“Me clean up? You’re the one fresh out of the pokey!”
“I was thinking I’d fix us some supper,” he said.
“Honey, I don’t have shit to eat. I was thinking we could go sneak into a Sizzler or something.”
“I learned to cook in there. You’d be surprised what I can do with a can of meat and some ketchup.” He grinned and flashed his million-dollar blues. He knew the power of that simple, winning act of charm, the look that made people see possibility where there wasn’t any, that made them lower their defenses when they shouldn’t.
Red nibbled her chapped and flaking lip. “You’re not gonna fleece me, are ya?”
“I’m hurt you’d even mention it,” Manny said.
She laughed herself into a coughing fit and skittered out of the room. “Okay, you win! I’m gonna wash the scum off me,” she said over her shoulder, “but I’ll always be a dirty whore!”
Manny found a packet of dried onion and a can of olives in the cupboard, a tube of Jimmy Dean sausage in the freezer behind a berg of frost, and some white rice in a take-out container in the fridge. He spooned some cloudy bacon fat from a can under the sink into a hot pan and sizzled the onion. Then he added chopped olives, browned the sausage, dumped in the rice, and wet it all with a splash of water. He put a lid on it and turned the heat down low.
While he waited for the thing to cook, Manny observed the chaos of memorabilia on Red’s fridge, photos of babies grown into kids and all the way to adulthood, blond, sunburnt, cheerful. Primitive drawings. Birth announcements and Christmas cards. He was amused by these strange artifacts from a world far away from his.
One note buried among them stuck out. The letter was written on yellowing paper and unsigned, but he recognized the handwriting immediately, large and careful, like that of a child who is learning her alphabet. He plucked it from its smiling rooster magnet.
Dear Red,
I found my aunt.
Thought you should know.
Dont come looking.
Just wanted to tell you I made it out and Im okay.
Hope you are too.
Her aunt. He remembered her spinning the tale on the spot, with her dirty face and the dribble coming out of her nose, and that he had been sure she was bluffing. He’d gone along with the story and even taken her to the edge of that town, whatever it was, certain that she was trying to make him think she had somewhere to go where people were waiting for her. But the aunt really existed, and now it seemed the girl had picked up the scent she had been following all those years before. He was lost in a rare slurry of insecurity. All that time they were together, had she just been waiting for her moment to escape? He lost his bearings as the kitchen swayed around him, and he lowered himself into a nearby chair, buried his face in his hands. No, that girl had worshipped him, had put herself in danger for him. There had been plenty of opportunities for her to leave, and she was more than capable. He had never kept her in a cage.
He slipped the letter in the folds of his near-empty wallet. If Red was in touch with Kit, she’d know where to find her.
Twenty minutes later, Red appeared in a bathrobe with a towel on her head, looking just as terrible as before, but wet.
“Guess they shut off the gas, cause that water was cold as a witch’s titty,” she said and wiggled a pinkie in her ear. “Ooh, heyy, that smells good, Merlin. What kinda magic you making?”
Manny had accidentally let the bottom layer scorch while he snooped but it didn’t matter. Junkies weren’t choosy. He piled the prison cell hash in a bowl and sprinkled some salt over the top.
“Voilà,” he said. Red threw him a coy look and dug in.
“Oh my . . . God. OhmyGod.” Her eyes rolled back and she pressed both hands on the table. “Oh, Manny, honey, darling. There are not enough blow jobs in the world to thank you for this.” She stamped her heel like she was killing a cockroach. “I’m not kidding, I will fuck you into an early grave, I swear I will.”
“There is one way you can thank me,” he said, cocking his head.
“Anything you want, baby. I’m yours,” she said through a mouthful of rice, parting her robe and shimmying her still buoyant breasts. “Name it.”
Manny wiped his mouth and folded the napkin across his lap, then leveled his eyes on Red. “I need you to help me find Kit.”
She stopped chewing and went still. “Sorry, I don’t know where she is, Manny.” She held up both hands. “Haven’t seen her. Hide nor hair, Manny, I swear.”
“You don’t need to lie,” he said. “I saw the letter.”
Red folded her arms over her chest and shook her head like there were flies in her face. “No, no, no. I don’t know shit, the letter just showed up one day, ages ago. She didn’t say where, and she never wrote again.”
“Look,” Manny said, trying to keep his voice tame. “I’m not gonna hurt her, I just miss her. That’s all. I don’t blame her for leaving me, I don’t blame her for any of it. I’m the one who needs to apologize. I can’t live knowing how I hurt her, so I need to see her. Can you understand that?”
Red was crying now. With shaking hands she held a cigarette to her lips and searched the room for a light. Manny went to the stove and turned on an electric burner.
“Here’s the thing,” he said, the rage moving him to hasty words. He was trying to be cool, but nothing got under his skin like being misunderstood. “I ask for one thing, one thing so I can get on with my life. You let me in and now I know where your sisters live and all their little progeny and now I may have to tell them why you never show up for Christmas. And you know that’s not all I’ll do, but I’m hoping it won’t have to get that far, okay?”
Red’s face was dripping with tears and snot. “That’s evil, Manny. I knew you were a sonofabitch, but I didn’t think you’d be that cruel to old Red.” She started to look around the room, and Manny suspected she was searching for a weapon.
“It’s in the letter,” Red said. “She found her aunt. She told me once, but I can’t remember the name of that town she lives in. Armadillo Bend or some shit, okay?”
He pressed his foot against the chair she was sitting on and sent her flying back, whacking her head against the floor. Her bathrobe flew open, and she snaked around, emaciated, pathetic. She rasped out some cries. Then she pushed herself up, drew her chair up to the table, and sat back down.