Rachel cornered the kid with the buckteeth in a smoky corner. She dug in her pocket and gave him six dimes and a penny. He gawked at her in silence while she deposited the coins through the slit on the plastic lid. He didn’t say a word when she snatched the coffee can from his hands.
“Let me help you out, kid.” Rachel tucked the can under her arm, made sure no one was looking. “I’m the prettiest girl here.” At this, he nodded. “I bet I can get way more money than you.” The kid continued to stare in shock, until she shooed him away. In the bathroom, she covered the can with paper towels, buried it at the bottom of the wastebasket. Thirty dollars and ninety-four cents, sixty-one of which came from her. She stuffed her pockets with the cash. She had earned this money.
When she returned to the dance floor, a group of volunteer firemen dared to enter the circle, and the most barrel-chested asked them to leave.
“No,” said Rachel. “I paid for tickets.”
“I’ll give you your money back,” he said. “You’re causing a scene. The judge sent me over here.”
Rachel tossed her hair and laughed. She pointed at a short fireman with a long beard. “I fucked him,” she said. She twirled, pointed at one of the Applehaus boys. “And I fucked him. And his brother.” She blew the barrel-chested fireman a kiss. “Sorry you missed out.”
“My brother is a cop,” said the barrel-chested fireman. “He’s right over there.”
“Fine.” Rachel pretended to look around the fire hall. “I’d like to report the Applehaus boys for child molestation.”
“You aren’t a child!” The older Applehaus stepped forward. He was recently married, and furious. “You were never a child!”
Krystal wheeled into the middle of the circle. Somewhere, somehow, she had been given roller skates. “They’re here,” she called out, executing a perfect barrel roll. Krystal continued her impressive orbits. She crouched down on her skates and stopped herself with her hands. She beckoned Rachel over to a fire engine, out of sight from the left side of the fire hall.
“They’re here,” she repeated, one roller skate remained in the air, wheels continuing to spin.
Rachel peeped through the truck window, and there was her mother and Red Mabel. Ginger was sobbing to them, and Red Mabel craned her neck, ready to seek and destroy. Rachel could barely see her mother’s outfit through the warp of the glass, but it seemed to be all shoulder pads and severe waistline. Laverna had lost weight.
* * *
Bolting out into the February gales, they leaped into the Datsun, Krystal taking the time to turn on the heat, because her socks were frozen.
“GO!” Rachel reached over and pulled the gearshift into reverse, but Krystal was too addled, and the car lurched backward, nearly clipping Ginger’s brand-new Mazda RX-7. Screaming with joy, they tore out of the parking lot, although the velocity was unnecessary. The Dirty Shame was only two blocks away.
Krystal parked in the snowy alley, and they dashed to the back door of the bar. Rachel prayed her mother was still cheap and had not changed the locks. Krystal jumped from one foot to the other, her socks soaking with snow. Rachel kept her key from her weekend shifts, and the door opened easily. The good fortune continued, as a train barreled through town, would cover up any noise.
Krystal kept an eye on her watch, as Rachel crawled behind the bar, just in case anybody walked past and peered into the window. There was a twinge in Rachel’s heart, as she opened the safe. The combination was unchanged—Rachel’s birthday—09/27/64.
“Hurry up!” Krystal wiped at her nose and tapped on her watch. Rachel began removing stacks of bills, stuffed them into a zippered vinyl pouch. There was a crashing sound, and Rachel swore and dove to the floor.
They had not been caught. Krystal had smashed the mirror behind the bar, throwing shot glasses as hard as she could.
“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, KRYSTAL!” Rachel could not stop her. There wasn’t enough time, and Krystal was coked out of her mind. Rachel dug in the back of the safe for the rolls of quarters. She was determined to leave nothing behind, empty her mother completely. The envelope was too full to zip, and Rachel kicked shut the safe and leaped to her feet.
One piece of mirror remained in the frame, and Krystal had apparently decided it was the perfect size for a message. Rachel wanted to punch her but settled for grabbing Krystal by the hair. The Neon Orchid lipstick flew out of Krystal’s hand, pink and gooey and smashed from scrawling on the mirror. Rachel watched helplessly as the uncapped tube rolled under the jukebox, but remembered that Laverna never cleaned under there anyway.
The piece of mirror hung right behind the cash register.
LAVERNA AND RED MABEL ARE LESBEANS.
Krystal found this hysterically funny, and Rachel yanked her through the bar as quickly as possible, careful to avoid the shards of glass. Krystal was shoeless. And a shitty speller. In the Datsun, as they spun out in the snow, Rachel hoped that this message would be a red herring. The only prize Rachel had ever won came in the fifth grade, and Laverna had been there to witness her daughter crowned the county spelling bee champion.
* * *