Read Online When Watched by Leopoldine Core - Free Book Online Page B

in Peanut’s mind. She set the greasy paper bag down between her feet in a quiet rage, the effect of which was oddly pretty. Frances looked over admiringly from time to time. Peanut looked her best when she was pissed. She took on the neat poise of a killer.
    â€œWill you wipe off my glasses? It’s like staring through a potato chip,” Frances said and took off her black frames.
    The joke was met with incredible disinterest. Peanut snatched the frames from her hand, untucked her T-shirt, and rubbed off the lenses. She handed them back to Frances without a word.
    Soon they were riding past squat gray shopping centers, one after another, with slabs of dried grass in between.
    â€œGod. Walmart looks like a grocery store in a bad neighborhood,” said Frances.
    â€œAmerica
is
a bad neighborhood,” Peanut said flatly.
    â€œDo we need anything from there? Maybe we should stop.”
    â€œFor what? A seven-foot box of cornflakes? No thanks,” Peanut said with satisfaction. She leaned back in her seat and repressed a smile.
    Frances pulled a dry piece of skin off her lip and a dot of blood rose up in its place. She felt anxious beside Peanut, who sat with her arms folded, resonating anger. Often Peanut veered into dark moods without warning and Frances always knew she was being accused of something, though she rarely knew what. She wanted badly to touch Peanut, but knew she couldn’t. She knew that in Peanut’s stillness, an ambush was coming. “I want to look at you but I can’t take my eyes off the road,” said Frances. “Whatever look you’re giving me, I can feel it.”
    â€œHow does it feel?”
    â€œLike standing next to a microwave.”
    Peanut sat stiffly, wishing she could somehow prompt an apology from Frances without explaining how she felt. She bided her time like an animal, glancing out the window at fast-food signs cast with colored light. She felt sharp and focused whenever she was this angry and, in this way, partly enjoyed the eerie mood between them. Peanut visualized Frances in San Francisco, flirting with whole rooms of women, and then settling on one to lead back to her hotel room. The thought made Peanut sweat profusely. Her legs stuck to the vinyl seat, which had split in three places and been duct-taped. She forced her gaze onto passing discount stores, dark casinos with candy-bright signs. Then a strange smile crept across her face. Peanut tucked her hands under her thighs. “So were you a whore in San Francisco?” she asked in a hostile flirty tone.
    â€œIs that what you want? You sound all turned on.”
    â€œCome on, were you?”
    â€œNo. More of a bore than a whore.”
    â€œYou didn’t flirt with anyone? I mean out of everyone you met, say you had to pick one—”
    â€œBut I don’t have to. You are always demanding that I do this. It’s so demented, Peanut. It’s like you’re baiting me to piss you off. And I’m not going to. I’m not some dog, okay? I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
    â€œI just find it hard to believe. I mean, you can hardly contain yourself at parties. You walk around stroking your tie, waiting for someone to compliment you, and then lean into any woman who shows the slightest—”
    Frances shot a glance at Peanut. “Look at you. You’re all flushed. You’re all jealous and turned on.”
    â€œI am not turned on.” Peanut straightened her back. “I’m making a point.” She stared at Frances with a grim, determined expression. “So tell me who you found attractive in San Francisco.”
    â€œOh my God.” Frances sighed. “Okay. Emmet I guess.”
    Peanut’s eyes grew. “Who’s Emmet?” she asked in an oddly cheerful tone that Frances knew could go dark at any moment. Peanut was always playful when gathering information about whomever Frances had paid particular attention to. She