but more often shopping online.
Despite Jessie’s visions of deep midnight and flowing lingerie, on the night she bumped into Nick in the dark hallway outside the bathroom it was barely after eleven and she was wearing only a musty old Mott the Hoople T-shirt over her frayed cotton underwear. As she turned off the light, stepped out of the door, and bumped into Nick, two weeks of daydreams clouded her vision as much as the sudden black. She stumbled and Nick caught her arm.
“Oh!” said Jessie.
“Whoa there, steady,” he said. “What are you doing up?”
“Um, I had to pee?” she answered, and her cheeks burned under the cover of darkness.
“Me too,” said Nick, and they laughed in relief. Her eyes were adjusting, and she could make out his features and the white flash of his teeth.
“Well …” she began.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll see you in the morning, then.” She stepped aside to return to the living room and her sofa bed, but Nick moved with her and blocked her path.
“Listen, Jessie, I’ve been thinking about you,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.” He edged closer, and she sensed the full weight of his body. In an instant the shadow of possibility had become flesh. A worthy reply stalled in her throat.
“I’ve thought about you a lot too, Nick.”
“Is that right? C’mere.” He took her elbow and drew her closer, back toward the bathroom door. He looked to be thinking hard and stroked his beard with his thumb and forefinger. Jessie wanted to put those fingers in her mouth. He reached behind her, pressing against the front of her shirt to flip the light switch back on. They blinked at each other in the yellow light.
Nick sighed. “What I’ve been thinking, see, is that I may need to kiss you.” And then the electric burr of his mustache was pricking her upper lip and there was only the soft suck of his mouth on hers and the sly tip of tongue that flicked and retreated too quickly. He pressed harder, pushing her spine into the doorframe.
She shut her eyes and tried to remember to breathe as Nick’s hand crept down the back of her shirt, then under the fabric, his calloused hand warm against her skin. A thick finger wormed under the elastic of her underwear and she pulled her mouth away.
“Hey,” she gasped.
“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” He ducked his head to smile into her eyes.
They were whispering. They breathed quietly, the house still except for the constant hum of the air conditioner.
“But Mia …”
Nick put a finger to her lips. “Don’t worry. Believe me, she sleeps like a rock.”
“Okay—but she’s your girlfriend, after all.”
“Yep, and you’re her kissin’ cousin. After all.” He grinned. “So, who’s really the bad guy now? You want me to kiss you some more or what?”
She closed her eyes and leaned in toward him.
The rest happened in a blur: they were on the floor, on the thin blue patterned rug in between the sofa bed and TV stand. Nick was everywhere, on her, in her, and then out again almost as quickly, hitching up his athletic shorts and running a hand through his hair.
“See you tomorrow, kid,” he whispered, then walked to the room at the end of the hallway and the bed he shared with Mia, humming a tune that Jessie couldn’t quite place.
The morning after that first time, Jessie overslept. When she opened her eyes sunshine filled the apartment, bouncing off the shiny surfaces of the cheap lacquered furniture. She listened to Mia running water in the kitchen and the grass-blower roar of the community gardeners. The night before felt like yet another daydream. She kicked off the sheets and stared up at the popcorn ceiling.
She sat up, pushed the hair from her eyes. “Where you going?” she asked when Mia walked into the room, nodding at the open map on Mia’s computer screen.
“A tattoo shop Nick’s mentioned, over on Ramon. His buddy works there.”
“You’re getting a tattoo?”
“How do you know I don’t already have some?” Mia smirked. “But no, this is for Nick; it’s his birthday surprise. He wants me to draw the Led Zeppelin logo so his friend can put it on his shoulder.”
“Zeppelin, huh?”
“He really likes that old stuff.”
“So do I,” Jessie said, lifting the front of her concert shirt.
“Well, I guess you two have something in common, don’t you, chica? But listen—Nick and I were talking this morning, and … ugh, this is embarrassing …” Mia grimaced and rolled her eyes.
“Wha—?” Jessie felt her heart thump hard in her chest.
“It’s just—well, we’re running a little short this month. I mean, we’ve been buying all of your food and stuff and—look, I noticed you have a debit card. So, you have your own bank account?”
Relief washed through Jessie. Money? It was only money? “Yeah, my mom’s got access to my account, but it’s mostly my dad, depositing his divorce-
guilt money. I can help out, for sure. What do you guys need?”
Mia hugged her, said, “Damn, cuz, I knew you’d be cool,” adding that if Jessie could lend them a hundred, maybe one-fifty, Nick would repay her soon in triple.
Yeah, he will, Jessie thought, trying not to smirk to herself.
She thought of their childhoods together during holidays and vacations. She pictured the framed photo in her mom’s hallway, of her and Mia on a family hike up in Cathedral Canyon, right above her cousin’s neighborhood. She and Mia were standing beside each other on big rocks, both smiling and wearing neon sunglasses. In the background, the valley sprawled, dusty brown against the cobalt-blue sky, like their whole lives, wide open and waiting. The photo felt like a world ago, but the trail, and the same rock formations the town was named for, were all still there, across Highway 111 and a few miles away.
She thought about how Mia had always wielded the power of her years over her with pinches and mild slugs, and how, on the few occasions when Jessie tried to fight back with a half-hearted punch of her own, Mia retaliated by landing a sly hard one on her arm or thigh, leaving a bruise that lingered after she’d returned home. Mia had always been mean.
So what would she do if she found out now, and what kind of mark would it leave? Jessie tried not to think about it. When she felt guilt swarming her head like angry wasps, she thought of her friend Samantha, how blithely Samantha had once said that if a chick couldn’t hang on to her man, that was hardly her problem, was it?
The days passed in a haze of pool chlorine, vertical blinds snapped tight against the sun, and an endless Spotify mix of classic rock in her ear buds. She scrolled through Instagram, checking out images of the strip club. The dancers were sexy and lithe and awfully flexible. Jessie wondered what Nick saw in her, surrounded by all those bodies every night. She wondered what he even saw in Mia, compared to those strippers.
Even so, on those nights when he came home early, Nick always managed to sneak her some signal: a wink, a private smirk. Also, there was that song he always hummed: it was an old Doors song, he told her. She didn’t recognize the slow, snaky blues melody, or the one line he occasionally sang out in a mocking drawl: A cold girl’ll kill you / In a darkened room. She searched for it online: “Cars Hiss by My Window.” She loved it, loved especially how it sounded exactly like three o’clock in the morning.
When Nick was home, the hours flew by. Mia never cooked dinner; instead they’d all climb in her car, and drive for fast food, often ending up at the Taco Bell on the corner of Highway 111 and Cathedral Canyon. “Didn’t this used to be a Jack in the Box?” Jessie asked once.
“Good memory,” Nick said, munching his chalupa.
“This is the same road that goes up into my parents’ neighborhood,” Mia said. “You probably remember when we used to stop in here for chocolate shakes.” So far on this trip, Jessie had only seen her aunt and uncle once, when they’d taken her and Mia out to dinner at Nicolino’s, the hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant that was a family favorite. It was weird, to think they could all get in the car and be at their front door in a few minutes. Mia’s life felt so entirely different and separate from her parents.
After eating, they usually cruised around town, avoiding returning home to the tiny apartment. Mia would turn up the radio and play her favorite rap station, passing strip malls and car dealerships and a dozen bars and dispensaries that Jessie wished she could enter. It didn’t seem fair how so much fun was reserved for supposed adults.
Once, they stopped at the community plaza just off the 111, where there were lighted fountains and a movie theater named for Mary Pickford (another long-dead and forgotten celebrity). The sun was just setting behind the mountains and the colored lights of the big central fountain came on. Movie tickets here were too expensive, but they strolled around, watching the Latino kids screeching and scrambling over the fountain, their families relaxing on the nearby turf. The slight breeze tossed the tall palms lining the walkway, each strung with white fairy lights. On a night like this, Jessie could see why this part of her family had never left the desert, despite the terrible heat and retail sprawl. She dug a quarter out of her wallet and threw it into another fountain, between its two spitting mosaic frogs. In the hot night, her whole body was a wish, a yearning for something beyond words.
But lately after dinner, they often piled back into Mia’s beat-up white C-class that matched her dingy white apartment and drove to the nearest Bank of America. Sometimes Jessie took out money, a small fan of twenties she handed to over to Mia. And sometimes she hung back, while Mia, armed with Jessie’s ATM card and PIN, deposited a couple of checks. “Just sign the backs,” she’d tell Jessie, who would obey and pay no attention when Mia turned and handed her a slippery white receipt. Over their heads date beetles shrilled in the trees, louder than the passing traffic on Date Palm Drive.
They kissed and kissed one night until her brain was smooth as a polished marble. In the middle of the thin rug they rolled and grappled until Nick’s hips ground into hers with a shove.
“Take ’em off,” he urged, tugging at the leg of her underwear.
“Wait—not yet.”
“Damnit, Jessie.” He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “Stop acting like such a cock tease. I see enough of that at work.”
“But I’m not!” she said. “I just wanted to talk a little more, first.”
“Nah. Forget it.” He edged away. “I should get to bed. G’night,” he yawned.
“Wait!” Jessie hissed. She wriggled into her shorts, rose, and pulled down her shirt. She tried putting her arms around his waist, but he twisted away and moved toward Mia’s desk.
“Let it go, Jess.”
She followed him across the room and stood beside him as he switched on the desk lamp. “But it’s still so early! Barely even midnight.”
He kissed the top of her head and mussed her hair. “Time for good little girls to be asleep in their sofa beds.”
“But … there’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about.”
“What’s that?”
“You know, I’m going home in a few days.” “Uh-huh.” Nick scratched at his beard. “And?” “And. So, I was hoping we’d keep in touch. Just us. Maybe you could text me or call me from work on … like another phone, sometime. I’d love to hear from you.” She failed to keep the trembling in her knees from climbing into her voice.
“That’s flattering, sweetheart. But I think you realize why I can’t do that. This is all a one-shot deal here. But we’ve had a good time, right?”
“Well, sure, but I was thinking … see, next June I’ll graduate, and then I can totally move down here for good. It’s less than a year away, when you think about it.” Without meaning to, Jessie’s volume had risen along with the force of her words.
Nick frowned and raised a finger to his lips. “You’re cute,” he said in a near whisper, “but really fuckin’ deluded.”
Unconvinced, Jessie twined her arms around his neck. “Just a kiss good night?”
“Nick? Jessica?” Mia’s voice approached from down the hall.
“Christ,” Nick said, and flung Jessie’s arms away.
Mia appeared in the doorway, blinking and pretty in a lavender chemise, her dark hair spilling around her bare shoulders. “What the hell’s going on?” Her blue eyes snapped in bold relief against her brown complexion.
“I wanted to—well, I was showing him that Zeppelin logo you drew.” Jessie grabbed at a sheet of drawing paper across the nearby desk. She and Nick both looked down at Mia’s rendering of the iconic winged angel, his head and nude torso bent back and muscular arms reaching heavenward.
“This is fantastic, babe,” Nick said to Mia.
“You knew it was a surprise, goddamnit,” she barked at Jessie. “And,” she nodded at Nick, “that still doesn’t explain why your fly is down.”
He looked down and pulled up the zipper. “Whoops,” he said, shrugging. “We were about wrappin
g it up here.”
“Yeah,” added Jessie.
“Remind me when you’re going home again?” said Mia.
“On Monday.”
“That is just about soon enough for me.” Mia swung around and started back down the hallway. “Are you coming or not, Nicholas?”
“Right behind you, babe.”
During the night, Jessie woke. It felt very late, but when she looked at her phone, she saw she’d been asleep for only an hour. She heard a noise, and another. There was a rustle and squeak, and then Mia’s voice calling out Nick’s name, over and over. Jessie strained to hear anything from Nick, but after Mia’s last shout there was nothing but a muffled tension that lingered throughout the apartment. She mashed the pillow over her head, but it was too late to block Mia’s moans from replaying again and again in her ears, too late to stop the tangled images from forming in her mind.
In the morning, Jessie hurried to put on her swimsuit and get to the pool early. She needed to be away from her cousin.
“We’ll be going up to my parents’ house tomorrow,” Mia told her, as she grabbed a towel and headed for the door.
Jessie stopped. “The three of us?” That sounded promising. Maybe there’d be a chance to corner Nick alone in her aunt and uncle’s big red-tiled Spanish house.
“Another couple is joining us. We’ve got the house for the weekend; my parents are in Laguna to escape the heat. Just pack a few things, okay?” She smiled hard at Jessie and tapped at her phone, her long neon-pink nails clicking against the screen.
Trashy, Jessie thought.
Dozing beneath the lone shade tree near the apartment pool, Jessie nearly missed the call. She saw it was her dad, Jim, and swiped to answer.
“Daddy—” she started, but was cut short by her father’s angry voice. He never yelled at her, not really, but he was yelling now, all the way from the Bay Area. He was yelling about money and what in the hell, what the fuck was she up to, who were these people, and did she have any idea her account was over six thousand fucking dollars in the red?
“The red? What do you mean? I’m sorry! I didn’t know, I swear,” Jessie stammered, around and over the continued noise from her phone. He said other words: check fraud and cops and felony. It all sounded so bad, and she had no idea how to make it better. She thought about the trips to the bank, or sometimes the Circle K with its ATM machine beside the Monster energy drinks and Lotto tickets. All those slips of receipts she’d shoved in her pockets, or even thrown away without a glance.
Palm Springs Noir Page 6