Love Inc.

by Yvonne Collins

  He gets up to pay the bill just as the all clear text arrives from Syd: Mission accomplished. Clear out so I can return keys.

  ‘It was so great to see you,’ he says, walking me out of the diner. ‘Let’s talk soon. There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.’

  ‘No,’ I say, too hastily. ‘You don’t have to tell me anything.’

  Eric looks surprised. ‘But it’s something nice,’ he says, taking my hand. ‘Really nice.’

  Another nice, big lie. Well, I’ve heard enough of them.

  I tug my hand out of his, but he grabs it again and pulls me toward him, sinking his other hand into my hair. His lips find mine, and my eyes start to close. Then I catch a glimpse of two heads – one blond, one dark – peeking around the dry cleaner’s. I put one palm on Eric’s chest and push. No matter how tempting it is to rest my head on his shoulder and forget this all happened, I can’t. That’s not how this story ends.

  Eric looks even more surprised. In happier times, I never pulled away first. ‘Is everything OK?’ he asks, as I disentangle his fingers from my hair.

  ‘Fine, but I’ve got to go. Dad’s been crazy uptight since the fire. Bye for now.’

  Bye forever, I think, as Eric walks back inside the bakery, and I run toward the dry cleaner’s.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Syd asks.

  ‘He grabbed me,’ I say. ‘I had to play along so he didn’t suspect anything.’

  ‘We all know the guy has a hot mouth,’ Kali says. ‘I would have kissed him once more myself if I’d had the chance.’

  This pisses Syd off even more. She powers up her camera and zooms in on the last frame. ‘If I see tongue, you’re dead, Zahra.’

  ‘You filmed us?’ I ask. ‘What for?’

  ‘Evidence,’ Syd says. ‘You do the same.’

  She heads back to the bakery and stands outside waving until Eric joins her. Kali trains the camera on the door and sees Eric’s face brighten at the sight of Syd. ‘Check out that dopey grin,’ Kali says, zooming in. ‘He sure never looked at me like that.’

  I swallow the lump in my throat. He never looked at me like that either. Not today, not ever. He’s listening as if every word dropping from her red lips is a jewel. Obviously, Eric and Syd had something special. He didn’t think they were on a break at all. He was just killing time until Syd took him off the back burner.

  Eric rests his hands on Syd’s shoulders, and I notice she’s not pulling away either. Bending forward, he touches his forehead to hers briefly before kissing her. Syd closes her eyes for the merest second. When she opens them again, she says something that makes Eric’s jaw drop. Then she shoves him away abruptly.

  ‘Syd, wait, can’t we talk about this?’ he calls, as she breaks into a run. ‘Please! I – you!’

  The middle word is cut off by the roar of a passing bus.

  In the distance, Syd swipes at her face with the back of her hand before disappearing around a corner.

  Kali sits across from me at the trailer’s fold-down kitchen table, idly strumming her guitar while I work on my laptop. Three feet away, Syd sprawls on a wooden bench strewn with throw cushions, staring at two little fans over the kitchen sink, which are working overtime to push a breeze through the tight space. Her phone buzzes for the fourth time since we left the scene of the crime, and she finally powers it down. Two minutes later, my phone starts to ring. I check the call display and turn my phone off too.

  ‘Well, I guess we know where I stand in the pecking order,’ Kali says when her phone finally buzzes. She puts her guitar down to shut it off. ‘He said he loves you, didn’t he?’ she asks Syd.

  For a minute or two, the only sound in the trailer is the tapping of computer keys as I work on a FOR SALE poster featuring a photo of Miss Daisy. On her hood is the sparkly unicorn leaping over a rainbow that Syd painted. We’re listing the car at two hundred bucks, a ridiculously low price for a Charger. There are tear-away tags with Eric’s cell phone number, which should hopefully trigger an avalanche of calls.

  ‘If he loved me,’ Syd says at last, ‘he wouldn’t have cheated on me. All I wanted was to take a breather. Turns out while I was doing the breathing, Eric was doing you. And Zahra.’

  ‘He wasn’t doing me,’ I say.

  ‘Or me,’ Kali adds, leaning over and taking three sodas out of the trailer’s mini fridge. ‘If it makes you feel any better, he didn’t even try – and we shared a tent at that music festival.’

  Actually, that makes me feel better.

  Syd sighs. ‘In some ways, that’s worse. He was making you CDs and oven mitts.’

  ‘It was a pot holder,’ I say.

  ‘I don’t care if it was a friggin’ toilet seat cover,’ Syd says, popping the top on her soda. ‘My point is, this wasn’t just about sex. He was into you. And Kali.’

  ‘But you’re the only one he was actually in love with,’ I say. Whatever he wanted to tell me today, it wasn’t that. To Eric, I’m purely B team.

  Syd rolls onto her side and props herself up with a pillow. ‘If that’s love, I want nothing to do with it. My mom got that kind of love from my dad, and it’s messed her up plenty.’

  I pass around the croissants I bought at Copelin’s Bakery this morning. ‘I’ll eat to that.’

  Syd takes one and shares it with Banksy. ‘Are you going to finish that poster today or what?’

  ‘Only if you stop distracting me with your girl talk,’ I say.

  Grinning, Syd tosses the last piece of croissant at me. It goes straight into the hole of Kali’s guitar.

  ‘Hey!’ Kali turns the guitar facedown and shakes the crumbs out of it. ‘A little respect, please.’

  The instrument is covered in scratches, the pick guard is chipped, the wood on the side is splintered, and two of the tuning pegs are missing.

  ‘It’s a piece of crap,’ Syd says.

  ‘This piece of crap is all I have left from my real dad,’ Kali says. ‘Mom trashed most of his stuff, including this guitar. She says he cared more about his band than his family. That’s why he left us.’

  Poor Kali. It must be horrible to be dumped by your own dad.

  ‘I’m taking guitar lessons and saving up for a new guitar,’ Kali continues. ‘A good one.’

  ‘Z, I’m begging you. Finish up before she starts serenading us.’

  ‘Done,’ I say, hitting the print button.

  Kali takes the first poster out of the printer and laughs. Miss Daisy looks more like a parade float than a muscle car.

  ‘Do you think he cried when he saw it?’ Kali asks.

  ‘I’ve never seen Eric cry, but I suppose if anything could break him, this would,’ Syd says. ‘That and the fact that Miz D won’t see any action for a very long time.’

  A surge of adrenaline fills me, and I lift my soda can in the air. ‘To revenge! Let no man treat us like dirt again.’

  ‘To revenge,’ Kali and Syd repeat in unison as our drinks collide.

  I’ve never been into sports, but this must be what it feels like after winning a play-off game. The strangest thing is that I didn’t even know my ‘team’ a few weeks ago.

  ‘Let’s celebrate,’ Kali says. ‘We can order sushi.’

  ‘I’m in,’ I say. I want to prolong this giddy feeling as long as I can. It won’t last forever.

  ‘Sorry,’ Syd says, punching a number into her phone. ‘I already have plans tonight … Hey Mom, where are we meeting?’ After a pause she turns away from us and lowers her voice. ‘Spanish lessons? Since when –? Well, what time does it –? OK, then how about –?’ With every fragmented sentence, Syd’s sturdy shoulders droop more. ‘Right, spinning class. You wouldn’t want to miss that.’ Syd’s voice has grown eerily controlled. ‘No problem. Catch you later.

  ‘On the bright side, Mom isn’t as needy anymore,’ Syd says to us, hanging up. ‘Too bad it’s too late to save my relationship.’ She raises her hand as Kali starts to speak. ‘I know – it wasn’t worth saving.’


  ‘At least you can stay and celebrate now,’ I say.

  ‘I have a better idea,’ Syd says, hooking up Banksy. ‘Let’s go out.’

  I catch the silver lighter with my right hand, staring at the tall, blond stranger in the tight pink dress.

  ‘Don’t just stand there, sweetie,’ the drag queen says, offering up a long cigarette holder. ‘Make yourself useful.’

  Syd and Kali laugh as they continue to put up Miss Daisy posters outside the gay bar. I’m not the only one coasting on adrenaline.

  Sweeping a lock of platinum hair behind his ear with one manicured hand, the drag queen waggles the holder with the other and says, ‘Ticktock, baby. I go on in ten.’

  I step forward and flick the lighter, and then drop it into the sequined clutch he holds open for me.

  ‘Your blush isn’t doing you any favors,’ he says, blowing smoke to one side. ‘Use something peachy to bring out your eyes.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll try that,’ I say.

  I’ve never met a drag queen before. The upside of Eric’s downside is that life has gotten more interesting. Luckily, Dad lifted my grounding as soon as he learnt Rico was out of the picture. He pretended it was an act of mercy, but it was really about his desperate need to bury himself in work.

  ‘Come back in a few years and see my show,’ the drag queen says. He checks out a poster and does a double take. ‘Oh, my. That’s quite a paint job.’

  ‘There’s a Shelby Charger under that unicorn,’ Kali says. ‘We’re helping a friend post the signs.’

  Another drag queen comes outside and joins us. He’s wearing a red satin minidress and fishnets, with an auburn wig. ‘Beautiful hair, sugar,’ he says, taking a flyer from my hand. ‘What’s the catch? Does it run?’

  ‘The owner’s desperate for the cash,’ Syd says. ‘And he’s getting her fixed up as we speak.’

  ‘He’s good with cars,’ Kali says. ‘And so cute.’ She takes out her phone and shows them a picture of Eric. ‘You’d like him.’

  The guys rip Eric’s phone number off the posters.

  ‘Why not meet in person?’ Syd suggests. ‘He’s got a basketball game in the park down the street at eight tomorrow night.’

  Chapter Seven

  Where r u? Really need u now!

  The text enrages me to the point where I hurl my cell phone into my locker and slam the door. Yes, it’s one of my favorite possessions, but right now it feels like the phone’s on Eric’s side. But I have to answer him. It’s only Tuesday and the paint is still fresh on Miss Daisy. Our plan is to phase him out slowly so he’s never quite sure what happened or who to blame for the slam.

  I open the locker, grab the phone, and quickly text, Sorry! Running 2 class now. Ltr. Then I hurl the phone back into the locker.

  ‘I see the anger management sessions aren’t doing much good,’ someone says. I turn and find Brody leaning against the wall, wearing the red and white uniform of the Travis Rebels basketball team. According to Kali, Brody transferred to Travis when she arrived at Austin High only because Travis has the better sports program.

  ‘It takes more than one session,’ I say. ‘Plus, you’re supposed to avoid all sources of aggravation. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m meeting your sister in the library.’

  He shoves himself off the wall. ‘I’ll walk with you, Red. It’s not safe to set you loose on the student body in this condition.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say, scratching my neck where a hive is coming up. ‘Shouldn’t you be warming up in the gym? I heard the Maroons are going to slaughter you today.’

  ‘Angry and delusional too,’ he says, grinning. ‘Good thing you’re getting help.’

  I walk faster, but Brody keeps pace. ‘So you really gave it to that phone. Boyfriend trouble?’

  ‘I don’t have a boyfriend.’ I suppose trashing Eric’s car makes that official, without the words actually being said.

  ‘Couple more weeks of anger management and you’ll be fending them off,’ he says.

  It’ll be a lot longer than that before I even think about dating again. Like Saliyah says, guys suck.

  A gorgeous cheerleader passes us, blatantly checking Brody out as she heads toward the gym. Without even bothering to say goodbye, he jogs down the hall after her.

  In the library, I find Kali chatting with a lanky blond guy while Syd watches them from a table in the corner. Kali’s hand is on the guy’s arm and she’s staring up at him, all smiles. It’s astounding how quickly she’s getting back in the game. Since Sunday, she’s flirted outrageously with everyone from the drag queens to strangers on the bus. Even Stains and Rambo were on the receiving end of some eyelash batting yesterday, although they seemed more puzzled than entranced by it.

  Giving Lanky Boy’s arm a last squeeze, Kali comes over and joins us.

  ‘Can we at least finish with one jerk before you line up the next?’ Syd says.

  Kali shushes her and peers around for the librarian. ‘I was just recruiting the guy for the school’s eco-club.’ Her posture is great and her chin is high. For Kali, flirting seems to have magical healing properties.

  I wish it were that simple for me. The adrenaline has drained steadily out of my system since we hammered Miss Daisy, and as it faded, waves of nausea returned, along with a melon-sized lump in my throat. When I’m alone, just one word echoes in my ears: stupid. I was stupid to miss the signs, stupid to trust Eric without asking more questions, stupid to build a whole fantasy about our future. Just stupid.

  I expect Syd to look equally depressed, but her topaz eyes are sparkling. Taking her phone out of her backpack, she gestures for us to lean in, and says, ‘Girls, I bring you tidings of great joy.’ She cues up her voice mail. ‘Eric didn’t leave us with much, but we’ll have this play-by-play forever.’

  ‘Syd, it’s me – Eric. I just came around the Albany and found Miss Daisy. She’s trashed! Trashed! Oh my God, there’s a pink horse on the hood! You’ve got to come back and help me.’

  ‘Syd, me again. Where are you? The police are on their way. You should see Daisy … it’s tragic. Can you at least call me?’

  ‘Hey, me again. I’ve filed my police report and I’m waiting for a tow truck. Now it’s starting to rain! The good news is, Daisy still turns over. So don’t worry too much. Call me, OK?’

  ‘Hey, I’ve tried three garages but no one will take Daisy because she stinks. I took a look under the hood and almost puked. There are sick people out there.’

  ‘Good news! I found a mechanic who lost his sense of smell to cancer. He’s done triage on Daisy and the damage looks worse than it actually is. She’s going to be fine. Where are you? I know you’re upset, but this is Daisy. We can work our stuff out later. I need you right now.’

  ‘Hey, I left Daisy and took the bus home. Your mom asked me to stop calling your home line, so call me, OK? I need to talk to someone.’

  ‘Syd, it’s Monday and I still haven’t heard from you. I’m worried. Call my home number or e-mail, OK? I’ve gotta turn off my cell because I’m getting all these crank calls. People think Daisy’s for sale. For like, two hundred bucks. As if.’

  ‘Me again. I’m out with the guys, tearing down the For Sale signs. There must be hundreds because the calls won’t stop. It’s some kind of prank. Listen, this is going to sound crazy, but my mom said the paint job looks like the work of a pro. Do you know anyone who might have done it? Someone from the Maternity Ward, maybe? Is anyone that pissed off at me? I know you’re upset or you’d have called me back, but you’d never take it out on Daisy, right?’

  ‘Syd, forget I even said that. You know I love you and I know you’d never hurt Daisy. But if you have any clues, my mom wants to press charges.’

  We’re about to hang up when we notice there’s a new message.

  ‘Syd, something really weird happened last night. I had a run-in with these … ladies. There’s a story about it on page six in the Chronicle, so you’ll probably see it. The guys on the team are calling me P
owder Puff, but it’ll all blow over. I’d really like to talk to you.’

  Syd is out of her seat in a flash and digging through the pile of papers the librarian keeps at the counter. She comes back with The Austin Chronicle. The daily ‘Keep Austin Weird’ column features a color photo of Eric in his basketball gear standing next to Miss Daisy. Two drag queens perch on the hood, on either side of the unicorn. The story underneath reads:

  ONE HELL OF A RIDE

  Eric Skinner’s proudest possession used to be his well-maintained powder-blue Shelby Charger. But everything changed on Sunday when he came out of a café near the old Albany Hotel to find that the car had been vandalized.

  It doesn’t appear to be a chance hit. Sure, the tires were flat, but how many vandals can paint like that?

  Factor in the fish guts, and this mystery reeks of revenge.

  Lady Luck, a performer at the Cockpit, approached Skinner to make an offer on the car after seeing one of the for Sale signs that were posted all over austin. ‘This is a love story gone wrong,’ says Ms. luck. ‘i can feel it in my bones.’

  Mr Skinner insists it’s a random act of cruelty. ‘no one i know would do this,’ he says. ‘everyone understands what this car means to me.’

  The car is running again, and Mr Skinner has no intention of parting with ‘Miss daisy’ anytime soon. But he does hope someone will come forward with information about the crime. ‘it’s going to cost me at least two grand for the paint job and fumigation,’ he says. ‘Someone should pay for this.’

  But don’t call the number from the posters. it’s no longer in service.

  ‘Two grand for the love of his life? Boo-friggin’-hoo,’ Syd says.

  Kali stares at the article, beaming. ‘It just doesn’t get better than this, does it?’

  ‘I’d frame it if I could,’ I say. ‘But do you think we should be worried? Lady Luck saw us putting up the posters.’