Sandy returned to her napkin rolling, carrying some secret like a banner. “For what she did to your dad and all.”
Charlie stood up, confused anger sweeping over her, breaking across her skin like hives. “You know I have a half a million nasty things I could say to you but won’t because it ain’t worth it. But I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you manufacture gossip because you’ve got nothing better to do than swing your braid and moon over anything with a pecker.”
Sandy pantomimed zipping her lips. “Geez, forget I said anything,” she said. “It’s just, if I were you, I’d want to know.”
Charlie pivoted to face the door but didn’t advance. She realized not knowing would be worse.
“I don’t have a dad, and you know that as well as I do,” Charlie said.
Sandy gave her a pitying sort of look. “Listen, Charlie, I know, okay? About Manny?”
“How the hell—” Charlie started. Something collapsed in her middle. She felt like the news about her father had been cheapened by Sandy knowing, too.
“All right,” Charlie said without turning. “I’ll bite. What all did she do to my so-called dad, allegedly?”
Sandy leaned forward, seemingly delighted to bear the news.
“She went and kidnapped you from him,” she said and pursed her sliver-thin lips in smug triumph.
Charlie laughed, a horn blown, to show that she wouldn’t fall so easily for such drivel. It was just like Sandy to insert herself in the middle of a juicy drama. What irked her almost as much as the possibility that the news was true was the hungry smile on Sandy’s face when she was telling it. And yet a germ of doubt took hold at the base of Charlie’s gut.
“And where are you getting this from? You been smoking some of your mama’s crack?” She winced at the ugliness of her own words. She felt even worse when Sandy brushed off the insult like she’d heard it a thousand times before.
“Honest to God,” Sandy said, hand raised like a pledge. “Manny told me. He didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want to turn you against your mama. But he told me the whole story. It’s a cryin’ shame. Says they were young and hungry, and she ripped off a gas station or something, and when she came back with the money, he wouldn’t have it. Says he ripped the bag outta her hands and marched that money inside to give it right back to the people what she stole it from. But by then the police had put him in cuffs and your mama had up and gone, took his car and his baby and disappeared into thin air.” Sandy flushed and panted with the thrill of it and pulled the braid off her neck, swirled it into a bun, and let it fall back down. “Manny didn’t want to shame her around town, so he’s never told anyone else the true story. But he told it to me. And I thought you should hear it, too.”
Charlie held Sandy’s gaze as the story sped past her, the questions flying up before her like startled birds. What was Sandy doing talking to Manny? Why was Sandy the first to know that Manny was her father? Could her mother really have done those awful things? Her head felt like it was splitting with the pressure of all these revelations. For now, she had to get the fuck out of this diner. She spat on the floor at Sandy’s feet and walked a straight line out the door.
Charlie kept her eyes pinned to the ground in front of her, tears making swirls of the pavement. Though she intended to keep walking until her mind cleared up, she hadn’t picked a direction and found herself marching a wide loop around the cluster of buildings at the town’s center. As she completed the circle around the back of the diner she got the feeling she was being watched. Then there was the sound of comments under breath, snickering. She knew before she turned toward the sound that someone was making fun of her.
There was a three-man huddle by a stack of milk crates. One had hog-pink skin, reddish hair that stuck to his forehead, and reddish fuzz over his lip. Another was skinny and so hunched he was C-shaped, as if he were draped over a barrel. He wore a knit cap pulled over his ears, though it was hot and humid as an armpit, and drank a tallboy from a paper bag. The third man had his back to her, but she could tell from the fatty hips and his butcher’s hands that it was Dirk. Dirk, who she’d been looking for, who she’d sought out to share the unimaginable news of her father, who she hoped could help her feel better about Sandy’s ugly rumor.
Charlie had so hoped to see Dirk that she did not immediately jump to the conclusion that he was making fun of her. Maybe they hadn’t seen her. Maybe they were yukking about something else. She stuck out her hand and waved.
“Hey you,” she said loudly enough to cut through the sounds of their mumbling. “I was just thinking about you.” I was just thinking about you? She could have punched herself for how desperate that sounded. And when Dirk looked over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows without saying anything back, she could have punched him, too.
The guy in the cap whistled a lewd sound. The redhead was looking at her with a snaggletoothed grin; Dirk’s eyes were on his feet. It stank back here, a fishy smell of old fry oil and garbage juice that dripped from the cracks in the dumpster. Nothing good was going on.
“What’s your damage, dude?” she said. “Too cool to say hello?”
“What’s up, Walker?” he said, still not meeting her eyes. He was shifty as hell. Was he high? She had never seen these creeps before, definitely not from town. Dirk took a swig of beer, crumpled the can in his fist, and tossed it in the dumpster. The redhead pulled another tallboy from a backpack that was slumped against the milk crates, cracked it open, took a long foamy slurp, and handed it to Dirk.
“So are these your fucking dealers or are you just giving out blow jobs?” she said, pissed. Dirk shook his head and rolled his eyes. The C-shaped guy took it personally and puffed out his chest.
“What you fucking say, bitch?” he said. He talked like he was street, but he didn’t look that tough.
The redhead bit his lip and cocked his head. “What do you know about giving head, li’l mama?”
“I know your mom gives it up for free,” she said. The two guys stepped toward her. She was ready to run or fight.
Dirk looked uneasy. He pushed the guys back and left the circle, taking Charlie by the arm. He led her around the corner of the diner. “Look,” he said. He glanced left and right like he was making sure no one was listening. “I had fun with you the other night. Okay? But we can’t hang out anymore.”
“Why not?” she said, already feeling like she could cry, willing herself not to.
“Do you seriously not know?” he said. He scratched his blond hair sideways. “Your mom busted in my trailer like a goddamn hurricane looking for you the other night. Mama said she looked ready to kill somebody. Pretty sure that somebody was me.”
“She fuckin’ what?” Charlie snapped. She didn’t need another reason to be mortified by her mom.