Chapter Two - Maddie
After story time is over, we mingle a little. Raven moves quietly into, and between, the small groups of people talking in hushed voices. She touches them all—a gentle hand on the arm or shoulder, a small smile.
She brushes a piece of hair away from Raquel’s face and it drags a tear along her cheek, which smudges her makeup and leaves a trail of evidence. Raquel cries softly, her uncertain eyes darting anywhere, everywhere, but directly at Raven. Like she’s embarrassed.
Raven comforts her. Refuses to walk away until they are face to face, and Raquel is nodding her head, and looking her in the eyes, and using the tissue handed to her to dab at her cheeks.
They hold hands the ways girls hold hands. All ten fingertips fitting into other fingertips like a puzzle. And for some reason it reminds me of Girl Scouts. When you made a pledge to your troop buddy. You held her hands that way, and you swung your arms a little, like it was a game, and chanted something simple and pretty about promises and friendship to her.
I watch from across the room. Mesmerized.
I know every woman here. Which is… surprising, I guess. But not.
Kinda like everything else about this day.
I mean, I was the morning manager at Pete’s. Only for a few weeks, but basically, Pete’s was my life. Was really the only thing I had. Yeah, Tyler was there, but he was something to be avoided and Pete’s was where I went to avoid him. Where I went to avoid the past. And the present. And probably the future, too, if I’m being honest.
Pete’s gave me direction. Pete’s gave me purpose. Pete’s was a place I could count on.
And now there’s no place for me there. Words straight out of Raven’s mouth.
I’m not sad about retiring as a stripper. That would be dumb.
But I lost something more than I can quantify in that fire. More than a sense of purpose.
I lost… I dunno. Something akin to family, but not. Because family is just something you have, or don’t. And the people at Pete’s are… friends.
I had Annie. But I never put a lot of effort into Annie. Same for Caroline and Diane. They were just there. I never felt needed by them. I paid my rent, we sometimes ate and drank together. We tanned out by the pool and pretended we were living the dream.
But that wasn’t real. This, these people, these women who take off their clothes every night and pretend to love their jobs for the sake of their sanity—this is reality.
Cold. Hard. Truth.
I love them all in some weird way I’ve never felt before.
Which is curious. That this room, filled with dozens of women just as messed up as I am, is what really matters to me these days. Their daycare bills, their boyfriend problems, the past they’re all running from. It matters to me.
And I wonder if I’ll be letting them down when I’m not in their life anymore. Will they miss me the way I’ll miss them? Who will settle shoe disputes? Who will put them on the schedule? Who will listen with a sympathetic ear when they have to beg for more stage time so they can make the rent?
Clearly, there will be someone.
Right?
Raven will be there.
Maybe I’m just worried that they won’t miss me. They don’t need me. Never did need me. I’m just another person in their life with a little bit of power to make it easier and none of it was about family, or friendship, or…
“Mads,” Tyler says, placing his hand on my elbow to direct me over to the kitchen island where there’s drinks and food laid out. “You should eat something. Want some crackers?”
I look up at him through a blurry haze and realize I’m crying. And even though there’s a lot of reasons to cry right now, I don’t even know why I’m crying. Is it Pete? Sure. It’s Pete. Is it Carolina? Yeah, I think so. Is it Raven, who isn’t the person I thought she was? That too.
It’s all of it.
It’s Carlos, and Logan, and Ricky, and the Mexican compound, and the debt, and the drone, and my parents, and Scotty, and Jeff, and the funeral, and the wake, and how the past is so fucked up and the present looks pretty bad too. And the future? Jesus fucking Christ, what future?
“Here,” Tyler says, handing me a cracker. There’s some fancy topping on it. Chopped-up cucumbers and mayonnaise with sprinkles of paprika. I eat it, because that’s just what you do with a cracker. And it’s delicious. Did I ever doubt Raven would serve anything but delicious finger food at Pete’s wake?
“Mads,” Tyler says, bending down a little to look me in the eyes. “Are you OK?”
I nod my head, sniffling as I wipe away the tears. No fucks to give about the makeup I just smeared across my cheeks. But in my head I say, No. I’m not OK. Not yet. But I will be.
I’m not entirely sure what I mean by that. I have an idea. But it’s vague. It involves a lot of anger, and hate, and violence.
“Maddie,” Tyler says, trying again. Because clearly I am not OK. And that stupid nod wasn’t enough to convince him. Can’t get anything past Tyler Morgan. “Should we leave?”
“Leave?” I almost laugh. “I don’t ever want to leave. I want to stay here forever.”
He nods back at me. Slowly, like a hostage negotiator dealing with unreasonable demands. He opens his mouth to say something back, but he’s interrupted by silverware clanging on crystal.
We redirect our attention from each other to Raven, who is standing in front of her fireplace, glass and spoon in hand, like she’s gonna give a speech.
Which she does. And soon, every woman in the room is crying. Because Pete was one of the good ones and we all knew it. Felt it, at least. And now he’s gone, and our lives have been upturned, sure, but we’re not lamenting the loss of our jobs, not really. Because Pete’s was more than a job. And we all knew that too.
Raven doesn’t elaborate on her plans for rebuilding. Or talk about Carlos or Logan or anything like that. It’s just the good stuff.
Everyone takes a turn telling a story about Pete. We collectively stop crying and start smiling. Some of the stories even make us laugh. Leave it to Raven to fix an entire room of lost women in under ten minutes.
I think that might be her superpower.
Soon, everyone has told a story but me. And even though they all know I didn’t tell one, they don’t look at me expectantly. There’s no uncomfortable silence. It’s like… it’s like they understand I can’t do it right now. Even though every single one of them managed, I’m not able to manage.
The crowd breaks up after that. A few people leave. Tyler and I stand there, silent. So many things to say, unable to say them. And finally he takes my arm at the elbow again and says, “Let’s say goodbye,” as he leads me over to Raven.
I hug her tighter than I probably should, unable to say what I want to say, but the squeezing makes her understand. She pulls away and smiles. It’s the smile of a champion, I realize. A winner. Someone who knows things, has been through things, understands things. “Call me, OK? You’ve got my number?”
I nod, dumbly. I didn’t, before the fire, I mean. But I do now. Because she’s been texting me the past few days. Checking up on me, maybe?
Which makes me start to cry again.
“It’s OK,” she says, wiping that tear from my face. “It’s gonna be OK.”
Tyler says a few words to her. Thank yous and stuff like that. And then he leads me out of her house and down the street to where we parked. He opens my door, waits for me to get in, then closes it softly and walks around to the driver’s side.
In those few moments, something changes. The Devil pops up on my shoulder and I think it’s just… his presence. Knowing he’s still with me. I think that’s what changes.
We good? he asks.
Yup. We good.
The driver’s side door closing makes Devil disappear and I take a deep, deep breath as Tyler starts the engine.
“So,” Tyler says, pulling away from the curb.
“So this is how it’s gonna go,” I say.
“What?” Tyler glances at me as he turns right onto a main street.
“We’re gonna kill that motherfucker.”
“What?”
“I mean, he deserves so much worse than death, but I’m just not sure I have it in me to torture a man. But if that moment comes, you know, when we’ve got him? And he’s begging for his life? I might. Yeah,” I say, almost talking to myself. “I might be able to like… pull his fingernails off with a pair of needle-nose pliers, ya know? So we won’t rule it out.”
“Maddie, we’re not killing Carlos.” Tyler says this like it’s normal to consider it. Which I take as a good sign.
“Not Carlos, Ty. Logan. Carlos… I haven’t decided what I want to do with him yet. I mean, there’s so many options. And the devil has my back, so I’m pretty sure he’s gonna come up with something pretty cool.”
Tyler huffs out something that might be a laugh, but might not. Might be one of those noises one makes when the person riding in the car next to them has gone off the edge and they have no good comeback for the insanity she’s spewing.
But I don’t mind. Or take it personally. Because Tyler hasn’t really seen me yet. I’m sure on some level he still thinks I’m that innocent teenager he left behind when he went off to war. He still thinks I’m good, and pure, and sweet. Even though he should know better.
Because I’m not. I haven’t been that girl for a very long time. Even though I’ve been holding onto that image of myself for years, it’s gone. In fact, I’m not sure I was ever the girl next door. I was never the angel.
But it’s not his fault he doesn’t know. I’ve come to understand that I hide it well, ya know? I’m just really good at that.
His moment of reflective silence gives me an opportunity to elaborate. “Look,” I say, turning in the seat to see him better. My tears are gone. I’m sure I look a mess, but the sadness stayed behind at Raven’s house. I’m a different person right now. “I’m not gonna say something stupid like this is all my fault. It’s not. And I’m not gonna try to sell you on the idea that this is just about Pete, either. Or Jeff. Or Scotty.”
Tyler raises one eyebrow at me.
“It’s not. This is called payback, Tyler.” I kinda seethe the word. It comes off angry because it is.
Tyler sighs. “No. This was about Pete and Carlos, Maddie. Not you.”
“Bullshit,” I say. “Carlos found me online. How?”
“Whattayou mean? He has a computer? He knows how to use Google?”
“No,” I say, louder than I should. “No. Look, Raven’s story about the bad blood between Pete and Carlos… That’s the whole point. Carlos found me, Tyler. First. I didn’t take the job at Pete’s until after the wedding stuff went sideways.”
“OK. So? That doesn’t… You’re not making any sense.”
“You don’t get it. Listen. I was at the drone store—”
Tyler’s laugh is so loud, it startles me. “Drone store? The good old drone-porium?”
“Fine. It was a warehouse. But whatever. Warehouse. Store. Same thing.”
“Uh-huh. And who runs this ‘drone store’?”
I think back, trying to remember the guy’s name. “Slade?” I say. “Slate? Slayer? I’m not really sure. Something like that. He was one of those mumblers, ya know? Kinda slow, with a drawl. Not Southern, but… redneck, maybe?”
“OK.” He sighs. “So you’re buying a drone for the real estate stuff—”
“No. For the wedding planner class I took. That’s the point.” I say it like, Duh.
He shakes his head, like he’s trying to wrap his mind around my totally logical explanation. “Wait. No. What? No. I thought you bought it for real estate.”
“No. I started thinking about it for the wedding stuff, but then that went south with Carlos and shit, and then later I thought I’d do something cool for tourists on the Strip, right? Like chronicle their crazy drunken adventures. But the drone laws are pretty strict, OK? So that wasn’t a good idea. And I was just randomly wasting time one day looking for my dream house on Zillow and… voilà. Real estate was the answer.”
He pulls the car over by the curb, stops, pulls up on the e-brake. He blinks at me. Three times. Slowly, like this makes no sense, even though it does. “Ok, I’m sorry, I think maybe I need to focus. So let me get this straight. You took a wedding planner class, which gave you the idea for a drone to make videos of weddings.”
“Yes.”
“And then you went to find a drone at a drone warehouse where some hillbilly called Slayer was running the joint.”
“Well, it might’ve been Slate. Or Slade. But yes.”
“Super. Then you bought a drone, and—”
“No! That’s the thing. I didn’t have the money for a twelve-thousand-dollar drone back then. I was broke. I didn’t get the money until after I was working for Pete.”
Tyler sighs. Pinches the bridge of his nose. “So when did you buy the drone?”
“After I started at Pete’s. I just told you that. Jesus. I went in—”
“Was Slate there?”
“Coulda been Slayer, or Slade, but no. Some other guy. And I told him I’d been there before looking at the 900XZ, and I wanted it. Oh, and I had cash, because these guys only dealt in cash.”
Tyler blinks again. Twice this time. “So you bought a stolen military drone?”
“It was not stolen!”
Tyler sighs. Longer and louder than before.
“It wasn’t stolen. I have a warranty, OK? I registered it and everything. These guys were legit.”
“Terrific. So—”
“Hey! I’m serious. I got a warranty. They had to register it to me before they sold it. It was like a big fucking deal, too. Took them forever and they had to call a bunch of people and… I’m telling you, it was legit! I am not stupid, OK?”
“OK, OK. Jesus. So, fuck, I’m—I’m just trying to understand what this has to do with Carlos and Pete.”
It feels like I’m talking to myself. “The first time when I went in and talked to Slater—"
“Slater?”
“Whoever. And I didn’t have the money, and I didn’t know how I was gonna get it, there was a flyer for Pete’s on the table.”
“A flyer?” he says.
“Yes!”
“For strippers?”
“Yeah, it was like… a help wanted ad. Maybe not really a flyer. It was like a call for strippers.”
“So… You’re saying that… Pete’s Strip Club was looking for potential strippers at the drone store?”
“Yes! That’s what I’m saying!” I push him on the shoulder. He’s finally getting it.
He puts his hands together like he’s praying, interlocking his knuckles until they turn white. “OK. Like, seriously, I don’t—"
“My point is… I took the job at Pete’s after the wedding thing went weird. That’s all I’m saying. So Raven’s story, good as it is, doesn’t really add up, does it? I mean, I already knew Carlos when I took the job at Pete’s. See what I’m saying?”
He takes a slow breath like he’s trying not to yell or something. “So, OK, lemme work out what I think you’re saying. You’re saying… that, like, somehow Carlos steered you to the ‘drone store,’ knowing that he was going to demand his money back for having to cancel the wedding, but that you wouldn’t be able to pay him, and so he… planted a flyer there for Pete’s, knowing that you would then have to go become a stripper at the club of his old archnemesis and that that would eventually lead him to burn the place down? Is that basically what you’re saying? Because that is basically what you’re saying.”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
“So did you know Logan at the time?”
Where did that come from? “Logan? No,” I say. “No, I don’t think I saw him until the night—”
“The night you flashed him your pussy?” Tyler adds.
I narrow my eyes. “Really? You want to do this now?”
He gives me this look that says quite clearly that yes, he does indeed want to do this now. But he’s gonna be patient and leave that fight for later. And I’m sure he’s feeling magnanimous about that very adult decision he just made, but I’m thinking he’d be very stupid to call me out on flashing Logan right now. Because I’d go all redheaded devil on him.
But I, like him, know when it’s time to adult, so I do that. “I’m just saying that it’s all too coincidental to be a coincidence. Y’know?”
He looks at me like he’s not so sure. “I thought we all agreed that sometimes things just happen. You, me, your shitty shrink, all of us. We all agree that everything doesn’t always have a deeper meaning.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure that does it for me anymore. OK? I don’t wanna believe that I’m just floating along and shit happens or it doesn’t and it’s got nothing to do with me. I can’t fucking believe that anymore. I just can’t.”
He reaches across and strokes my cheek.
“I can’t,” I say again.
“OK,” he says, “I get it. Look, let’s just go back to your place and forget about drones, and Slayers, and everything for now, OK?”
I sigh. Leaning back into my seat. Because this has been a pretty fucked-up day. And say, “Yeah, sounds good to me.”
By the time we get back to my house it’s almost dark. Caroline and Diane aren’t home, both cars are gone, so they must be at work early tonight. But that’s OK. Just means Tyler and I can have the place to ourselves.
When we get inside I reach for the lights, but Tyler’s hand on mine stops me.
“Leave ’em off,” he says, pulling me into his chest. “Let’s just go straight to bed.”
I lean up on my tiptoes, kiss his mouth, and whisper back, “Sounds perfect,” as I reach down and grab his cock. He’s hard. When isn’t he hard?
But when I try to pull away, he doesn’t let go. His hands come up to my face, palms on my cheeks, and he kisses me back. It’s a long kiss. A nice kiss. But there are a lot of promises in that kiss too.
He reaches up under the tulle of my dress and rubs his hand along the inside of my thigh, his cool fingertips tracing the edge of my panties, making me shudder.
I kiss him harder. Needing him tonight. So glad he’s here. He backs me up, pushing me in the direction of my bedroom, ready to make good on his bed idea…
When the doorbell rings.
We break apart, both of us staring at the door. There’s a small window, through which we can see the top of a head. Dark hair. Probably male.
“Who the fuck is that?” Tyler asks.
“I dunno,” I say, breaking away to go see.
But Tyler pulls me back, says, “Stay here,” pointing a finger down at the floor, and walks over to the door and peeks out the window.
“Oh, motherfucker,” he says, more to himself than me. “You’ve miscalculated badly if you think you’re gonna start shit today.”
He pulls the door open, and I have a second to recognize Other-Guy Ricky Ramirez on the other side of the stoop just before Tyler’s fist crashes into his face.