Cherry Money Baby (19 page)

Polino glowered, letting her stew, studying her.

“Are you on drugs?”

“What?”

“Smack. Dope. Grass.”

“Grass?”

“Cherry.”

“I’m not on drugs, Mrs. P. What makes you think I’m on drugs?”

Polino opened a folder on her desk. “Your academic record’s never been stellar, Kerrigan. But lately it’s
atrocious.
There’s a smell coming off this thing.” She waved the file in the air. “It smells like deadbeat.” Cherry tried not to smile. Polino was funny even when she was ripping you a new one. “Then there was your suspension —”

“That was for a good cause! Vi —”

Polino stopped her with a raised hand. “I admire your motives. But you didn’t make up
any
of the work you missed. You didn’t even try. Look.” She moved from her desk to the seat next to Cherry. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. In case you can’t tell, your teachers like you.
I
like you. Boy, if I could have given it to that punk Neil . . .” Polino entertained that fantasy for a moment, then refocused. “You are dauntless, Cherry Kerrigan. But lately you’ve been
stupid.
What’s going on?”

Cherry studied her hands. She trusted Mrs. Polino. There weren’t many teachers you could talk to about real shit. “I’m going through some changes.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Not like that! I’m not preggers. It’s just . . . Have you ever been certain you wanted one thing, just this regular, normal, wonderful thing? And then you try something a little more . . . I don’t know,
exotic
? And suddenly you’re not so sure?”

“Okay,” Polino said, taking this in. “You know a lot of girls experiment —”

“Oh, for Jesus.” Cherry covered her ears. “I’m not
gay.
That’s not . . . Forget it.” She stood. “Thanks for the talk. I mean it. Let’s just chalk this up to senior-itis.”

Polino looked up, frowning but not angry. “You know the puffer-fish thing?”

“No. What’s that?”

“Puffer fish live at these great depths, down where the pressure is so intense it would crush a human to a pulp.”

Cherry laughed. “I know that feeling.”

“Well, these puffer fish, when you bring them up to the surface, where there isn’t so much pressure, you know what happens?”

“They go,
Why the hell didn’t I do this earlier? It’s way nicer up here?
”

“They explode,” said Polino. “Their bodies aren’t used to it, like the fish who were born near the surface. The puffer fish burst.”

Cherry shifted her weight. “This is a metaphor.”

“I teach biology, kid,” said Polino. “English lit is down the hall.”

That evening Ardelia took Cherry to dinner again, this time at the craft service table on set. Morale was low. Today’s session was cut short, with one cancellation and a no-show. The girls who’d kept their appointments were hardly stellar mommy material. They were nearing the bottom of Ardelia’s list, and Cherry wondered whether they’d been too harsh on the earlier candidates. A snotty attitude or slight gambling problem didn’t seem so bad compared to a manic-depressive or a girl with a stutter who’d stormed out calling Ardelia a
p-p-pretentious bitch.

The evening’s shoot was a crowd scene, and dozens of extras milled around under a large tent, waiting for costumes. Cherry thought she recognized a few kids from school. They were like cattle, cordoned off in numbered sections. She followed Ardelia past the tent, toward the spread of eats labeled principals only. The extras nearest stared with envy.
Starving
cattle.

“I’m getting a little discouraged,” Ardelia said, piling her plate with fruit. Cherry had tried to detect any lingering effects from last night’s chemical freak-out, but Ardelia seemed undamaged, if a little maudlin. “We’re two-thirds through the list, and every candidate seems like a disaster. I suppose we could go through another agency, but I’m not sure I have the energy for it.”

“It only takes one,” Cherry said, turning her back to the hungry-looking extras.

“That’s true.”

She couldn’t believe the bounty on the craft table. In addition to picnic-style crackers and cold cuts, there were cookies, cake, pastas warming in chafing dishes, chicken wings, skewered meats, and coolers full of different sodas and bubbly water.

“Jesus, next time I’ll bring a shopping bag.”

“I know, it’s meager. They’re cutting costs,” Ardelia said.

They took their eats to a nearby table, out of sight of the extras. Cherry picked at her cold cuts and looked up to see Ardelia studying her.

“What?”

“I think you’d look nice with your original color, that’s all. Wouldn’t Cherry look nice with dark hair?” Ardelia asked someone over Cherry’s shoulder. She caught a whiff of scented shampoo as Maxwell dropped beside her.

“Stunning,” Maxwell said, helping himself to one of Cherry’s French fries. “Of course, you really can’t top Ardelia’s Bride of Frankenstein look.”

Ardelia modeled her tower of hair. “There’re three support rods in this thing. I don’t know how ladies did it back then.”

“How goes Mommy Quest 2013?”

“Miserably,” Ardelia said. “Maxwell, won’t
you
carry the baby?”

“Can’t. No babies. It’s in my contract.”

“Poo.”

“Hey,” said Cherry, “wouldn’t Spanner do it? Seems like she’d do anything for you.”

“I asked. She said no,” Ardelia said.

“She said no? To you?” Cherry couldn’t believe it. “I know it’s a big decision, but I can’t picture her turning you down.”

Ardelia twirled some cold sesame noodles around her fork and shrugged.

“Too bad Cherry’s only seventeen,” said Maxwell. “She could carry it for you.”

“How do you know how old I am?” Cherry said.

Ardelia smirked. “Maxwell’s taken quite the interest in you.”

He took another fry. “Careful, Deen.”

“He checks your Facebook page.”

Cherry turned to him. “You do?”

Maxwell glared like he was trying to incinerate Ardelia on the spot. “Is it so wrong to take an interest in the girl who saved my friend’s life?”

“Are you stalking me?” said Cherry.

“Yes, Maxwell!” Ardelia planted her palms on the table. “Are you Cherry’s stalker? Are you
obsessed
with her?”

“I mean, I am pretty fabulous,” Cherry said. “You wouldn’t be the first man I’ve broken.”

“Har-har. This is why I eat lunch alone.” Maxwell stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m due in makeup.”

“I’ve got to run, too,” Cherry said, clearing her plate.

The girls hugged good-bye, and soon Cherry found herself walking in the same direction as Maxwell. She didn’t get nervous around boys. Even with Lucas, her first feelings had been fluttery but never edgy. Now she found herself searching for something to say. All she could think of were references to his movies, which seemed dumb.

Maxwell spoke first. “She adores you, you know.”

“I adore her,” Cherry said. As usual, the thinking happened after the talking. Cherry realized it was true — she adored Ardelia.

“She hasn’t taken to anyone like this since Spanner.”

As if conjured by her name, Spanner emerged from the director’s tent a few yards away, doing her best not to hobble on her ankle brace. She looked furious.

“She sprained it falling out of bed,” said Maxwell. He didn’t explain further, and Cherry didn’t ask. They watched Spanner signal a hapless PA, waving the doomed boy over.

“That’s why she hates you, you know,” Maxwell said. “You remind her of herself.”

“Her?”
Cherry raised an eyebrow so high it hurt. “Oh, yeah, we’re total soul twins.”

“You wouldn’t know it, but Spanner’s from humble beginnings,” said Maxwell. “They met when Ardelia was filming
The Rented Girl
in a tiny village in the West Midlands. Spanner was cast as a child circus performer.” Maxwell chuckled. “Ardelia says that girl spoke with the thickest backcountry accent you’ve ever heard. Almost unintelligible. I suppose she’s what you’d call British trailer trash.”

“
Spanner?
But she’s so . . . polished.”

“
Spanner
was her last name,” Maxwell corrected. “
Gracie Spanner.
She changed it to
Spanner Grace
a few years later, around the time she started speaking the Queen’s English and buying designer clothes. Quite the Eliza Doolittle.” Maxwell smirked. “You can always spot a social climber. They know the
proper
way better than the ones born rich.”

Spanner harangued the PA. Her voice reached them across the lot, the distance robbing it of coherence, leaving only its sharpness.

“Why are you telling me this?” Cherry asked.

“Just thought you should know what’s possible,” said Maxwell. “In life. You could have what she has, if you want it.” His eye met hers for the first time, and the force of their blue was like a physical shove. Cherry felt something stir in her center — and squashed it.

“I don’t want what she has. Thanks.”

Maxwell shrugged. “The way Ardelia’s been grooming you, you may not have a choice soon.”

“
Grooming
me?”

He didn’t seem to hear her. His thoughts had wandered elsewhere. “I was thinking of exploring your town tonight,” he said, his conspiratorial tone gone. “Anything here to do besides throw cans off the bridge?”

“There’s a club,” Cherry said. “Shabooms.”

Maxwell considered this. “Sounds interesting. I think I’ll check it out.
Ciao,
my dear.”

Before she could react, he kissed her on both cheeks. She knew from television this was how Europeans said good-bye, but that didn’t stop her turning red. And then she was staring at his back as he sauntered away.

“Hey,” Lucas said. He was right there all of a sudden, like he’d teleported in straddling his tiny trick bicycle.

“Jesus! You scared me,” she said. “Why aren’t you at work?”

“I’m going in at nine,” he said. “I thought I’d visit you.”

“Security let you past the gate?” It sounded terrible. It sounded exactly how she didn’t want it to sound. Lucas shrugged.

“It’s not exactly Fort Knox. Who was the guy giving you Frenchy cheek kisses?”

Cherry winced. “You saw that, huh?”

“Yep.”

“That was Maxwell Silver.” She flipped her hair, making a joke of it.

Lucas looked to where Maxwell was still crossing the lot, hands in his pockets. “The pirate?”

“Well, in this one he’s a nineteenth-century business tycoon with TB, but yeah. Same guy.”

“He was hitting on you?”

Cherry didn’t know the answer to this question, so she said, “You jealous?”

Lucas’s eyes hadn’t left Maxwell’s back. “No, but I’m not into movie stars kissing my boo.”

“He was just being . . .
foreign.
Don’t worry about him. He’s not into me.” She didn’t believe it. She wanted to believe it.

Together they walked Lucas’s bike to the parking lot. Cherry unlocked the Spider.

“Wait. Your bike won’t fit.”

“Oh,” said Lucas. The vintage car’s trunk was big enough for picnic lunches and maybe a carton of cigarettes. Cherry winced at the thought of muddy tires on the leather interior — and hated herself for it.

“I’ll just bike back,” he said. “I’ll meet you at my place in thirty, okay?”

Before she could respond, Lucas pedaled off, wobbling over the uneven pavement. He’d biked two miles to see her, and now he’d bike all the way back. She watched him go, part of herself going with him, stretching like Silly Putty, until she might snap.

“Lucas, wait!”

He braked and waited as she jogged over. “Fuck the car. Can I still fit on the handlebars?”

“Considering you’re the same size you were in eighth grade, yes.”

She punched his shoulder. “Come on, then, muscle man. Gimme a ride.”

She climbed on, steadying herself, and lurched as he kicked off. The bike swerved, and Cherry yelped with joy, nearly losing her balance. The road teetered with the seasick bobble of the bike, straightening as they picked up speed. She felt elevated, like a kid on her father’s shoulders. It was fun and scary to see the world from an artificial height, and part of the fun was knowing it wouldn’t last, and soon your feet would touch boring old earth. For now, she squeezed the handlebars, the front wheel zipping between her knees.

She could still feel the spots on her cheeks where they’d been kissed. She shut her eyes and let the spots tingle.