Chapter 4: Quite Contrary

Surfaces crumble when bedrock shifts. Day to day impetus dies. Holding the quotidian, efforts not to fuck up, to become outrageous or insane or illegal or at the least improper loses grip. For instance getting stumbling drunk before heading to work because your best friend found some guy reveals the fragile integrity of a wounded soul.

Three shots of tequila (the others had two), two bottles of Dos Equis (the others had one beer) and secret shots of a fancier tequila while feigning bathroom visits ("I'm a grown girl, I can piss all by myself" she told Marta) had Mary stumbling.

"Fuck," exclaimed Marta when she watched her friend stumble back to the table. "I'll let them know you're sick."

"What are you talking about? I feel fine!"

"Sit. Shit. You're a mess."

"And you're a whore!" shouted Mary.

"Go home, bitch!"

"Fuck you!"

"Joe?"

"GI Joe!"

"I'll take care of her," said Roger.

"Take care of me pretty boy. Take real good care of me!"

"You better not!" said Marta.

"Give me some credit."

"I trust your brother."

"You can trust him. Despite everything, Roger got raised right."

"Thanks Bro."

"Sorry. It's just trusting men..."

"I promise, Marta."

Marta grabbed a pen from her purse and made a map to her apartment on a napkin. "Is that clear?"

"Yep. See you bro."

"See you bro," Mary mimicked sloppily.

"Call me when you got her home," said Joe.

"My cell's out of power."

Joe borrowed Marta's pen and jotted his number down on the back of his business card and handed to his brother.

"Cool," said Roger and held Mary against him as they left the restaurant.

"Take me home, Joe, to your home. I got tonight's outfit there thank god. I don't want to be anywhere near that bitch."

"I have to ask," said Joe nestling with Marta fully clothed in his bed. She had pulled out her cell phone and listened to messages. It took awhile.

"Just a couple minutes. Shit! Shit!"

"What?"

"Just a second." She rolled off the bed and sat at the dining table. "Harry? You said he had plans this weekend! Damnit! I know. Sorry. It'll be just me. Just me. Angelique's ... you know. How about Mona? Bleach blonde Latin with fake tits. Right. Okay. When? Shit. Okay. Okay. I'll be there. I know goddamnit! Jesus!" She hung up.

"Marta?"

"Another minute, Joe. Hey Maria, I need you tomorrow at noon at the Beverly, room 517. Tomorrow meaning Sunday. Call me one way or the other and soon. Five bills baby."

"Marta?"

As soon as she set the phone down she cried. Her head lay in her hands. Her body heaved. "I'm sorry Joe," she whimpered into the table.

"So what Mary called you... ?"

"Yes Joe, I'm a whore," she said with the saddest smile in creation, her head tilted in her hands facing him.

"Why?"

"Good question. A long story. Bottom line I have to."

"Not child support. You've never conceived and you probably make enough dancing. You share an apartment so expenses must be somewhat manageable. The car's fairly pricy but a couple years old and not anything super expensive. You're not a junky. You're no nymphomaniac. What does Harry have to blackmail you?"

"Harry, Freddy, Vinnie, whoever. He's an employee. His boss runs things, a lot of things. You know about Chicago."

"Corrupt as sin."

"Yeah. The guy's got a lot of hands in a lot of pockets. He keeps the machine greased and moving. His soldiers went looking for fresh meat. They offered me, you know, I couldn't refuse. I'm very good at what I do, Joe. Too good. He loved me. I refused the next time. It was my first performance, Joe, and I guess I'm a natural. It's like a dance for me. I choreograph pleasure. I knew what to expect. Other girls I worked with hooked. I don't know whether it was curiosity, but they told me about it. I asked them for every detail. I created a piece, the piece I presented at the showcase. I have a tape."

"I'd love to see it," said Joe.

"Really! After finding out..."

"I'm falling in love with you."

"You're crazy."

"Not until now."

"Me too. I knew I had to tell you. I never wanted to. I couldn't not."

"No you couldn't. So what does the motherfucker have on you?"

"My family. My father's on the city council in Milwaukee. He's trying to do some good there. He hates corruption. My mother's in a similar place. She's a high school teacher and an advisor for the superintendent and found some problems with the way taxes got spent. It's not like they threaten the boss. It's not a concern, Milwaukee, but there's a network and an attitude. So if I don't keep him happy, he threatened to disgrace my parents or worse. He told me having them removed and the blame laid on his equal in Milwaukee could get him a lot more money and power."

"And all those other messages?"

"Referrals and greed. If I wanted I could work 24 hours a day and make a fuck of a lot of money so to speak. I tend to create repeat business. Have you ever had a hooker?"

"I thought you preferred escort."

"Right. A whore by any other name..."

"No I never have."

"Most of them suck at it. They don't know how to please and don't care. Guys get their rocks off but seldom return. It's quick money for unskilled labor. The few with skills tend to become very popular and nine times out of ten they burn out. They get their stake and run like a successful bank robber. Maybe when things get tight again like a robber they might get back in. Then there's the one tenth of one percent. That's Angelique and Mona. They've been at it for years and manage to separate themselves from the work enough to keep going and sustain their prowess."

"Like you?"

"If I hadn't been coerced..."

"I believe you Marling."

"Marling?"

"I ... I guess I compressed Darling and Marta."

"I like it. Can I join you?"

"You never have to ask that."

"Mi casa es su casa," said Marta joining him in bed and snuggling. "Can this work?"

"I hope so."

"I'm scared."

"Of us not working?"

"That too. But ... hold me. Kiss me Joe."

Kissing, a powerful elixir, transformed them, creating a thrill throughout their bodies they never wanted to end. Nothing else mattered. Her juices perfumed the air. His penis tightened his pants. They felt each other's pleasure. Kissing side to side, her legs surrounded his and their bodies twisted enough for their genitals to meet and squeeze. Only the subtlest movement happened. They needed no friction. Their intention wasn't masturbatory. They only wanted closeness. They needed it.

"I have to go," she sighed breathily after the lengthy kiss. "You'll have to take care of this yourself." She patted his groin and with a giggle she grabbed a porno magazine and tossed it on him.

"I'd rather imagine you."

"I'd rather be with you. I can't wait to get to know GI Joe better."

"Are you stopping by after?"

"You know what? Would I be too much of a burden if you dropped me off and picked me up?"

"Marling!" he scolded, getting out of bed and pulling on his leather jacket.

"I have to ask nice."

"Just order me. I'll be your slave."

"No Joe. I know its fun to play. I do that enough at my ... work. Let's just be real like we've been."

"Sorry."

"We'll be playful, but at a whole new level, okay?"

"Sounds like fun. Just a second." He raced to a kitchen drawer, brushed aside clutter and found his spare keys. Handing them to her he explained their purpose. She gave him another explosive kiss.

"So you and Mary..." he began and paused as he drove her in her Miata to Choice.

"What? How we met? Are we lovers?"

"Both I guess."

"We're not, but under definite duress on her part. She prefers women. I don't. We're best friends."

"And she hates me because I'm alienating you from her."