Road to Paradise

by Paullina Simons

  “Emma can’t send me enough money to make the trip alone,” I whispered, too exhausted to cry.

  “So, work,” said Candy, sitting down on the corner of my bed. “Make a little money.”

  “I’m so tired,” Gina said, her eyes closing. She rolled into a ball. “I’ll register for community college in Bakersfield, instead of Geneseo State. We’ll get married. I’ll get my degree in California. I can teach anywhere. As long as I’m close to Eddie, I don’t care what I do.”

  “And how am I supposed to make money, Candy?” I asked. “I’ve never waitressed. The only thing I’ve ever done is clean houses.”

  Candy laughed. “Perfect. So clean some houses. Go to the guy downstairs, his name is Taibo, and ask him if he needs a maid.” Her eyes twinkled in the broken-bulb dark. “Ask him if he wants you to wear one of those cute little maid outfits. I bet he’ll give you more money if you do.”

  That made me sit up on my elbows. “Candy, what are you talking about? How many rooms do you think I’ll need to clean, maid outfit or no before I make enough to drive myself back home?”

  Candy fell next to me on the bed, propped up on her side. Gina was drifting off. She had stopped speaking. “Sloane, you’re supposed to be smart. A planner. Why didn’t you bring enough money for the return trip?”

  “I did, Candycane, oh, I did,” I said, not fighting the bitterness in my voice. “I planned it all out beautifully. Except things happened I didn’t count on. And, by the way, don’t you think your criticism of me is a little misplaced, considering no matter how much money I’d have brought, it all would’ve been taken by the scavengers you let in my backseat?”

  “Shel,” cooed Candy, blinking warmth at me, “don’t you know that a girl, no matter where she is, is never without means to make a buck?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  And then we were quiet.

  I jumped up and went to the bathroom. When I came back, I had to turn away from her before I could lie down next to her, then she spoke again, close to my ear. “Shelby,” she said softly. “You raise your skirt, you get a twenty. You give him a blowjob, thirty. A blowjob with an upskirt, fifty. Ten minutes, and you’ve got fifty bucks. That’s $300 an hour. Two hundred and fifty if you’re dogging it. What else are you going to do in your young life to make $250 an hour?”

  I nearly fell out of bed. “Are you crazy?” I hissed. “You are. You are crazy! What are you talking about? I’m not giving a blowjob—to who?”

  “To the guy whose rooms you were about to clean for five bucks an hour, plus a dollar tip.”

  “Candy!”

  “Shelby.”

  Oh my God. That’s why she liked bars and grills and clubs, the dark places where men drank. She knew. She was drawn to them like a fly to a flame because she knew they were drawn to her like flies to a flame. They knew.

  “Is that what you’ve been doing all along?”

  “What did you think?”

  “What did I think? I thought you were like us!”

  She laughed softly. “The Jackson state trooper was off the clock. He was just a sweetie pie. But . . . you’re so funny.”

  “No.”

  “You’re in Reno now,” Candy continued. “Where there’s gambling, all other vices follow. All other vices. Where men gamble, they drink, and where they drink, there are women, ready to separate them from their money. Think of it this way—the house gets fifty-one percent. We get the other forty-nine percent. That’s a lot of cash. Give yourself two days. Freelance. You’ll make plenty.”

  “Candy, I’m not talking about this with you another second.”

  “Fine.”

  “Is that how much you make?”

  “No. I make more. Because I give full service, I offer a larger menu.”

  “I will never do what you’re suggesting. Never.”

  “Never’s a long time, Sloane.”

  “Answer’s still never. God!”

  “Tell me,” she said, “that little fun night in Indiana you and Gina had when you gave it up to complete strangers, and all you got out of it was a free drink. You feel that was a fair exchange? You wouldn’t have cared they didn’t say hello to you in broad daylight if you’d taken their money.”

  “Candy, I’m not listening to this! Is that why you wouldn’t have cared?”

  “Right.”

  “I thought you said you’ve left all that far behind?”

  “No. I said, I don’t do it if I can help it.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I’m going to tell you a joke,” she said, “and then I have to go. Because unlike you, lounging about, I have to go work. Someone’s got to go out and earn a living. I can’t just sit on my hands like you and your friend over there.”

  “Is that why you came to Reno?” I gasped.

  “Why else?” She winked at me. “Now. A man comes up to a pretty girl and says, ‘If I give you a million dollars, would you kiss me?’ And the girl smiles and says of course. He says, ‘All right, now kiss me for ten cents.’ She slaps him, and says, ‘What kind of a girl do you think I am?’ and he replies, ‘Oh, we’ve already established what kind of girl you are. Now we’re just haggling about the price.’ ”

  The joke took the heart out of me. But she leaned over, kissed me on the lips, laughed, and hopping off the bed, went to wash, change, get ready. I lay and waited for her to be done, gone. She was crazy. Lifting her skirt to her thighs, for everyone, oh God, what in the world was she thinking? I had been worried about her, but clearly, I had not been worried enough. I had thought Erv forced her into the worst of it, into impossible things, but there was no Erv here. What kind of life could she live with her baby anywhere, if this is how she was planning to conduct her days?

  Candy came out of the bathroom. She looked so young and pretty. Her soft brown eyes were shining, her lips slicked with ruby-red gloss, and she’d teased her bleached hair into meringue-like spikes. A sexy miniskirt skimmed the tops of her slender, smooth bare legs and her cheap, blue costume jewelry chimed with her every movement. She sat on the edge of the bed, smelling of soap and musk. “The last movie Erv made with me, he tied me to a tree in the woods upside down and tortured me. He was making a porn S&M underage video because that’s where all the money was, and is. It sounds awful, I know, and it wasn’t pleasant, but four hours and it was over. He paid me three thousand dollars for four hours of work, plus two reshoots. I thought that wasn’t a bad deal.”

  “Not a bad deal? And where’s that money now?”

  “Gone. But if I don’t go and work, it will be gone forever. Come with me.”

  “No.”

  “If you come with me, you won’t have to touch a man if you don’t want to. You can just touch me. For this you and I will make more money in two hours than if you were giving six blowjobs an hour with upskirt for two days straight. We could make enough money in two nights for your ride back home in a limo and hire Jeeves to drive your ’Stang to Harvard. Your choice.”

  “Out of the question is what it is.”

  “Nothing is impossible. Only after death are things impossible.”

  “What you’re proposing is impossible.”

  “To touch a girl or to touch her for money?”

  I moved slightly away from her on the bed. “To touch her for money,” I whispered.

  Candy smiled, reaching for me, her hands on my hips, on my ribs. “Come on, Sloane. Come with me.” She hugged me, ruffled my hair.

  I hugged her back. “Never in a million years.”

  “Have it your way.” She got up, glancing over at Gina. “Bet she’d go if I asked.”

  “Wake her up and ask. I’d pay to see that.”

  “See—even you’d pay to see that.”

  “Stop it. Go.”

  “I’m not giving you any of my money.”

  “Oh, yes, you are. You’re the reason I have no money!”

  Candy got up to go. When she was at the door, I called out to her. “Candy
, give Erv back his movie. Save your life, give him what he wants and run. You know he’s only chasing you because he’s scared.”

  She shook her head. “He’s chasing me because that movie is his dinner. But I’m running because that movie is my life. I just have to outrun him. But I can’t do that without money. And this is the only thing I know how to do. Except make caskets.”

  “Is there much call for that in Reno?” I muttered. Yes, she said, people die, even in Reno, then she grinned and added, “But not as often as they like to get laid.” She left me then, left me to my miserable midnight thoughts, my wretched reelings from her revelations, my shame at myself, my false pride. All of this was in the Motel motel with me, under the grimy bedspread in a room smelling of old wet towels, where Gina softly snored under the broken air conditioning. Candy closed the door behind her, but where was she going? The strip was miles south; how would she get there? I couldn’t imagine how Lena and Yuri’s mortal sin made Candy feel. I know how it made me feel. My arms were over my face.

  I couldn’t begin to deal with the stark reality of it—they had taken all our money, and I hadn’t even gotten to California yet. I still had my car, but no money to put gas in it, no money for motels, or food, or Cokes. Gina had no money. She might not even have a quarter to call Eddie. She’d have to call him collect. I know how he felt about that.

  I waited for Candy, but I could have gone to hell and back before she returned. I wanted it to be morning. I wanted this to be over. All of it. I wished I’d never left Larchmont. I would trade every moment on the road to be back there. There was nothing the road had shown me that I wanted to see.

  Except for the empty tabernacle and the song of the monks. Here, songs grew up around me like a jungle.

  Except for the trill of the voice of the laughing girl who had absolutely no reason in the world to skip, to feel joy, to laugh—and yet did.

  I struggled to stay awake. I fought my exhaustion and insane anxiety. I scratched my chest from worry, and tried not to think the unthinkable: That fucking woman took all my money. Oh God, what am I going to do? I rolled around in bed, I put all the pillows over my head to deafen the noise, the calamitous hammering. I waited and waited for her, waited for dawn, to do something, to say something to someone and, while waiting like this, fell into unconsciousness.

  When I opened my eyes, it was light. Gina was in the bathroom, and Candy was lying next to me, naked, damp from the shower, sleeping. The shower stopped; I pushed Candy until she woke up.

  “How’d you do?”

  She smiled, her eyes remaining closed. “Leave me alone, I came in like six.”

  “But it’s 9:30.”

  “A girl’s gotta sleep.”

  “How much?”

  “A few hours.”

  “No. How much.”

  “Oh. Seven hundred bucks.”

  I tried to whistle.

  “I knew you’d be impressed. It wasn’t as easy as I expected. Lots of competition. Imagine—I wasn’t the only one trying to work. Half of it came from a man who wanted me to sit next to him while he played poker.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all. Well, that is, until the end, when he made me give him a handjob in front of his wife who was wearing flannel pajamas and foil hair curlers.” She giggled, and drifted off once more.

  Gina came out of the bathroom, dressed, coldly eyeing us both. “Are we checking out? Because I’m going to walk, try to find a Western Union office.”

  “Check out and go where? The Western Union office? Do they have beds there? A shower? Rides to Bakersfield? You can check out if you want,” muttered Candy, sleepily. “I paid for one more night.”

  I got up. “Cand, you sleep. Gina, I’ll come with you. I’ll call Emma.”

  Candy turned away from us on her side. “Nothing works out as we plan it,” she said. “Nothing.”

  She was so right, this could have been a premonition. At the first phone booth we found, half a mile down the road where the racket from the traffic was not too great, Gina called her mother. Turned out, her mother, father, and sister were in Hawaii. Who knew—a vacation in the summer. Her grandmother, who told her this, had no money to give. Scottie’s small social security check had been spent. I couldn’t believe it. The billboard right above my head said, “BORED? I HAVE A BOOK FOR YOU.”

  I wished I could fall temporarily blind before I called Emma so I wouldn’t see the reflection of myself dialing the phone. The only money the three of us had was Candy’s, and I flushed hot from shame as I dialed, sharp-as-a-razor me finally realizing that all the burgers from Mickey D’s, many of the hotel rooms, breakfast, gum, and a third of the gas, were bought on Candy’s back. She traded her body for gas, and I closed my eyes as I pumped, didn’t care, didn’t want to think about it, and I certainly didn’t want to think about it now.

  Emma was hard, disappointed in me. She didn’t know what to say except, “Shelby, I bought you a car. I gave you extra money for the road. Come fall, I will have to give you for college, no? Maybe for books, supplies? My income is static, I’m not getting extra tips because you’re across the country. You’re calling me from Reno? Did you gamble away your money, and that’s why you now need more?”

  “Emma . . .” I too didn’t know what to say. “We were robbed.”

  “You picked up hitchhikers?”

  “A mother and her son.”

  “What a ruse. What a con. I don’t know what to do. Shel, I don’t have enough to give you for all the way back home. Have you at least been to Mendocino?”

  I didn’t speak. I wanted to say I wouldn’t go if that would make it easier, but didn’t. Couldn’t.

  “Oh, Shelby. Where do I get that kind of money?”

  “I’m sorry, Emma,” I whispered.

  She made low noises on the phone, helpless noises of an adult who wishes she can wash her hands, wishes it desperately and grinds her teeth raw with her desire. “Let me go to the bank,” she finally said. “I’ll see if they’ll increase my overdraft. Mine’s full. I’ll give you whatever they give me.”

  “I’ll pay you back,” I said; a lame perspiring fool. “I promise.”

  “Oh, Shelby,” said Emma, and I felt even more ashamed. Yes, in some distant future, one I couldn’t imagine, and one she didn’t care about, I might give her back a few hundred bucks. What was that to her when her overdraft was full now?

  I hung up and couldn’t face Gina.

  “Is she going to wire you the money?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “She doesn’t have any. Is your grandmother going to wire you the money?”

  “No.” Gina frowned. “She doesn’t have any.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Come on!” She started walking toward the road. “My grandmother doesn’t work.”

  “And my Emma works like an indentured servant,” I said loudly. “Eighty hours a week.”

  She continued to walk without turning around. “Are you coming?” she called.

  “In a minute. I’m going to make one more call.”

  “I’m gonna be at the pool,” she said. “I’ve got no other plans.”

  I waited for five minutes until she was gone. Then another ten to get my courage up. When I realized no courage was forthcoming, and my heart was ready for a coronary, I picked up the phone and called Eddie collect.

  2

  Balefire

  The operator said, “Will you accept a call from—Shelby Sloane?” You could almost hear the stunned exhale. “Yes,” he said. His voice was just as I remembered and my heart hurt to hear it. “Hey,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, yes,” I said. “Hey. Everything’s fine. Well, actually, it’s not really fine.”

  “Is Gina okay?” There was quick concern in his voice.

  Mine became colder in response. The heart beat a little slower. “Yes, she’s fine. But . . .” What was I thinking? “Eddie, we need your help. We were robbed.”

&nbs
p; “You was what?”

  “Robbed. A woman took all our money, and now we’re really broke.”

  “What woman?”

  I told him. Reno is in a valley, and behind every gas station the snow peaks of the Sierra Madre mountains rise. I noticed how large they were, how good the air smelled. Dry. Clean. How could there be snow if the temperature was a hundred degrees? Dog days indeed.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “Reno.”

  “You’re broke in Reno?” He softly laughed. “There is no justice in the world.”

  “None.” If there was justice, I would not be standing here like an idiot at a dusty, rusted phone booth, calling him under all kinds of pretenses, wanting nothing but to hear his voice.

  “So what’s Gina gonna do?” He paused. “What are you going to do? Don’t you two still have to drive twenty-five hundred miles back home?”

  “Yeah. We’re in a bit of a pickle.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “Which is why I’m calling. Eddie . . .” I hemmed. “Can you help us?”

  “I got no money, if that’s what you mean,” he said quickly. “I’m between jobs at the moment. Just got fired from Long John Silver.”

  “No, I understand.” Money would’ve been nice. Is that what I was doing? Begging my old lover for a handout? “Maybe you could come here, meet Gina? She’s come all this way to be with you, and now we’re all out. If you came to get her, she’d feel a whole lot better. I’m calling for her, really.”

  “Is that why you’re calling?”

  I stammered. “Yes.”

  There was silence on the phone. “You see, Shel,” said Eddie, “problem is, I ain’t got insurance for my car, and until I get a job, I can’t pay to have it reinstated. I don’t got any gas. And Bakersfield to Reno, that’s probably two, three hundred miles, no?”

  A sigh of heartache left my chest. “More like four hundred.”

  “Four hundred!” he exclaimed. “How am I going to do that? I mean, if Gina could pay for the gas, then that might work.”

  “If Gina could pay for the gas,” I said, “I’d just drive her to Bakersfield as I planned.”