Page 2 of Dirty Roulette
I take a long hit until my lungs sizzle and cough up a puff of smoke.
“Yeah, if we sleep with one of the seniors and film it,” I argue.
Charlie snatches the joint, bats her thick eyelashes and whispers, “Come on, have a little fun with me tonight. It’s the end of summer. Please.”
“They have cameras in there.”
Smoke swirls out of Charlie’s nostrils and an imperious grin wraps around her cheeks. “Mr. Clorox isn’t gonna call the cops if you show him tits. Come on, the girls on the team have done this every year. All you have to do is act hot – which we both know you are.”
“Fine... fine.” I open the passenger door and slide out. Charlie pats out the joint, scrambling right behind me.
I glance over and she sashays in red velvet stilettos. Inky curls bounce up and down her back as she plops in a stick of gum. She throws the wrapper over her shoulder like she rules the world. We strut down the parking lot, to the gum-stained sidewalk. A bell dings over our heads as the door swings open.
The air conditioner blasts, and I lock eyes with Mr. Clorox licking a thumb repeatedly as he counts bills. The insides of my brain melt like a failing nuclear reactor.
Fluorescent lights beam off his greasy hair, and chunks of dandruff flop onto his sleeve. His fat, round, classic pizza face and beer gut screams pervert-living-in-grandma’s-basement. I bet he eats expired frozen dinners, too.
He smirks, checking us out. Sweat curls up between my toes, meeting the stench of cat piss seeping off him. His eyeballs look like they are about to burst out of their sockets as they crawl up our tan legs to our tight high-rise denim shorts and matching Korn crop tops.
“I’m gonna grab a drink.” I elbow Charlie in the arm. She winks.
“Hey, you!” Charlie flips her long locks over her shoulder and smiles at him. She leans against the counter, and the minty gum swirls around her tongue. Then she pulls up her top as planned.
“Whoops.” She flutters long lashes and slides him a crumbled bill stashed in her cleavage. “Can I get twenty on three?”
A wide grin molds across his face. It takes every ounce of my being not to choke on the vomit dancing in my throat. He’s got a sewer-pipe-broke kinda stench. Someone needs to invent the bleach bucket challenge and pour it all over him.
I turn on a heel and stroll down the aisle with racks full of candy bars and make a sharp right to the fridges in the back. The damned thing I call a heart acts like a bird trapped in a cage. My clammy fingers scrunch against the strap of my purse and I openthe fridge. Glass clinks as I weasel out a thick bottle of Fleischman’s vodka. Four liters of pure Satanism.
I gaze up at the mirrors above, and a cold shudder crawls down my back to the marrow of my bones. The front entrance dings, and two old, gangly men stagger in. I curse to myself to hurry. The fridge seals shut, and I shove the bottle in my purse, zip it, and find the biggest jug of orange juice.
I’m saturated in sweat when I reach the register. The jug thuds on the counter, and I pat down my pockets, searching for cash. I swear I shoved it in there. Charlie nudges a hip into mine, digs in her purse, and pulls out another twenty.
“Can I get two packs of Camel Blues as well?” Charlie tilts her head and smacks her gum. Mr. Clorox doesn’t say a word. He flashes us an unnerving smile while he strokes the wall, knocking down several packs of cigarettes.
“Oops, uh, sorry,” he says.
Charlie picks up a little pack of Big Red gum from the impulse-buy row of random merchandise on the counter. “And these too...” she gnaws at her bottom lip. Sweat drips down Mr. Clorox’s forehead, which he wipes with the back of his hand. Spotting the dude’s raging boner poking out from his khakis strangles me from within.
“See ya later.” Charlie wiggles fingers and shoves pennies and the cigs into her purse.
We strut out of the store and stop the facade the moment we link arms. Our heels clank against the concrete, racing to the Jeep.
“Did you catch sight of his boner?” Charlie giggles, popping open the gas cap.
“Oh God!” I gag. “I think I threw up a bit.”
“Oh, shut up,” she slithers in the gas nozzle to fill the tank and leaps into the front seat as we wait. “Have some gum, bitch.” She tosses me a piece.
“How did you keep a straight face the entire time?” I ask.
“I’m not sure, but all I think when I see him is,where’s the Clorox when you need it?” Hence, his nickname. Her cheeks burn, and she combusts into laughter and slaps a hand over her lips, until tears pool in her eyes. “I’m going to hell!” She wipes them away with care.
“He smells sooo bad!” I laugh as I unzip my purse a little, and Charlie purrs, pawing inside.
“Tonight is gonna be lit!”
“Only if I’m not holding your hair later,” I stick out my tongue. Charlie punches me in the shoulder as I close the passenger door.
