by Alice Dee
“Hey, listen, we have to kick this plan into full gear.” Tristan collapsed on the inside and started sobbing. “We have to do something now Charla! I’m losing my mind! I don’t know, I don’t know!” Tristan put a hand over one side of her face. It killed her to see what she had seen. Never did she think she would see Dominic touching another female in that way. The fact that another girl was on his mind meant Tristan definitely wasn’t. It was all too much to bear, like murder.
“I want to kill him! I want to kill them both!”
Charla tried to calm down her friend but it wasn’t much use. She listened to Tristan bawl for a while as she thought up ways to get back at Hope and Dominic, but mostly Hope.
“Don’t worry,” she promised. “We’ll make them both sorry.”
The next day…
“What are you doing?” Justin, cap pulled down to his brow line, strolled up to Dominic who was spraying his truck with a water hose.
“Oh dude, so gross, yo. Someone threw up on my truck!”
Justin slid his hands on his pockets and grimaced.
“That’s fucking nasty.”
“Take that sponge and take that stuff off, yeah?”
Justin looked horrified. “Fuck that!”
Dominic chuckled and continued spraying the chunks off.
“Yeah so uh, what happened?”
Frustrated, Justin grunted and made his hands his claw like and put them up to his face.
“That girl,” he growled. He told Dominic about their little fight and how Shamayla took off all pissed at him. She called him a day later to say she was sorry and beg his forgiveness.
“I was high as fuck,” Justin added. “And she was full blown on that shit. She was talking and talking and would not shut the fuck up. She blew my high.”
Dominic nodded but didn’t completely get it.
“Talking, huh? That’s what girls do.”
“No, but she was talking in paragraphs. It’s that shit I’m telling you.”
Dominic let the hose fall to the floor. He soaked his oversized sea green sponge in a bucket of soapy water and slapped it on the exterior of his truck.
“What shit? What are you talking about?”
“That bubble, dude. She’s basing, I’m not stupid.”
“Basing?”
“Or something!” Justin shook his head. “She was yapping and yapping and I told her I had to go. So I hang up, and she calls me back like ten minutes later talking about who knows what. Four hours of this shit. I fell asleep dude, she didn’t even notice.”
Dominic ran his hand in circular motion, putting in some elbow work to chip the crusted barf off.
“You’re telling me Shamayla’s a base head?”
“I don’t know man,” Justin shrugged. “That sounds bad. She’s probably just snorting coke. I don’t know. I hope it was just coke.”
“Just coke?” Dominic shook his head. “Dude, what the fuck?”
“She’s been acting different too, real strange. She’s hanging out with some people in west Vegas, real shady people.”
“Hope was looking for her.”
Justin smiled. “Now what’s up with you and Hope?”
Dominic scoffed.
“What? Come on, like Shamayla hasn’t told me.”
“What did Shamayla tell you?”
“You dumped Tris to get with Hope?”
Dominic’s features straightened out. He tossed the sponge into the dumpster and picked up the hose.
“I didn’t dump her for Hope.”
“But you did dump her?”
“For completely unrelated reasons.”
Justin smiled. “Right.”
“It’s true,” Dominic insisted. “We were having problems anyway. But she caught me with Hope. It was all around bad." Dominic sprayed the soap off of his truck.
“What do you mean she “caught” you with Hope?”
“I had just left Hope’s apartment and walked into my place to see her sitting there waiting for me. She knew where I had been and she took off. She still hasn’t talked to me in almost two weeks.”
“Wait up, you fucked Hope?”
Dominic smiled. “But that’s not the worst of it.”
“There’s more?” Justin tilted his head with his mouth hanging open.
“Before Tris took off she told me she’s pregnant.”
Justin put his hands up. “Whoa, stay away. I don’t want your bad luck rubbing off on me.”
“I’ve been trying to reach her. She’s being immature as hell. Maybe she’s lying. She’s probably not even pregnant.”
“Yeah,” Justin snickered. “Or she’s in a dark corner planning an abortion or plotting your murder.”
Dominic made a face like ‘yeah right’.
30… Shamayla’s in west L.V
Hope let herself into the shabby house on the corner of the street. There were no cars parked in the driveway or at the curb. She warily looked through the rooms and found Shamayla in one, still sleeping. She was sleeping on her stomach with one arm hanging over the bed. The blanket that covered her was left most of her back exposed so Hope could see that she was undressed. Hope looked at the ground. Amongst fountain soda cups and junk food wrappers was Shamayla’s bra.
“Wake up.” Hope tugged at her foot. “Wake up!”
Shamayla’s head jerked and she came to, turning her head and squinting in the light to make out Hope’s person.
“What are you doing here?”
Hope walked around the bed and looked at the filthy room.
“You called me last night and told me where you’d be in the morning. What’re you doing here?”
Shamayla groggily sat up and gave herself a moment to get her head together.
“Where have you been all this time, here?”
Shamayla swept the blanket aside and reached down for her bra. She was completely naked with a shiny sparkle between her legs. Hope turned around and faced the window. Shamayla got into her clothes and went into the bathroom. She came back out a moment later pulling her hair up.
“Partying. I deserve it, right?”
“Are you and Justin having problems?”
Shamayla reached in her bag for cigarettes and lit up. She had on no makeup and her eyes glowed against her skin.
“I’m trying to let him go.”
“Why?”
Shamayla made her eyes small at Hope as she took a drag.
“Zefar’s back in Vegas. I know after what Dominic did he left. I know because people I talk to, who know him, like his aunt and cousins. Well they warned me he just got back. If he finds out about Justin, he’ll kill me.”
“He won’t-“
“He’ll kill me,” she said firmly. “And Justin too, or hurt him real bad.” Shamayla hesitated for a moment. “I’m kind of afraid for Dominic.”
“Dominic can take care of himself.”
“You don’t know Zefar.” Shamayla took another drag. “He’s a coward.”
Hope believed her. You never underestimate a coward.
“I haven’t gone home. I haven’t been to work. I’m scheduled tonight but I want you to drive me there early, like right now. I’ll hang out until tonight.”
“Are you sure-“
“Yeah.”
“What about a restraining order?” she asked, following Shamayla out of the house.
“Useless.”
Shamayla stood outside of Hope’s car, looking around for possible spies.
“I met some people I think can help me with Zefar.” Shamayla buckled herself in and with a shaky hand, put her cigarette to her mouth.
“What does that mean?” asked Hope.
“Just that,” Shamayla said. “Hey I need some stuff from Wal-Mart. Will you go for me?”
Hope nodded.
“He doesn’t know where you are, right?”
“Not right now. He won’t come into this neighborhood anyway.” She rubbed cream on her face. “I’m not going back home because he
might know I stay there.”
She knew there was a lot of unexplained stuff going on with Shamayla, and she would explain it later.
31… “Plan” in Motion
Charla and Tristan crouched down behind the fragmented pink brick wall, watching and waiting for Hope or Dominic to come out. Hope’s car was parked in her spot but her apartment appeared dark as if no one was home. Also, Dominic’s truck was there too so the girls thought that maybe they were together. Tristan wanted to back out of this. She was sure she couldn’t stomach seeing them together again.
“I feel like an ass,” Tristan complained.
“His light went off!” Charla whispered back. The girls crouched lower and saw Dominic’s door open. Sure enough, out walked Hope and Dominic behind her. The passed half hour was paying off. Still, Tristan’s eyes watered. It brutally killed her so much to see Dominic interested in someone else, to see another girl make him smile, make him happy.
The girls gasped and sat completely down as Hope and Dominic approached his truck. They were talking but Tristan had no clue what they were talking about. Though their words were clear, Tristan couldn’t make sense of them. It was like trying to fit mismatched puzzles pieces together. She was so muddle headed and up to her throat with grief that nothing made sense. Moments later the truck backed out and rolled off into the darkness.
“Come on,” Charla whispered, helping Tristan to her feet.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Tristan sobbed.
“Why are you crying? Tristan, seriously? You’re going to cry over him? Trust me, he’s not crying over you! He’s over there enjoying himself, happily banging another girl!”
“Stop!” Tristan pulled away from Charla. “I don’t want to hear that!”
Charla looked into her eyes, an idea forming in her head.
“Fine, stay here.”
“Where are you going? Wait!” Tristan wiped her face with her sleeves and jogged after Charla who was hastily heading for the stairs.
“Just wait here, be my look out.”
“I thought we were busting up her car?”
“Change of plans.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Charla and Tristan hurried up the stairs, Charla in the lead. She examined the window next to the door.
“The dumb ass left it open.” Charla reached in her back pocket and slid out a butter spreader. She stuck it between the screen and the window frame, easily popping one corner out.
“I don’t think we should do this anymore!”
Charla removed the entire screen and handed it to Tristan.
“Pop it back in. Go in the corner over there and be my look out.”
“No, I can’t.”
Charla gave her a look like Tristan was confusing her.
“I want to go in too.”
“Fine, wait here. I’m going to climb through the window and unlock the door. Pop the screen back in.” Charla lifted her leg and climbed into the open window, separating the blinds. She tripped over something on the inside of the apartment and fell on her butt.
Tristan turned around and peered down stairs to make sure no one was in sight. No one was so she popped the screen back in, roughly pounding the bottom corner with her palm. She couldn’t quite get it so she left it sticking out. The front door squeaked open and Charla waved her in.
Tristan’s legs felt heavy and every step felt like it was taken in deep water. She was scared, thinking they would surely get caught. She could already see the cops arresting her and Charla.
Charla felt up the wall with her hands and found a switch. The kitchen light went on.
“No!” Tristan quickly switched it off. “Don’t be stupid!”
Tristan turned on her phone and shone the white light. Charla rolled her eyes and held out the mini flashlight that was connected to her keys. They saw a Greta Garbo portrait on one wall and Hope’s bed pushed up against another. As they made their way toward the hall, passing the bed, Tristan couldn’t help thinking that this was the very bed Hope was screwing her boyfriend in. Her stomach churned and she looked away disgusted.
Charla pushed open Hope’s bedroom door, shining her baby flashlight in front of her.
“This bitch is weird. How many people live here?” Charla shone the light around the room. There was no bed or other bedroom furniture. There were paintings and a wooden with an unfinished painting on it.
“She paints,” Charla muttered. “They’re crappy. She sucks at this. I’m sure it’s not the only thing she sucks.”
Tristan’s wide eyes roamed the room through her cell phone light.
“So what now?”
Charla reached for the butter spreader.
“Here, do it.”
“Do what?” Tristan asked looking horrified.
“Shred them!”
“I can’t! We can get in a lot of trouble for this. Let’s just stick with passing out escort ads with her face on them.”
Charla huffed and held up the butter spreader. She jabbed into one of the paintings and ripped through it, dragging the blunt blade into a vertical tear. Tristan was about to tell her to stop but the sound of the thick rips gratified her.
“Let me do one!” She took the butter spreader from Charla and moved onto the next one. She thought of Hope and Dominic together, anger pulsing through her veins. She stabbed at the canvas with elbow strength and then just as Charla had done, roughly split the canvas in two. Charla laughed and clapped, giddily grabbed one of the larger ones and kicked her foot through it multiple times. Tristan was enjoying herself for the first time in weeks. It was so exhilarating to tear through the paintings and the thought that they were of any significance to Hope gave her all the more drive to destroy them.
Charla spotted a stack of them on the opposite side of the wall and flipped through them with the flashlight between her teeth. Then Charla shone the light around the room and spotted Hope’s jumbo box of paints and brushes. When she opened it she found an envelope on top of the markers. A moment later she hurriedly unscrewed the caps on the markers and squeezed the tubes, oozing globs of dark paint all over them.
“Shred these ones too!” She tossed Tristan a stack of paintings.
Tristan didn’t care what they were. In the darkness she stabbed the paintings and destroyed them, laughing with tears of temporary joy rolling down her cheeks. Charla moved on from the paintings and emptied plastic tubes of paint all over the carpet.
“Grab some markers!” She kicked the box toward Tristan who gladly bunched markers in her hands. She took the caps off and scribbled all over the walls.
“Let’s get out of here!” Charla said, hopping over the mutilated portraits. “Take some markers!” The girls then ran out of the room swirling the walls with the tips off the markers. Charla went into the kitchen and wrote WHORE across Hope’s refrigerator.
“Let’s go!” The girls hurried out of the apartment, locking the door behind them. When Charla saw the corner of the screen popping out, she lifted her leg and jammed her foot into it, bending the frame a bit but locking the screen back into its place. The girls hurried down the stairs and hopped into their getaway car. It belonged to Andy, Charla’s nerdy friend.
“Tell me that that shit felt good!” Charla shouted, speeding away from Dominic’s apartment complex.
“Yes!” Tristan dropped her head back against the seat. “It felt sooo good. I just wish I could see her face!”
“Ha! That’s what’s happens when you’re a stupid whore!” The girls howled, taking pride in what they had done.
“I just can’t believe it we did that!” Tristan said in disbelief. “I can’t believe we actually did that.”
“Trust me, she deserves a lot worse. And Dominic is next.”
Tristan lowered her gaze. She didn’t want to hurt Dominic. In fact, she was really missing him and regretted not taking his calls. She reminded herself he probably just wanted to call to tell her he would be there for the baby. He probably didn
’t want to be with her and seeing him with Hope pretty much confirmed it. Still, she’d actually give anything to be in his arms again. If only none of this ever happened…she wished Hope would die.
“We’ll see what happens,” Tristan said quietly, staring out the window. The feel of satisfaction was gone quick and her grief returned, swallowing her whole.
32… Can’t help myself
His alarm went off at 1:30, yanking him out of deep sleep. Through the blurry living room light, Dominic made out his cell phone on the coffee table and pressed buttons till it went silent. He pulled a sweatshirt over his head, grabbed his car keys and locked up on his way out. The night was mildly cool and the drive through the deserted roads was quiet. He drove onto the freeway and into Las Vegas, where the city was lively and popping.
Blinking bulb lights and large TV screen reflections rolled off of his windshield as he drove down Las Vegas Boulevard. He drove passed the flashing animations; one rich flashing hotel &casino after another. He drove out passed the strip and pulled up in front of the Lucky Star, one of a few local casinos that opened up on the mini strip.
Hope was already out front talking to Glenna. When she saw Dominic she told her friend bye and hopped inside of his truck, her thick false lashes still pasted on her eyelids. He leaned in for a kiss and turned the truck around. He turned back onto Las Vegas Boulevard and asked her if she was hungry. They stopped at a quiet Korean restaurant with a handful of diners and enjoyed a quiet meal in a booth. They exchanged few words, mostly flirtatious smiles as she slid her foot up his leg and settled it on his thigh under the table. He started looking into her eyes all intensely, making her warm up from the inside out. He whispered across the table that he couldn’t wait to get her home.
He meant it. He paid more attention to her than to his food. In fact, he didn’t even eat much. He sat back with a little grin on his face, staring at her across the table, undressing her with his eyes. It started with her lips. He watched her mouth intently, when the fork delicately slid in and out of her mouth, how her lips sealed over the silverware. She noticed and put the fork aside, picked up the chop sticks and used those instead. So Dominic looked away from her lips and down at her slightly defined clavicle. It was sparkling with body glitter that covered her entire chest. He licked his lips as his eyes roamed down her chest to the two swells that were half covered with white cotton fabric.