name
... who do you know drives a car like that, Alana?'
'No one!' I' m
pulling on my Ugg boots and then I ' m running for the door when Mom starts to flap.
'Now, just you hold on a minute my girl
... I know you' ve been a little out of sorts but
remember what Dr Morgan said about taking things easy!'
'Mom ...'
The horn again.
'Alana, I don' t
think running about all over town is the way to get your head together.'
'I' m not
running about, Mom ... I ' m just
...'
'Alana, I never ... I didn' t mean that.' She looks concerned, starts to undo her apron strings
at her back, then moves towards me with her hands reaching for my face.
'Mom, please.'
She clasps her hands round my face, her
eyes are all misty as she says, 'You ' re such a pretty, pretty girl my darling ... You could have anything
you want, anything in the whole world.'
I want to say, 'Anything?' Like it ' s a real choice or something, but I know it ' s not. I can ' t have Steve.
I pull away and run for the door.
I can hear Mom yelling after me as I
get into the Porsche.
We drive, like, forever. Brad talks and
talks about a whole heap of crap, what the Dodgers need to do next, how his
daddy knows President Obama, his vacation in France and England and wherever.
Eventually, we ' re parked out by
the flats. They have crags and rocks out here and they say some serial killer
used a scope-gun to shoot kids who were making out way back. I dunno if that ' s true, but it ' s what they say. I think about that a little as Brad turns off the
engine and swivels round to face me. He has that shit-eating grin of his on. I
never noticed before now but the grin ' s crooked, too.
'So, here we are,' he says.
'Yeah.'
He sits on the edge of his seat with
his crotch facing me, like maybe that serial killer ' s scope-gun once looked.
He touches his lips, sways a bit. Goes
on and on. Says Steve ' s name,
like three, maybe four times, I lose count. I ' m, like, hearing Steve,
Steve,
Steve,
Steve, and I ' m thinking, why? Why ' s he keep on him?
Enough. Enough already.
All the while I just look into him and
want to hear this is all, like, a nightmare or something. That my life ' s a bad dream I ' m soon gonna wake from. But I don ' t hear it. Nothing like it.
'Hey, c' mon,
you know I wanna fuck you again, Alana, and I know you ain ' t getting none from old loverboy Steve, so
I ' m guessing you could do with
the action.'
This is the best he can do?
I ' m tuned in to what he ' s saying and I ' m,
like, is that it? We done? You had your say already?
He reaches out and tries to pull me
towards him but I pull away.
'Oh, I get it.'
'You do?'
'Yeah, you want some stuff.'
'Stuff?'
Brad goes into his jacket and pulls out
a baggie, I can see a little white powder in the corner. He takes a few pinches
and lays out a line on the dash and offers it to me.
'Go on, it' s
what you want.'
I shake my head.
'Go on, go on.'
'I don' t do
drugs, Brad.'
Now he does the eye-roll thing and looks
through me. 'Oh, yeah.'
'What do you mean, oh yeah?'
He starts to tie a knot in the baggie,
tucks it back in his pocket.
I ask him again, 'What do you mean, oh
yeah?'
'Nothing, I mean, well ... you were
pretty out of it back at Trish' s place.'
I feel my heart beat fast again.
'Yeah?'
'Hell, yeah.'
He leans in again. I feel him start to
breathe close to my neck. He starts to kiss me, then his hands move over me.
Touching and grabbing.
'Where did you get the coke, Brad?'
A laugh, then, 'Connections.'
I feel his tongue come out, it runs up
and down my neck, onto my chest. He starts to unbuckle his belt. It seems to
take him, like, forever to draw down his zipper, but when I look up at his face
I see he ' s grinning and trying
to tease me or something, yeah, like he was some strip-joint dream boy, I don ' t think.
'Your connections, they can get you
anything you want?' I say.
He ' s on top of me now, pops it out, starts grinding, pulling at my
panties. 'They can get me anything I
... who do you know drives a car like that, Alana?'
'No one!' I' m
pulling on my Ugg boots and then I ' m running for the door when Mom starts to flap.
'Now, just you hold on a minute my girl
... I know you' ve been a little out of sorts but
remember what Dr Morgan said about taking things easy!'
'Mom ...'
The horn again.
'Alana, I don' t
think running about all over town is the way to get your head together.'
'I' m not
running about, Mom ... I ' m just
...'
'Alana, I never ... I didn' t mean that.' She looks concerned, starts to undo her apron strings
at her back, then moves towards me with her hands reaching for my face.
'Mom, please.'
She clasps her hands round my face, her
eyes are all misty as she says, 'You ' re such a pretty, pretty girl my darling ... You could have anything
you want, anything in the whole world.'
I want to say, 'Anything?' Like it ' s a real choice or something, but I know it ' s not. I can ' t have Steve.
I pull away and run for the door.
I can hear Mom yelling after me as I
get into the Porsche.
We drive, like, forever. Brad talks and
talks about a whole heap of crap, what the Dodgers need to do next, how his
daddy knows President Obama, his vacation in France and England and wherever.
Eventually, we ' re parked out by
the flats. They have crags and rocks out here and they say some serial killer
used a scope-gun to shoot kids who were making out way back. I dunno if that ' s true, but it ' s what they say. I think about that a little as Brad turns off the
engine and swivels round to face me. He has that shit-eating grin of his on. I
never noticed before now but the grin ' s crooked, too.
'So, here we are,' he says.
'Yeah.'
He sits on the edge of his seat with
his crotch facing me, like maybe that serial killer ' s scope-gun once looked.
He touches his lips, sways a bit. Goes
on and on. Says Steve ' s name,
like three, maybe four times, I lose count. I ' m, like, hearing Steve,
Steve,
Steve,
Steve, and I ' m thinking, why? Why ' s he keep on him?
Enough. Enough already.
All the while I just look into him and
want to hear this is all, like, a nightmare or something. That my life ' s a bad dream I ' m soon gonna wake from. But I don ' t hear it. Nothing like it.
'Hey, c' mon,
you know I wanna fuck you again, Alana, and I know you ain ' t getting none from old loverboy Steve, so
I ' m guessing you could do with
the action.'
This is the best he can do?
I ' m tuned in to what he ' s saying and I ' m,
like, is that it? We done? You had your say already?
He reaches out and tries to pull me
towards him but I pull away.
'Oh, I get it.'
'You do?'
'Yeah, you want some stuff.'
'Stuff?'
Brad goes into his jacket and pulls out
a baggie, I can see a little white powder in the corner. He takes a few pinches
and lays out a line on the dash and offers it to me.
'Go on, it' s
what you want.'
I shake my head.
'Go on, go on.'
'I don' t do
drugs, Brad.'
Now he does the eye-roll thing and looks
through me. 'Oh, yeah.'
'What do you mean, oh yeah?'
He starts to tie a knot in the baggie,
tucks it back in his pocket.
I ask him again, 'What do you mean, oh
yeah?'
'Nothing, I mean, well ... you were
pretty out of it back at Trish' s place.'
I feel my heart beat fast again.
'Yeah?'
'Hell, yeah.'
He leans in again. I feel him start to
breathe close to my neck. He starts to kiss me, then his hands move over me.
Touching and grabbing.
'Where did you get the coke, Brad?'
A laugh, then, 'Connections.'
I feel his tongue come out, it runs up
and down my neck, onto my chest. He starts to unbuckle his belt. It seems to
take him, like, forever to draw down his zipper, but when I look up at his face
I see he ' s grinning and trying
to tease me or something, yeah, like he was some strip-joint dream boy, I don ' t think.
'Your connections, they can get you
anything you want?' I say.
He ' s on top of me now, pops it out, starts grinding, pulling at my
panties. 'They can get me anything I
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