“Seriously,” he said, “I found this cool place near here . . .”
Several minutes later, for some illogical reason, I rose from my seat and followed Batman out the door. He grabbed a messenger bag as we passed the booth he’d been working from. Attached to it was a well-loved skateboard. I left a ballroom of universe masters to hang with some lunatic and only minutes later was standing in my wool navy suit in ninety-degree weather in a skatepark in Las Vegas. I didn’t care that I hadn’t dressed for the occasion, that I was wearing pumps with heels meant for a woman sitting at a desk or propped against a bar. I didn’t care that this guy could be insane. I just liked being my version of irresponsible; away from everyone who knew me, away from people who knew that my fiancé dumped me, that I was unable to eat like a normal person, and that all I did was work and swim. There was nobody at Doc Romeo Park who felt sorry for me.
At first Batman lent me his giant skater sneakers, which were so big my ankles did U-turns in them. Then I tried skateboarding in my heels, which the twelve-year-olds surrounding us, our fellow skaters, all needed to watch. I finally gave up on footwear and rode barefoot and bareheaded, ’cause while Bruce Wayne’s feet were big, his helmet was too small. I have a huge head.
“Is all that cash your drug money?” he asked.
“What cash?” I said. Some little kid had lent me his wood, which I had just learned was skater-talk for board, so Bruce and I were then skating side by side, while the sole of my pushing foot burned with the heat of the asphalt and the friction of each push. Self-inflicted pain felt good to me recently, like it was some designer brand of cutting oneself. I knew I had to stop doing things like this to myself, hurting myself, but wasn’t sure how.
“Those ten-dollar bills all over your bag.”
“Oh”—I shrugged—“it’s from lap dancing. Those are my tips.”
Bruce pretended to fall off his board. “No, seriously.”
“They’re tips, but tips for other people. I like to be prepared.”
“You mean you carry cash around just to hand to anyone who needs a tip? Someone who is nice to you? I can be nice.”
I smiled. “I can’t stand how when in a big hotel everyone tips the person who cleans your room or bartends but then you see the bent lady scrubbing down the lobby bathroom and nobody tips her ’cause it’s just not the usual point of interaction, or the guy who has to dust all the floorboards or the man who has to separate the garbage.”
“Wait, you tip the floorboard-dusting guy?”
“People don’t even notice him. It makes me sad.”
“Are you from some long line of cleaning people or something?” he joked, and I was silent.
“You are.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just notice people. I see their faces. I think of their stories. Their jobs suck. They don’t want to be there. I love my job. You probably love yours too.”
“So you think of their stories and then give them money? I don’t get it.”
I sighed.
“Fuck me, I’m an ass. I do get it. You make a lot of dough and you feel bad about it. That was guilt money I saw.”
“The tips are to tell them they aren’t invisible and that I appreciate the clean wooden moldings and that they’ll get a better job soon. It’s nothing more than that.” I skated off, leaving him behind.
“Hey, I don’t believe you never rode a skateboard before,” he yelled after me. “Nobody skates like that her first day out.”
I hadn’t exactly lied to Bruce, but I hadn’t told him I was a decent snowboarder and a lot of the movement is the same. I didn’t tell him because some part of me wanted to impress him, wanted to actually flirt with a guy I had absolutely nothing in common with.
I climbed a staircase to get ready to drop into a half-pipe. Something was overpowering me. I felt a ridiculous high from the danger while Bruce just stood with folded hands, either daring me or incredulous that I would do something so stupid. I had no business being on a half-pipe, with no shoes, no helmet, and on a little kid’s board, but I felt nothing but brave and something bordering euphoric. Batman wasn’t so sure.
“Not sure you should take this your first day out.”
The boys had lined up to watch.
“Don’t give in to peer pressure,” Bruce continued. “Twelve-year-old dudes are not your peers.”
“Whatever,” I said, “I live in New York,” as if this actually meant I was badass or something.
“Well, you want to drop into this one fast and then move horizontally to slow your speed.” Batman looked generally concerned. I’d done this in the snow. I was about to blow his mind.