Read Online Cherry Money Baby by John M. Cusick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John M. Cusick
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Mel’s Diner. Vi swirled her fries in some mayonnaise (a gross tic she’d picked up visiting her cousin in Montreal). “So, where are you and Lucas going to live?”
Cherry stared at her plate: a mountain of hash browns with a pool of ketchup on top like a crater of lava. Usually Hash Browntain was her favorite late-night snack, but she’d lost her appetite. It was all this future talk.
“I don’t know. We’ll get an apartment, maybe.”
“Yeah, but . . .” Vi repeated the swirling motion, this time heavenward. “How are you going to support yourselves? Will you work?”
“Jesus, Vi. Do you have to be such a bring-down?”
“What? I’m just asking a totally reasonable question. You guys aren’t gonna live at
home.
”
“Yeah, I know that,” said Cherry. “I’ll figure it out. I don’t have to think about it right now.”
The SweetWear T-shirt page flashed in her mind.
I DON’T THINK .
Dudes stumbling out of Shabooms swaggered past their window. A chach in white chinos licked his lips.
“You wish!” Cherry shouted. They probably couldn’t hear her through the glass.
“Okay, change of subject,” Vi said. “How was it?”
“What?”
“The sex!” said Vi. “Hello?”
“We haven’t done it,” said Cherry. “You know that.”
Vi blinked with exaggerated slowness.
“Quoi?”
“We didn’t do it.”
“You got
engaged
and you didn’t
fuck
?”
A woman in the next booth scowled in their direction.
“No,” said Cherry. “But there was stuff. I mean, new stuff.”
“Did you . . . ?” Vi made a fist, bulged out a cheek.
Cherry laughed. “Not yet. I’ve actually never done . . . that. Not even with Deke.”
“Well, you should,” said Vi. “Dude puts a ring on it — he should get
something.
”
“Well, technically there was no ring, so . . .” said Cherry.
There was a tap on the window, which they ignored. The tap came louder, and Cherry put her middle finger to the glass, not wanting to bother with more douches in chinos. Vi’s eyes turned to dinner plates.
“Cherry, look!”
Cherry looked. Ardelia was standing on the curb. She waved and made a
Why?
gesture. The blond girl from Burrito Barn was with her, texting.
Sorry!
Cherry mouthed, and leaped up. She tripped past the
ding-ding
of the diner door and ran into Ardelia’s hug.
“Fancy meeting you here!” she said. “Cherry, this is my best friend and manager, Spanner Grace.”
The blonde glanced up from her phone long enough to twitch her eyebrows.
“Hi,” Cherry said lamely. “Looks like you been out clubbing.”
Ardelia wore a form-hugging red dress. Her bitchy friend was in a ramrod-straight black skirt. Even made-up, she wasn’t as pretty as Ardelia. Cherry rolled that thought around in her head, savoring it.
“We were at the club up the street, but I was mobbed, so we left.” She glanced at the diner. “What are you doing?”
Mel’s Diner suddenly seemed toxically lame. Old biddies, the high-school boys. Cherry shrugged. “Nothing much.”
“Ohh.” Ardelia rubbed her hands together. “I would kill for a milk shake. Span, what do you think?”
“We’re expected,” said Spanner. She was also British, but while Ardelia’s accent fluttered and weaved, the other girl’s stuck to its perch, wings clipped. She bet this girl would never try Laffy Taffy — or Hash Browntain, for that matter.
“Oh, right, the thing,” Ardelia said. She took Cherry’s hands. “Do you want to come?”
Spanner and Cherry exchanged matching glances. “Come where?”
“Maxwell’s having a party. Just a small thing at his suite in Boston. Friends and cast members.”
Maxwell Silver. Movie star. Heartthrob. Ardelia was inviting her to an after-hours party at his
hotel room.
She glanced down at her cutoffs and tatty halter. “I’m not really dressed. . . .”
“Oh, come
on.
Nobody cares. It’ll be fun! Besides, you can save me from the boring studio people.” She leaned in close. “Not
one
of
Cherry stared at her plate: a mountain of hash browns with a pool of ketchup on top like a crater of lava. Usually Hash Browntain was her favorite late-night snack, but she’d lost her appetite. It was all this future talk.
“I don’t know. We’ll get an apartment, maybe.”
“Yeah, but . . .” Vi repeated the swirling motion, this time heavenward. “How are you going to support yourselves? Will you work?”
“Jesus, Vi. Do you have to be such a bring-down?”
“What? I’m just asking a totally reasonable question. You guys aren’t gonna live at
home.
”
“Yeah, I know that,” said Cherry. “I’ll figure it out. I don’t have to think about it right now.”
The SweetWear T-shirt page flashed in her mind.
I DON’T THINK .
Dudes stumbling out of Shabooms swaggered past their window. A chach in white chinos licked his lips.
“You wish!” Cherry shouted. They probably couldn’t hear her through the glass.
“Okay, change of subject,” Vi said. “How was it?”
“What?”
“The sex!” said Vi. “Hello?”
“We haven’t done it,” said Cherry. “You know that.”
Vi blinked with exaggerated slowness.
“Quoi?”
“We didn’t do it.”
“You got
engaged
and you didn’t
fuck
?”
A woman in the next booth scowled in their direction.
“No,” said Cherry. “But there was stuff. I mean, new stuff.”
“Did you . . . ?” Vi made a fist, bulged out a cheek.
Cherry laughed. “Not yet. I’ve actually never done . . . that. Not even with Deke.”
“Well, you should,” said Vi. “Dude puts a ring on it — he should get
something.
”
“Well, technically there was no ring, so . . .” said Cherry.
There was a tap on the window, which they ignored. The tap came louder, and Cherry put her middle finger to the glass, not wanting to bother with more douches in chinos. Vi’s eyes turned to dinner plates.
“Cherry, look!”
Cherry looked. Ardelia was standing on the curb. She waved and made a
Why?
gesture. The blond girl from Burrito Barn was with her, texting.
Sorry!
Cherry mouthed, and leaped up. She tripped past the
ding-ding
of the diner door and ran into Ardelia’s hug.
“Fancy meeting you here!” she said. “Cherry, this is my best friend and manager, Spanner Grace.”
The blonde glanced up from her phone long enough to twitch her eyebrows.
“Hi,” Cherry said lamely. “Looks like you been out clubbing.”
Ardelia wore a form-hugging red dress. Her bitchy friend was in a ramrod-straight black skirt. Even made-up, she wasn’t as pretty as Ardelia. Cherry rolled that thought around in her head, savoring it.
“We were at the club up the street, but I was mobbed, so we left.” She glanced at the diner. “What are you doing?”
Mel’s Diner suddenly seemed toxically lame. Old biddies, the high-school boys. Cherry shrugged. “Nothing much.”
“Ohh.” Ardelia rubbed her hands together. “I would kill for a milk shake. Span, what do you think?”
“We’re expected,” said Spanner. She was also British, but while Ardelia’s accent fluttered and weaved, the other girl’s stuck to its perch, wings clipped. She bet this girl would never try Laffy Taffy — or Hash Browntain, for that matter.
“Oh, right, the thing,” Ardelia said. She took Cherry’s hands. “Do you want to come?”
Spanner and Cherry exchanged matching glances. “Come where?”
“Maxwell’s having a party. Just a small thing at his suite in Boston. Friends and cast members.”
Maxwell Silver. Movie star. Heartthrob. Ardelia was inviting her to an after-hours party at his
hotel room.
She glanced down at her cutoffs and tatty halter. “I’m not really dressed. . . .”
“Oh, come
on.
Nobody cares. It’ll be fun! Besides, you can save me from the boring studio people.” She leaned in close. “Not
one
of
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