Because she’s got a great body. You can see it without having to show it off. She’s got a really classy way about her.
Brynn snorted. Right. That bass-fishing shirt is classy as hell.
My muscles loosened until my shoulders drooped and my head dropped down onto my knees. I’m so classy that I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.
You’re such a little bitch. Brynn cupped her hand and sent a tidal wave of water down my front. The next scoop went over me and landed on her mother and Gideon. He woke abruptly and started wailing.
For God’s sake, Brynn. Marsha stood up, half her sarong dangling off her arm, while Gideon struggled and rubbed his eyes. The back of his head was sweaty and wet. Take him inside and give him a Coke.
Brynn groaned and stood up, shaking water onto me like a wet dog. She took Gideon from her mother, staggering under his weight. His legs hung down around either side of her body, nearly dragging to her knees. This kid’s about to pull my top off, Christ Jesus almighty.
Brynn kicked the trailer door open with her foot when it jammed in the frame. It slammed closed behind her.
Marsha went back to playing with my hair. I could feel her separating the strands, braiding them loosely, letting them fall down again before she picked them back up to start over.
You’re getting a little pink. Marsha ticked a fingertip against the shell of my ear. You need some sunscreen.
The chair creaked as she got up again and went into the house. She came back with a brown plastic bottle that smelled like coconuts and pineapple. She dabbed a little where she’d touched before, smoothing it down and around until my whole ear was covered.
Working at the store this summer?
Yeah. Gonna skin some deer mounts tonight. My dad’s gonna show me how to set the eyes. Last one I did ended up cross-eyed.
I relaxed again into her strokes, and the scent of the lotion filled my nose. She pinned my hair at the top of my head and began working on my neck, which was so tense it felt gristly and only half-human.
When she bent low to talk, the smell of her cigarette still clung to her breath. I breathed in and out, coconut and cigarette, cigarette and pineapple.
You’re so knotted up. Her hands worked lower, dipping down into the neck of my shirt, fingers feathering across either side of my spine, sliding under my bra straps until they hung limply from either shoulder.
It’s from sewing. I have to use the tiniest stitches. Dad makes me redo them most of the time.
Hands smoothed over my shoulders, fingers dipping into the valleys of my clavicle. My nipples hardened as her hands lowered incrementally. Breath shored in my lungs.
Your skin’s like a baby. Smoothing, down, farther down, until the tip of one finger rubbed against the edge of my areola. How are you so soft?
There was a loud, drawn-out honk. Marsha’s hands left and I stayed in the same position, simultaneously hopeful and scared that she’d put them back. Wondering what would slow the steady, awful pounding in my chest. Even my eyeballs felt like they had a heartbeat.
The man who’d been working on his truck waved over at Brynn’s mother. He had a bandana shoved into his back pocket. When he turned around, it looked like a wagging of tail feathers, a bird showing off plumage.
Come take a look at this. His shirt rode up, revealing a lot of his tanned back. Marsha got up right away, leaning on my shoulder to balance as she slipped on her wedges. I stared at her toes, covered in dirt and stray bits of weedy dead grass.
She padded down the dirt driveway, sarong flaring out wide and bright behind her, ass swaying side to side as she made her way across the street. The rhinestones sewn into the fabric spit with light. I was thirsty all of a sudden. I picked up the hose and drank the rubbery, cold water until my stomach felt full enough to burst.
Fucking finally. Brynn stomped back down from the trailer and sat with a splash in the water next to me. She flopped her legs over mine, sticky with coconut lotion. Some of it slicked off into the water, leaving iridescent rings like an oil spill. Can we eat dinner at your house tonight? I know my mom’s gonna try and talk me into watching this kid, and we ate all the good stuff. She won’t get anything else until her next paycheck.
Marsha laughed at something the man said, her voice trilling up high and sharp, almost screeching when he reached out and dug a finger into her side.
I’m working the mounts tonight.
Please. I’ll just stay at your house and we can hang out when you’re done. I’ll play cards with your mom and Milo or something. Anything’s better than this.
We both stared at her mother, who was leaning hard over the open guts of the truck. One sandal dangled from a lifted foot.
I guess. Lemme call my mom first.
Brynn shot up out of the water and shook until water sprinkled down my neck. Nah, let’s just go. She’s gonna wind up hanging out with that guy tonight and I can’t deal with it. Let ’em just come over here.
Vacating the pool, we both stomped our feet clean, leaving it half full of mucky water. Inside, I changed into one of Brynn’s shirts, too tight and small, but at least dry. It was pink with a rainbow across the front; a bright blue surfing wave said ALOHA over the bust.
We collected our bikes from where they leaned next to a tiny, rusted-out shed. I felt too hot and kind of sick, as if my skin were too tight for my body. We climbed on and pedaled through the sloppy front yard, weeds high up in our spokes, tires dipping down into the wet earth.
Marsha saw us when we finally hit the pavement. She yelled, waving her arms over her head, jogging after us. The sarong was a bright flag behind her.
Hurry up, Brynn said, standing up and pedaling hard.
Once we turned the corner out of the trailer park subdivision, I couldn’t hear Marsha anymore.
Brynn laughed, and the sound floated back to me. Please kill me if I’m ever like that, she yelled. Her hair stuck out wildly behind her, crunchy from leftover hair spray. She wore her mother’s mirrored sunglasses. They perched on the end of her nose and flashed in the sunlight.
8
Lolee rode between the prone bodies of the peacocks in the back of the truck. There was something feral about her, teeth gleaming in the hard bright light from the streetlamps, a yellow glow bouncing off her skin. Her canines seemed too sharp in her tiny elfin face. When she smacked her open palm against the back window to get my attention, I flinched and turned around to face front. Pretended like I didn’t hear her howling and thumping around like a wild animal.
Despite the fact that my licenseless nephew was behind the wheel, I cracked open the last beer before we even turned onto the street in front of the shop. Bastien parked at the entrance, hopping out to lift Lolee from the back. They let down the tail, each of them grabbing a bird. I knew they expected me to get the third, the largest one, but I busied myself with the keys and let myself inside. The glow from outside gave me just enough light to see my shadow running ahead of me down the hall.
The usual burnished warmth of beer flooding my veins wasn’t able to keep up with the horror of murdering three peacocks in cold blood. I sat down on the toilet in the rear of the shop, not even bothering to close the door. Bastien strutted past, then Lolee, staggering a bit under the weight of her bird. I peed, the sound a loud rush, and closed my eyes, able only to focus on emptying my bladder.
“How many other animals have you killed this way?” I asked, reaching around in the dark for the toilet paper.