“Yaknow, Gerry, I was thinking I’d best get back to Twin Falls, but maybe it would be better to stay in Jackpot for the night. Maybe we could throw some noises of our own through those thin walls.”
She bats her lashes, and his mental cineplex is running all kinds of movies. The new Mimi is eminently fuckable. She lets a hand drift to his ass (do women do that?). He considers the possibilities.
The sound of Gerry’s voice sends Karen into a very quiet panic. If she doesn’t announce her presence right away, she is officially spying. But then she hears a woman’s voice, high and flirty, and she’s screwed. Any appearance now would be cock-blocking. So she hides in the corner and orders coffee after coffee in a low, mumbly voice.
When she hears them rising from the table, she hides her face in a menu but manages to get a peek. Oh god, she’s all boobs and ass and… green hair?
Once they’re gone, she flags down the waitress, but she’s taking too long getting the bill so Karen hands her a twenty and tells her to keep the change. She sees them leaving through the front doors and follows. She comes out to the lot just in time to see her happy couple boarding the sidewalk.
This is how a previously respectable woman finds herself transformed into a pathetic stalker. It’s all parking lots – Barton’s, the general store, the Horseshu – so she hops from car to car, imagining the xylophone tip-toe music they use in cartoons. Oh god, they’re holding hands.
When they arrive at the silver van, Karen runs out of cars, so she hides behind a very stinky dumpster. Greenhair is really working it. Karen supplies her own dialogue. “Fuck that neighbor bitch. Take me home and screw me silly, big boy. I’ll wail like a banshee.”
Karen comes to a realization: this is precisely how Gerry has been feeling all week, as she went on and on about Lonnie’s visit. Oh god, she’s a horrible person. Maybe Gerry deserves greenhair.
Oh god, she’s kissing him. Oh god, he’s kissing back. Is she grabbing his ass? Who does that? The jealousy hits her brain like a sneaker wave.
After a small eternity, they break off, and the slut puts a hand to Gerry’s face. Gerry says something (smooth bastard). Greenhair gets into the van! Drive, you bitch, drive! Karen braces herself for a right turn toward Gerry’s apartment, but it never comes. She follows the taillights as they climb the long hill out of town and disappear. And only then, takes a breath.
Gerry watches the minivan top the hill and crosses the wide roadway. He has passed up a rare opportunity, and he’s afraid he’s going to regret it. Especially a few hours hence when he hears the rhythmic pounding of Karen’s headboard, celebrating the natural wonder that is morning wood. Perhaps he will distract himself by pouring scalding water over his face.
Yikes. I’m getting morbid.
“Excuse me!”
What the… Some Cyndi Lauper soundalike is standing across the street in a pink jacket.
“Can you tell me how to get to Winnemucca?”
He half expects it’s Angela. It seems about the right time for hallucinations. He squints, and it’s something even weirder.
“Karen!?”
“Will this ‘Karen’ person take me to Winnemucca?!”
“You are really attached to this gag!”
“Because I like to say ‘Winnemucca’!”
Karen tries to enter the street, but an eighteen-wheeler scares her back.
“Where’s Lonnie?!”
“For all I know…”
They say it in unison: “Winnemucca!”
The truck rumbles past. She tries again, but a UPS van pulls from the next driveway and cuts her off.
“What’d you do, piss him off?!” He tries to hide his elation.
“I did! But he gave me this awesome jacket!”
“Nice!”
Just as the UPS guy passes, a dozen souped-up Japanese compacts race down the hill in some kind of miniature Grand Prix. Karen steps back and laughs.
“If I don’t make it, it’s been nice knowin’ you!”
“Take your time! I got all night!”
“No you don’t!”
He follows her gaze to the east and finds that the sky has begun to lighten.
“Holy shit!”
The last of the rice rockets buzzes away. Karen looks both ways, waits another second, and embarks. She finds Gerry headed the other way. He meets her at the yellow line, drops her into a dip and applies lips. He wishes someone were there to take a photograph. He pulls her up and leads her to the other side.
“Whew!” she says. “What was that about?”
“I’ve always wanted to kiss a gorgeous woman in the middle of Highway 93.”
She rolls an R. “Rrrrrr. I like your choice of adjectives.”
Gerry is feeling so punchy that he has to parse his own previous sentence. “Gorgeous! Yeah.”
For some reason, they head south. Gerry wraps an arm around Karen’s shoulder. Karen slips a hand into Gerry’s pocket (do women do that?).
“So,” she says. “What happened to your leprechaun?”
“Leprechaun?”
She goes back to the Cyndi Lauper voice. “Oh my gawd, Gerry, you’re like, my hero!”
“Stalker!”
“Yeah yeah. I was sitting at the next table.”
“Former boudoir client. Lost a hundred pounds, became a stripper. The usual story.”
“And you sent her home?”
“It was a nice offer, but I’m feeling a little preoccupied.”
Karen stops and gives him a kiss. “Gerry, I ran into Kerry tonight. She told me.”
“Oh geez. Did she attack you?”
“Tried to. The furniture was on my side.”
“Sorry.”
“Then I told Lonnie I was in love with somebody else. And he got upset and left.”
Gerry works hard to process what she has just said, but the long night has him feeling a little groggy.
“Wow.”
She slaps him on the shoulder. “That’s all I get? ‘Wow’?”
“No.” He pulls her in for another kiss, this one less dramatic, more meaningful.
“Not bad,” she says. “For used lips.”
“Oh my god! You saw the kiss too?”
“I’m a desperate woman, pal.”
They go back to an arm-in-arm stroll. Gerry smiles.
“I love you, darlin’.”
“I love you, Sugarpuss.”
When the Bond Girls arrive, they find their boss and her friend Gerry asleep on the red couch. It’s too cute for words.
The Girl in the Flaming Dress Page 18