Cherry Money Baby (25 page)

Friday evening she stood before the bathroom mirror. Her tiny makeup collection had gone down with the trailer, so she’d have to go
au naturale.
Some fabric was needed to repair the broken strap. She snipped a section from the sleeve of her Minnie Mouse tee, and with a little needle-and-thread work was able to make a patch. She could fasten the strap now, but there was no way to hide the ugly strip of T-shirt material. It was a Franken-dress.

Hating herself, hating Franken-Dress, Cherry wandered outside to find a wildflower for her hair. Pop was standing in the side yard, drinking a beer.

“You look like spring,” he said. He looked beer warmed and, maybe, happy.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Watching the sunset.” He gestured toward the horizon. “Got sick of TV.”

She stood by him and let him put his arm around her shoulder. She always felt tiny and protected in Pop’s arms. How did kids with skinny dads ever feel safe?

“That is a beautiful sight,” said Pop. “Better’n HD.”

“You’re in a good mood.”

“I guess I am. Huh.” He sipped his beer. “I dunno, Snack Pack. Insurance won’t cover the cost of a new trailer, which means we might need to sell the auto shop or at least refinance it all to hell. The situation ain’t great. But we got to make the best of it. Everything’s got to change now. And we can roll with it or get stuck.” He puffed out his mustache.

“I shouldn’t have left Stew alone.”

Pop took another draw from his tall boy. “Yep. Wish you hadn’t done that.” He squeezed her tighter. “Accidents happen. I’m just glad we’re safe. And together.”

They were silent awhile, watching the blues deepen to oranges and reds in the sky.

“You don’t hate me?”

He kissed her forehead. “I could never.”

She didn’t mind walking to the theater. It was a short trek across Aubrey Park, the field a little soggy from the morning’s rain. Some kids were shooting hoops, and the slap of the ball echoed across the grass and made Cherry think of summer. She passed the darkened gazebo, which she now thought of as hers and Lucas’s. The floodlights were busted. A sign hung on the gate reading:

CLOSED FOR REPAIRS
NO TRESPASSING
AUBREY PARKS COUNCIL

The Four Hills Theater was all lit up, the lot jammed with cars. She’d never seen it so packed. The theater was Aubrey’s half-assed attempt at a cultural center. On New Year’s Eve, the town held First Night celebrations here, and sometimes the high school’s proms were in the basement all-purpose room. It was a hideous monstrosity, tarted up with fake plaster moldings and peel-away frescoes. Tonight the brass railings and ashtrays were dusted off for the big Paramount thank-you party, and all the local Important People — council members, business owners, basically anyone who owned a tux — had turned up in their minivans and station wagons for a rare night of glamour.

There was a bar in the theater lobby, and Cherry waited in line for a free ginger ale. She stood by an urn of fake roses, nervously fiddling with her wildflower. Soon there would be no more nights like this. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. She certainly wanted no more parties, no more drugs, no more skanky limousines. She thought of pictures she’d seen of towns destroyed by tornadoes, the path of devastated homes cutting through the otherwise untouched landscape. The storm was moving on, and she was left behind to rebuild.

The revolving doors blinked, and Lucas entered the lobby. She waved to him, and he crossed the plush carpet, sidestepping waiters with trays of nibbles. He’d worn his funeral suit and a dark-green shirt.

“Hey,” she said, adjusting his tie. “Looking snazzy.”

“I couldn’t find the right shoes.” He looked her over. “You look incredible.” He threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed. “I like your flower.”

“Cherry!” Vi trotted up, her gargantuan purse clinking as she moved. “Isn’t this
amazing
?” She patted her bag. “I snuck some of my mom’s wine coolers in case it gets boring.”

“
Vi,
this is supposed to be a classy affair.”

Her best friend and fiancé glanced at each other, then at her.

“What?”

“Since when do you care about
classy
?” Lucas chuckled.

“Or call things ‘affairs’?” said Vi.

Cherry ruffled. “Fuck it,” she said, doing a crack imitation of herself. “Let’s get our seats.”

“You go ahead, Vi,” said Lucas. “We’ll be right behind you.”

“All right, but if you guys ditch me to hook up in the parking lot or whatever, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Vi tottered toward the theater, rattling as she went.

The lobby was clearing out, and soon they were alone.

“What’s up?”

He searched for the right words. “Is everything okay? You seem different lately.”

“Well, my house
did
burn down.”

“Yeah. No, I mean, you seem sort of
distant.
Like you’re all up inside yourself, looking out.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind, Lucas. You know?”

“I know!” He touched her arm, trying to avoid offense. “I just wanted to make sure
we
were okay. I don’t want you to feel . . . if things have changed for you, I mean . . . we don’t have to.”

She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t sure what he was saying. “What do you mean? What are you even saying?”

He looked away, pushing his breath out. “Nothing. Never mind. This is stupid.”

“No! What is it?” She jerked away from his touch. Why was she suddenly so pissed off? So terrified? “You brought it up.”

“Fine,” he said. “It’s just, I thought when you and Ardelia started hanging out, there was no way the whole movie-star lifestyle would interest you, because you’re Cherry and you don’t give a shit about glamour and clothes and money. But now it kinda seems like it
does
interest you. And I can’t understand how you could be friends with a person like Ardelia”— he took a breath, readying himself —“and want to marry a person like me.”

“Fuck . . .
what
?” Suddenly she was holding back tears. “I mean . . . where the fuck is this coming from?”

Lucas’s voice was even, but his hands were trembling. “Does that mean I’m right?”

She was stunned. She’d had no idea he felt this way. How long had he been holding this in? What kind of girlfriend was she, not to notice? It was like lowering binoculars and being startled to discover how far away everything really was. The great gulf, the great space you cannot fathom, inside the person you love.

“You’re not right!” She held his fingers, squeezed them, pulled him back to her. “Listen. This has been the most insane month of my life. But it’s over now. These people are leaving, and it’s just you and me. Whatever happened while they were here, it doesn’t change anything, okay? It doesn’t change anything about you and me.”

He wanted to believe it. She could see it stirring inside him. “You sure? Because if you want to call it off . . .”

She kissed him. “I wanna marry you, you dick.”

And suddenly it seemed doable. Things
could
go back to normal. Maybe she
could
forget about what had happened with Maxwell. In fact, she promised herself she
would.
She was moving on. She was rolling with it. She wasn’t a different person. And to prove it to herself, she grabbed her boyfriend by the hand and yanked him down the stairs, through the revolving doors, and out into the warm evening air. A few stragglers were coming up from the parking lot, and Cherry and Lucas raced past them, two kids up to no good.

“We’re totally gonna get caught,” Lucas said when they reached the gazebo. It was dark, eerie, private. Their gazebo.

“I don’t care.” She pulled him down, hiding them both behind the gazebo’s whitewashed fence. The concrete was gritty and cold, but she didn’t feel it. She just felt the warmth of him, his fingers pressed into her wrists, her thighs, drawing on her, marking her as forever his. She didn’t know if the world was vibrating or if she was. This was happening, this was happening. And, yes, this was exactly what she wanted, here in a familiar place, with his familiar smell and familiar touch, at home, at home, at home. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, his green sleeves and her red dress —
in and up, in and up,
just like the poster said.

She couldn’t breathe. He was saving her life.

Vi had saved them seats in the back row. Onstage a man in a flannel suit was droning
thank-you
s.

“Where have you been? This has been
so boring.
There was a speech from the mayor, and then the arts council, and then . . .” Vi’s eyes went wide. She looked Cherry up and down as if she were glowing green from head to foot. “Oh, my God!
Oh, my God!
You guys were just doing it, weren’t you?”

Someone shushed them.

“Shut up,”
Cherry hissed, trying not to giggle. She was soaring. She was
stratospheric.
Lucas looked away to hide his face. He was shaking with laughter.

“Holy shit!”
Vi squeezed Cherry’s hands. “You totally just lost your V-card. It’s all over your face, you
slut.
”

The guy who’d shushed them turned around in his seat.

“Will you please be quiet?”

“What’s that?” Cherry said as loudly as she could, putting a hand to her ear. The man scowled and turned back as Lucas and Vi melted with laughter.

“Classic Cherry,” said Vi, stifling her own laughter.

“Yeah,” said Cherry.
Classic me.

It felt so good to be Classic Cherry again. How could doing something for the first time make you feel like your old self?

She held Lucas’s hand, feeling warm and sore and elated.

The director introduced his “Olive and Stewart,” and Ardelia entered stage left in a voluminous green gown. Trailing in its wake was Maxwell in a sharkskin suit. The sleaze. Cherry felt impervious now. And as for Ardelia, she felt only affection. The movie stars glimmered distantly like details from a dream. Ardelia was where she belonged, onstage, and Cherry belonged here, in the back row, with the troublemakers, the trailer trash.

“Can you believe we partied with
him
?” said Vi.

“Look at that suit,” said Cherry. “He’s so cheesy.”

Vi thought, then chuckled. “Yeah, he
is
kind of cheesy.”

Cherry felt a tap on her shoulder. Spanner stood in the aisle. She looked like an overdressed usher, holding a clipboard and wearing a headset with an orange stripe across the earpiece.

“Do you
ever
get a night off?” Cherry said.

“Ardelia wants to see you.”

She glanced at the others. She didn’t want to leave the protective halo of their company. “Now?”

Spanner scowled. “Of course not now. They’re about to play a clip. You can meet her backstage while it’s rolling.”

“Where?”

“There’s a stage door there.” She pointed to a small black panel in the corner.

“How will I . . . ?” started Cherry, but Spanner swept back up the aisle, as if escaping a horrible smell.

The lights dimmed, and the crowd clapped. Cherry glanced up the gloomy aisle toward the back of the theater. She looked to Lucas, squeezing his hand.

“Go!” he said. “Maybe she wants to give you a good-bye present.”

“Yeah, and try not to crash this one,” said Vi.

“All right, all right. I’m going.”

Cherry made her way down the red carpet toward the tiny black door. There was no knob, only a round hole where it had once been. She pushed against the black panel, into the dark. Her eyes adjusted. She heard the scrape of feet, the zip and shuffle of curtains. Someone rushed past her. She saw what looked like a chintzy replica of Aubrey. These were sets from a recent production, pasteboard housefronts and a phony train station, a length of white picket fence made of Styrofoam. A sign read:

UTILITY ACCESS ONLY
NO ADMITTANCE

“Cherry!” a voice called.

“Where are you?”

“Over here.”

Ardelia stood against a wall lined with pulleys and ropes for controlling the curtains. More phony fencing was stacked on the scaffolding above her, reminding Cherry of railroad struts. They were cramped together in the tiny cave of scaffolding and rigging. Ardelia spoke in a whisper. “Listen, I’ve got something I need to say to you.”

“Okay.”

A bright panel began to flicker above. They were starting the clip. Ardelia’s breath was warm on her cheek.

“I’ve been thinking it over.”

An enormous, flip-side Ardelia spoke on-screen in a bogus southern accent.
“Stewart, my dear. It is not for love of Robert that I hesitate. But what shall become of you, should I . . . should we . . . ?”

“This may be a bit surprising, what I’m about to say,” the real Ardelia went on, “but I want you to think about it, and don’t answer now.”

“Okay . . .”

“I cannot begin to comprehend the consequences, my love. For the angle of the moon is but a trifle in a treetop, but when that silvery orb is reached, hundreds of miles make the difference . . .”

“Cherry,” said Ardelia, cupping her hand around the other girl’s ear. Cherry smelled lavender and saw the white flash of teeth in the reverse movie light.