Wrong Thing (10 page)

Now he wouldn't have to be afraid. When the band had finished playing, the Kid and Miguel went back outside, but it was so crowded they couldn't find a table. So they stood, drank more beer, and talked. Some people they knew were there, and they waved to them and said hello. When the bar stopped serving, they decided to leave. Miguel went to take a piss, and the Kid waited for him.

The Kid noticed a woman sitting with two guys. They were all about his age. She looked like she was a mix of Mexican and Indian. Her straight hair was black, and reached almost to her waist. Her skin was light brown, and she had huge, slightly slanted eyes over high cheekbones. She was small and skinny, wearing blue denim shorts, black tights, a jacket, and a T-shirt.

She was looking at the Kid.

“What happened to your face?” she said.

“Got beat up” he said, unable to think of a plausible lie.

“Who by?”

“Some guys.”

She pointed to the space on the bench beside her. “Sit down.”

He did. She introduced him to the two guys. “This is Martin, but I call him Martian. And this is Bobby.”

The Kid shook hands with them both, and told them his name.

“My name's Vanjii,” the woman said. The two guys went on talking with each other. She kept looking at the Kid, and said, “Why'd you get beat up?”

“No reason. They were just messing with us.”

“Did they beat up that guy you're here with too?”

“Yeah.”

“Where's he?”

“At the restroom.”

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you and him like . . . gay?”

The Kid laughed at the thought. “No, we're both straight. What made you think that?”

“I saw you both coming out of Trash Disco once. A lot of gay guys go there.”

“Well, not us. He's my roommate.”

She smiled at him. “I'm glad you're straight.” She lowered her voice. “Neither of these guys is my boyfriend, they're just friends. Bobby wants to be, but it's never gonna happen.”

Miguel appeared. “Hey, bro. We leaving or staying?” he asked the Kid.

Before the Kid could answer, Vanjii said, “Martian's giving me a ride home. Hey, you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Not really,” the Kid said.

“Well, I'll be working at Woolworth's in the Plaza. Come and see me in the afternoon, okay?”

“Okay.”

Before he stood up, she hugged him quickly.

The Kid and Miguel walked out into the street. “How in the hell did you get talking to her?” Miguel asked.

“I didn't. She got talking to me.”

“Man. Today has been the best of times and worst of times for sure.”

“Where'd you get that?”

“It's from the book I'm working on,” Miguel said.

The Kid looked at him. “You're writing a book?”

“Hell, no. I'm trying to read one.”

They both laughed, half-realizing how drunk they were. The Kid told Miguel what Vanjii had said to him, and Miguel had hysterics. “If it was anybody but you, I'd say they had to be messing with me. Come and see me at Woolworth's . . . God damn.”

T
he Kid slept until around eleven, then got up and ate fried chicken livers and eggs for breakfast. Miguel was still asleep. The Kid drank some coffee, then went outside and got in his car. He drove to Acequia Madre Street, to the house where the snitch lived. He parked, got out of the car and knocked on the door.

A young woman opened it. “Is Rob home?” the Kid asked her.

She looked at him venomously. “He left.”

“When'll he be back?”

“He won't be back. He left for good.”

“Where'd he go?”

“I don't know. He didn't say where he was going.”

The Kid knew she was lying, but that didn't matter. “Thanks,” he said. The woman closed the door. The Kid wondered if she was the woman the snitch had planned to marry, and if she would join him wherever he was moving to.

The Kid drove to the Plaza, but in the early afternoon it was impossible to find a parking space anywhere near it. He drove around for a while, then headed for the Aztec Cafe. He drank a hot cider and read the
New Mexican.
It wasn't a very long walk from Aztec Street to the Plaza, so when he left the Aztec he decided to leave his car there and walk.

The Woolworth's was made from adobe, but the Kid didn't know whether it was real. A lot of the buildings are just made that way for the benefit of tourists and white incomers. Only rich white people lived in the center of town now; gentrification had driven the Mexicans out into the barrios. The Kid went into the Woolworth's and looked at the checkout people, but none of them was Vanjii. He walked around the store looking for her among the aisles, but he didn't find her.

Then he heard her yell, “Hey!”

There was a snack bar to one side of the store. She was standing behind the counter, waving to him. She wore a uniform, and her hair was in a long ponytail.

The Kid walked over to the counter. “Hey,” he said.

She came around from behind the counter and hugged him like they were old friends. “I didn't think you'd show up,” she said.

“Why not?”

She laughed. “I don't know. I just didn't. Hey, you want something to eat?” She lowered her voice. “My boss ain't around, so you can have it for free.”

“Yeah, thanks.” The Kid didn't relish the prospect of eating anything from a Woolworth's menu, but he didn't want to be impolite. He scanned the menu. “I guess I'll have a hot dog and some fries and a Dr Pepper.”

“You got it. Sit down and I'll bring it to you.”

He sat in a booth. Vanjii brought him his food about two minutes later. She put the tray on the table in front of him, then sat down facing him.

“Tell me something,” he said. “Did you go to Capitol High School?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Did you?”

“Yeah.”

“That's weird. I don't remember you.”

Just as well, the Kid thought. “I kind of remember you,” he said. “But I wasn't sure.”

“I had short hair back then.”

“You sure don't now.”

“I know. I haven't cut it in six years.”

“It's really cool, though. I like it.”

“Cool,” she said.

“What time do you get off work?”

“At four.”

“You want to go do something?”

“Yeah. What do you wanna do?”

“I don't care. Anything you want. What kind of music do you like?” The Kid shrugged. “Everything. How about you?”

“The same. You wanna go up to the Paramount tonight?”

“Sure. What's going on there?”

“I don't know. There'll be something. Or I think there's a punk show at Doctor Know.”

“Whatever you want,” he said.

Someone called to her. There were other customers she had to serve. “I have to get back to it,” she told the Kid. “You gonna come back later, or hang out here until I'm done?”

The Kid looked at his watch. It was just past two. “I'll hang out here, if that's okay with you.”

“Cool. You don't have to work today?”

“No. I just quit my job.”

He went and bought a magazine, then came back to the booth, sat down, and read it. Whenever things got slow, Vanjii would come over and talk to him.

“What was the job you quit?” she said.

“I had my own business, me and my friend Miguel you saw with me last night. We were selling advertising, but it didn't work out.”

“Yeah? So what're you gonna do now?”

“I don't know yet. I'm thinking about it.”

“Hey, do people call you the Kid? Is that your nickname?”

“Yeah, I guess. Who told you?”

“My friend Bobby. Remember, he was with me last night? He told me.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“Just stuff. That you're bad news. But Martian says he's just jealous ‘cause he knew I wanted to hang out with you.”

“Did what he said bother you?”

“Nah.” She smiled at him.

When she finished her shift, she asked him, “Do you have a car?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, can you do me a favor? My car's at my apartment. I got drunk and crashed at Martian's last night, and he drove me here today. I was gonna call him or Bobby and get them to pick me up and give me a ride, but I'd rather just hang out with you . . . ”

“Yeah, I'll drive you. But my car's down on Aztec Street. You mind walking down there?”

“No, I like walking. I ain't been driving much, since I got my license suspended.”

“What for?”

“DUI. I got pulled over so drunk I was driving the wrong way on a one-way street.”

The Kid laughed. “I did that once when I was sober.”

Vanjii took off her uniform smock. Under it she wore a T-shirt. She was also wearing black jeans and Doc Marten boots. She put on a leather jacket, and she and the Kid went outside.

“So how long've you worked at Woolworth's?” he said as they walked.

“About six months. I ain't gonna do it much longer. It sucks. I was going to the community college but I ran out of money, so I quit and started working full-time. I thought I could save enough money to go back to school, but I don't make enough.”

“What do you want to do after you go to school?”

“Don't know,” she said.

She told him she was born in Santa Fe, but when her parents split up her mother had taken the kids to Phoenix for a few years. They'd come back to Santa Fe when Vanjii was thirteen, and she had been there ever since. She was always thinking about moving to Phoenix, or maybe just to Albuquerque, anywhere that wasn't Santa Fe, but she never seemed to make the move.

As she walked, Vanjii talked fast, with hardly a pause for breath. Every now and then she'd turn her head away and spit, but she didn't let that break the flow of her sentences. Unlike many women, she wasn't as tall as the Kid, and he liked that. On every other street they walked down, someone would wave to her and she would yell, “Hey!” and wave back.

They reached Aztec Street and got in the Kid's car. He followed Vanjii's directions. She had a room in a shared house in the barrio, not very far from his parents' place. “I'm beat,” she said as he parked the car in the driveway. “I wanna take a nap. How about you?”

“Yeah, I'm tired,” he said. He wasn't tired at all, but he liked the idea of lying down with her, if that was what she had in mind.

It was. Her room was little more than a closet. Her clothes were strewn everywhere. There was a quilt on the bed, but no sheet. They took off their jackets and shoes and lay on the bare mattress and covered themselves with the blanket. “We can sleep for a while, then eat something, then go out,” Vanjii said. “Okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

They lay close together. The Kid put an arm around Vanjii. She didn't seem to mind. He kissed her face, then her mouth. She kissed him back lightly, but didn't open her mouth, and pulled away when he tried to kiss her harder. “Go to sleep,” she said.

She turned away from him, lying on her side. He kept on holding her, snuggling from behind, liking the feel of her ass against his groin. She smelled of soap or shampoo or lotion, he didn't know which and didn't care.

Vanjii fell asleep quickly. The Kid lay there for more than an hour, awake, wanting her, but glad of the little he had. One of his hands was on her stomach. He could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric of her shirt, feel her breathing. He found himself imagining how easily she could be turned into nothing, how a bullet or a blade could open her body and turn it into cold meat, take away everything she was. Holding her, he couldn't believe that was true, but he knew it was.

Then he fell asleep too.

When he woke, the room was dark. She was awake too. It was the sound of her breathing that woke him. She was lying on her back, taking big, painful, wheezing breaths.

“What's wrong?” he said.

She didn't answer. He asked again, and she said, “I can't breathe. It hurts.”

“Why?”

“. . . I don't know.”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“I don't know.”

But the Kid knew. Vanjii was so weak she could hardly sit up. “I'm gonna call an ambulance,” the Kid said.

“Don't. They charge you five hundred dollars. My tia died last month, and they sent my cousin the bill.”

“Okay. Then I'm gonna drive you.”

“I ain't got insurance.”

“You're going anyway. Look at you.”

They put on their jackets and shoes. The Kid looked around the house, hoping one or more of her roommates might be home and be able to help. But the house was dark and empty. The Kid half-led, half-carried Vanjii to his car. She lay down on the back seat and curled up.