Can't Buy Me Love

by Summer Kinard

  “Save it for the grudge match, ladies!” Ruben was shouting. “Next month’s Lucha Libre Night, here at Longleaf Brewery and Distillery! Crowd favorite Mojita!” he gestured to Gabi, and a maudlin group cheered loudly, “versus the horrendous Ally-Hater!” Boos followed.

  “The hell?!” Ally was trying to make herself heard. “I ain’t no luchadora. I was just giving that puta Vanessa what was coming to her.”

  Ruben turned to face her. “You either face off in honorable lucha, or you’re about to get your freeloading butt well and truly kicked and a lifetime ban from the brewery and Beans and Spice, to boot.”

  Ally relented and allowed the women holding her back from fighting to pull her away from the confrontation. Ruben saw Vanessa and walked up to her.

  “I think you had best go home; call it a night early. I saw what happened. I won’t even dock your pay.”

  Vanessa looked up, surprised at his kindness.

  “Don’t get any ideas. It’s just this once,” Ruben said. “Besides, that grudge match is going to make us loads of money.” Ruben looked over Vanessa’s shoulder and waved someone over. “I’ll get Bradley to make sure you bike home okay.”

  Bradley sidled up to her and nodded at Ruben. “No problem, boss. I know where she lives.”

  “Don’t get any ideas, Bradley,” Vanessa muttered.

  “You wish,” Bradley smiled. “Come on, let’s get your stuff.”

  When they were back at their bikes, Bradley turned to Vanessa. “Vanessa, I want to ask you something.”

  “I’m not having sex with you, Bradley. I may be emotionally devastated and ruined in the eyes of the man I love, but I’m not desperate,” Vanessa stared ahead, not turning to look at him. She could feel the numbness threatening to wear off her face as tears niggled at the corners of her eyes.

  “It’s not that. I just need your help with something.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “One more dive, for old time’s sake?” Vanessa started to shake her head no. “I don’t mean sex. I mean a dumpster.”

  “Why, Bradley? Can’t you do this another time?”

  “Look, Nessa. I didn’t invite Ally here tonight to ruin your life. I asked her to meet me after to go diving. You know I’m no good at getting in and out by myself. And since you ran off my new foraging partner…”

  “Fine. Okay, I’ll help you. But I’m not going in a dumpster dressed like this. It’s my new outfit.” Her lip trembled as she looked down at the pretty skirt. She had hoped it would make a good impression. “Let’s just go. I’ll follow you,” she choked out. It would be easier to cry while she was riding. The wind would dry her tears, and no one would have to see her face as she glided past in the dark. She kicked off into the night and followed Bradley. She tried not to wonder if this was the best she could look forward to from now on, biking to dumpsters in the middle of the night with a man she did not love while the man she loved was across town somewhere knowing she had lied.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Bottom

  of the Bin

  Vanessa blinked back tears as they passed a business brightly lit out front with neon lights. She pulled up behind Bradley and looked away while she dried her face on the inside of the scoop neck top.

  “Where are we?” she asked, looking around a surprisingly clean alley. A white brick wall was on one side, a privacy fence on the other. The dumpster was extra high. She could see why Bradley needed help getting in and out. He had trouble with the regular-sized ones.

  “A sex shop.”

  “What?! Bradley, they have cameras at these places. I do not want to be on the news.”

  “No, it’s okay. I know the guy on shift tonight, Tony. He comes in the coffee shop all the time to use the free wi-fi. He’s making it safe for us.”

  “Let’s get this over with.” Vanessa walked to the dumpster and helped Bradley flip the lid back. She squatted and held out her hands to give him a boost. “And please be careful this time. This skirt is new.”

  Bradley looked her over admiringly, a wistful smile tugging up half his face. Then he nodded and stepped into her hands. He made it into the can on the first try.

  “Jackpot!” he called from inside.

  “Okay. Toss out what needs taking, or hand it here,” Vanessa reached her hand over the edge and waved it. Bradley immediately stuffed several DVD cases into her grasp. She made the mistake of looking at the top one before she set them down behind her. “Ew, Bradley. Just, yuck.” He handed out a dozen more cases. “All done?” She felt dirtier standing there than she had ever done before. “This is a new low,” she said under her breath.

  “Just a sec,” Bradley grunted.

  “You’d better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”

  “Huh?” he paused. “Oh. Nessa, get your mind out of the gutter. I’m moving a really heavy bag of trash.” There was a rustling of papers and a clattering sound, then Bradley held up a last handful of DVDs.

  Vanessa took them and waited to see if Bradley needed help down. He popped up suddenly, apparently standing on something tall within. His torso towered over the dumpster. Vanessa thought he looked too bizarre not to have been digitally edited into the scene. He hopped over the edge and bent to pick through the DVD cases.

  “What exactly are you looking for, Bradley?” Vanessa yawned.

  “This,” Bradley held up a tacky softcore film from the 1970’s, “and this.” It was another old-fashioned porn cover, this one featuring a black and white nude with a dark feather boa covering one breast and most of her girl bits.

  “Vintage porn?”

  “Not just any vintage porn. Seventies stocking rippers and thirties burlesque with benefits.”

  Vanessa stared at him, mouth agape in question.

  “It’s for Amber. I finally found out what turns her on. Then Tony told me they were tossing some of the stuff that wasn’t selling, and I knew I had to check.”

  “So we came here in order to turn on your new girlfriend? I thought you two were already fine in that department.”

  “I was fine; she wasn’t.”

  Vanessa nodded acknowledgement, too weary to analyze the intricacies of Bradley’s relationships. Bradley noticed.

  “Hey, Nessa, thanks for coming with me and helping.” Bradley tipped the unwanted DVDs back into the dumpster, then scanned Vanessa’s face, a crease between his brows. “You look exhausted. Let’s get you home.”

  “Yes. Thanks, Bradley.”

  They rode back to Vanessa’s building in silence. Vanessa could not help but replay the night’s events while they rode. Maybe he had a bizarre way of showing it in general, but Bradley had been a real friend to her when Mary attacked her. He deserved actual thanks, not just a boost into a bin of old porn. Bradley walked her to the bike rack to make sure she was safe.

  “Hey, Bradley, thank you for tonight—what you said to Mary.”

  “No problem, Nessa. I meant it. But, hey, you need to get to bed, and I need to go bed Amber.” Bradley had the horny grin on his face that she had once found exciting but now thought was goofy.

  “Too much information, Bradley,” Vanessa waved him away. “Enjoy your films.”

  “I will. They are my ticket to every man’s dream.”

  “I’d rather not know, Bradley.” She turned away, preventing further disclosures. “Goodnight, Bradley,” Vanessa called over her shoulder while walking toward her stairs. One good thing had come of tonight, at least. She knew that she was well and truly over Bradley, forever.

  Vanessa walked slowly up the stairs, not wanting to face her bright apartment alone. She had not realized what she was doing all week as she crocheted and sewed, but she had been fluffing her love nest for tonight. Now she was dragging home alone after boosting her horny and possibly slightly-drunk ex-boyfriend into a sex shop dumpster, and Javier was probably sitting at home with his parents congratulating himself on his narrow escape from inchastity with a lying adulteress who slept with publicly drunken
dumpster diggers.

  “Stop it,” she whispered. “Stop beating yourself up.” Vanessa took a deep breath and swallowed. She would call Javier in the morning, after a good night’s sleep. She would tell him how much she loved him, how she had not known Brian was married, how she had meant to tell him about the scrapbooks this weekend, since they started her on a path to loving him. “But they were just the beginning.” Vanessa saw again her dream of a life with Javier, and her heart sank at the thought of losing it. She could barely see the keyhole through her tears and had to unlock the door by feel.

  Vanessa pushed open the door and stepped in quickly, turning to sob against it as soon as the door made a barrier between her and the world. She gulped air between sobs and burped loudly when it came back up. She was hugging herself on the floor when someone knocked at the door. She sniffed loudly, stifling another sob, but managed to find her voice.

  “Who is it?” A wild hope careened through her, and she willed Javier to be on the other side of the door.

  “Ness? Are you okay? I could hear you from the stairs.” It was Bradley.

  “Go away, Bradley.”

  “Come on, Nessa. Open the door. Your neighbor is giving me the stink eye out here.”

  “She probably thinks you made me cry.” Vanessa opened the door. “Why are you here, Bradley?”

  “I came up to see if I could get that Kung Fu DVD, but then I heard you crying. So now I’m here to make sure that you are not in a dangerous way.”

  “I love him!” Vanessa wailed, her sobs returning at the show of compassion from Bradley, of all people, “And I ruined it all, and now I have to wake up to an empty bed and an empty table instead of making him breakfast.”

  Bradley hugged Vanessa and let her cry on his chest until his T-shirt was soggy. “Listen, Vanessa, I didn’t understand a word you just said, but I don’t think you should be alone. Can I call someone for you? Gabi, maybe? Or the redhead?”

  The experience of hearing Professor Percy called “the redhead” jarred her out of another sob. Vanessa sniffed loudly and wiped her face on the inside of her shirt. “No. Thanks, Bradley. I’ll be okay. I’m not suicidal, but thanks for checking on me.” She picked up a disc from the bookshelf next to the door. “Here’s your DVD.”

  “Thanks, Ness. Look, if you need me to stay awhile…” Bradley looked into Vanessa’s puffy red face, clearly concerned.

  “No, you go, Bradley. Thanks for checking on me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Bradley, go,” Vanessa’s voice was stronger. “That way, one of us, at least, get’s laid tonight.”

  Her crude joke had the effect she wanted. Bradley smiled slightly, nodded, and left.

  Vanessa sighed deeply and gazed around her plumped and fluffed and beautiful apartment. “All this for nothing,” she whispered. The words soured her stomach, and gave her pause. For nothing? Was it nothing that she had a comfortable place to call home, that her passion for beauty and maybe even God had been rekindled? Was a closet full of skirts, a bed covered in a beautiful blanket, and a kitchen full of appetizing food and bright aprons nothing?

  The thought of food drew Vanessa to the kitchen. She sniffed the air, trying to decide which fruit was ripest. She caught a whiff of dumpster and coughed. Had she always smelled like this, when she was with Bradley? She shuddered and washed her hands. The black night turned the window into a mirror. A crease marked her forehead with grief, but her eyes looked more than sad. They looked betrayed, fierce.

  “I’m not nothing,” her reflection challenged. Vanessa heard herself speak the words aloud, and she crumpled to the floor. Javier was so good, and she had felt so good with him. Now that he was probably gone, she wondered if their relationship had really been different from her previous ones. Were they really good for each other, or was she just using Javier to escape from herself again?

  Vanessa felt the air conditioner kick on. The vent was under the sink. She pulled her knees to her chest and scooted to the pantry door, escaping the chill. An apron brushed her shoulder. The fabric was one of her favorites, a bold geometric floral that she had sewn into rows of ruffles all the way down to her calves. When she had tried it on to test it, she was at once glamorous and quaint, like pound cake soaked in expensive liqueur or movies from the 1930’s.

  “Oh, my God. I forgot about Casablanca.” Vanessa doubted that Javier would join her after tonight, but at least she had a possibility. The thread of hope from the apron stirred her out of her morose self-reflections. She stood, grabbed a handful of ripe cherries, and walked to her bedroom, humming “As Time Goes By.”

  The cheerful bedspread made her eyes sting, so she turned off the light right away. She tried to stifle the rising sob with humor. “Margery will be disappointed not to be kept up.” Her quip brought on a fresh wave of tears. Javier’s eyes flashed in her mind, hurt burning where there had been trust and joy. She dropped the cherries and collapsed onto her bed, screeching and crying into the pillows. Loss and self-loathing washed over her. There was something seriously wrong with her, and no amount of sewing or crochet or beauty could hide the thing that made men molest her, the dark pocket of horror that drew her to self-destruction. Maybe with Javier and the two-for-one deal with God, she might have had a chance. But God was probably not interested in her any longer.

  Her face was hot, so she turned away from the wool coverlet to suck in cool breaths. Something cold slid into her chin when she moved. Startled by the sudden chill, she grabbed at the object. It was the Raphael medal. Raphael: healer, matchmaker.

  “You’re letting me down,” she sniffed bitterly toward the archangel in her hand. She pulled the chain off her neck and thrust the pendant to the floor. The cool silver pinged in the dark. It was the closest sound to music Vanessa could imagine a discarded saint might make. Its beauty startled her into silence. She drew a deep breath, her head dropped to the pillow, and she slept.

  A moment later, the sun poked her in the eye. Someone was banging on her front door. Several someones, actually. The banging stopped abruptly before Vanessa managed to raise herself up off the pillow. She had slept so hard and so fully that she had not moved positions all night. Her cheek was moist with the heat of drool and tears. She pulled her face up, and the pillowcase came with her, melded to the skin in front of her ear. Vanessa did not bother to pull the cloth from her face. She cocked her free ear toward the door, wondering who could have made such a racket.

  “Ma! I’ve got it!” Gabi’s voice pierced through to the bedroom.

  “Come on, hurry, mija. I’m worried about her,” Carla answered.

  A scuffle ensued as the sounds of several women laden with paper bags and talking loudly entered the apartment. Vanessa sighed and closed her eyes to prepare herself for the onslaught of concern. She heard her bedroom door open. Then someone screamed.

  “Dios mio! Marian, ven por aca! She’s done herself in!” Carla wailed.

  Shoes squeaked on the floor, and Vanessa bolted upright in the bed. Carla screamed again.

  “Ma! It’s cherries, not blood,” Gabi assured nervously.

  “Well, then, I’ll start on the food, shall I?” Marian drawled, unflustered. “Hey, there, honey,” she smiled and nodded toward Vanessa before walking off toward the kitchen.

  “Gracias a Dios,” Carla said, crossing herself. She paused, taking in Vanessa’s face: her red eyes, a puffy nose, and a pillow stuck to her right cheek, dangling in the air. “Oh, mija,” she cooed.

  Vanessa was pulled into a hug before she had a chance to brush the pillowcase away. She let herself be swayed back and forth in Carla’s love for a few moments until Gabi did a wrestling jump onto the bed and knocked them both backwards.

  “Hermana, you scared the crap out of us. Why did you not answer your phone?”

  “Huh?” Vanessa questioned Gabi from under Carla’s and Gabi’s arms. She could feel a tingle on her right cheek where the impact of Gabi’s leap had finally pulled the pillowcase away from her skin.


  “Your phone?” Gabi spoke slowly as one would to a confused toddler. “Why no answer?”

  “Oh,” Vanessa remembered her hopes for last night. “I had hoped to be with Javier this morning, and I thought we would sleep in. The ringer’s off.”

  “Mija, get off already,” Carla chided, pressing Gabi upwards and off of them with surprising ease. She sat up and turned to look at the still face-down Vanessa. “When Bradley called us early this morning, we were worried sick. I thought you might have done something rash.”

  “Bradley called you?” Vanessa asked, gobsmacked. “Why would he call you?”

  No one heard her last question, because Carla squealed admonishingly. She had spotted the Raphael medal on the floor.

  “Ay! Your santo, Vanessa. How is it supposed to work if you don’t keep it on?” Carla shook the medal in Vanessa’s face.

  Chastened, Vanessa put the necklace back on. They left her to get ready for breakfast.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Shrine

  Marian tapped the top of the soft pink teakettle with the pad of her broad fingertip to check that the water had boiled. She lifted the kettle and poured the hot water over a basket of jasmine-scented green leaves in an orange pot. A satisfied nod and an eye smile completed the ritual. Vanessa watched the older woman take her time turning back toward the table where Vanessa sat with a bantering Carla and Gabi. Marian looked up, sensing Vanessa’s attention, and smiled broadly.

  “This will help,” she stated simply, tilting her head so that she might have been indicating the tea or the laughing women who had surrounded Vanessa.

  Carla looked up at the exchange. “Ay, mija, eat! These eggs are from the freedom range. And this bacon is from pigs that ate wild greens and pooped free in the woods. Marian met them before they were breakfast.”

  “It’s free range, Ma,” Gabi interjected, between bites. She was shoveling back the eggs, bacon, and crepes that were stacked high on her plate. “Marian met the farmer, not the pigs.”