me. Sniff, sniff. Outside, I climb up into the high backseat of his shiny black Escalade as Tammi climbs into the passenger seat. Ken sits in the front but I don’t get a look at his mug; all I see is his cowboy hat in the glow of the hot blue dash.
“Hey, Kenneth, ” says Tammi, pouring on the sugar as if she’s meeting a boy for root beer. “We’ve been missing you too long.”
“Let me tell you about this traffic,” he says. “I’ve been up to Harlem and down to Alphabet City. Lot of orders tonight.”
“Alphabet City?” says Tammi. “Get retro! We call it the East Village now, doll.”
“Grew up on East Fifth,” says Ken. “It’ll always be Alphabet City to me.”
I remember something about East Fifth. I remember a girl there, a girl in a pink dress. If she’d been engaged to my Golden she’d be singing it from a hilltop like Maria von Trapp.
“Hey, I grew up on East Fifth Street, too,” I say. “A tenement share with handmade curtains.”
Tammi flashes me a worried grin. “That’s just silly, Val. Park Avenue doesn’t even go down to Fifth Street.”
But it’s true. All of a sudden, truth feels so good. So welcome, so new. I want to tell Ken all about East Fifth Street, I want to tell Ken about everything. “No, really. I had a roommate and she was nice. We had no money. I remember one day I found a ten-dollar bill. I went to the bodega and bought tofu, broccoli, a head of garlic, a lemon, soy sauce, and Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk. It seemed like a feast!”
“What are you on about, Val?” says Tammi. “This is so not true.”
That girl had a name. A name, a name…Sunflowers or Barley or something organic. Sniff, sniff. In the last few weeks, things have been getting away from me. Things that shouldn’t get away from me. That girl’s name. It disappears like a marble down a manhole.
“Val has been working on a crazy deadline. She’s deliriously tired,” Tammi apologizes to Ken. “She’s been working on it, like, for ever. It’ll be out in Style on Sunday. Right, Val?”
“Actually, I missed my deadline,” I say, still wondering where that name dropped.
“Oh,” says Tammi, “Well, next Sunday, then. Valerie has big stories all the time.” She adds some more sugar and stirs. I clench my fist around something, but I don’t have my vial. I’d like my vial. I wonder why it’s not in my hand.
“Val wants one, too,” says Tammi to Ken. And she says to me, “You want one, don’t you, Val?”
“Totally.” I push a sweaty wad of twenties into an outstretched hand. I don’t bother to count; I counted long ago. I’ve had the bills ready in my hands since Tammi mentioned Ken. It’s the first time I know it. That’s what’s been jabbing at my palm.
Ken takes the money and slips his hand back behind Tammi’s leather seat and hands me the tiny glass vial. I crunch it in my paw and it feels cold with soft curves, not unlike a marble. Holding my marble, the image of the girl climbing the stairs on EastFifth Street dissolves, but on goes the search for the name: Rainbow, Starshine…
Before I get out of the Escalade, I twist open the black lid of my vial and take out my keys. I hold the vial between my knees and lean to get a quick sniff.
“Hey,” barks Ken. “People can see.”
I just need a quick one. Sniff, sniff. Just one. A bump.
“Come on, Val,” says Tammi, knocking on my door. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s go back in.”
My skin smarts as soon as it hits the air. I put my arms around my shoulders, and head back in through the doors, past the bouncers, through the velvet curtain, up the stairs, past the bar, over the dance floor, through the hallway, alongside the dance floor, and back into the VIP. Even though Demi’s gone there’s a posse of paparazzi leaning on the back of our banquette. Maybe a half dozen shutterbugs. Maybe a handful of Sidney Falcos in the bunch.
Tammi is teasing them with promises of fresh meat.
“Hey, Kenneth, ” says Tammi, pouring on the sugar as if she’s meeting a boy for root beer. “We’ve been missing you too long.”
“Let me tell you about this traffic,” he says. “I’ve been up to Harlem and down to Alphabet City. Lot of orders tonight.”
“Alphabet City?” says Tammi. “Get retro! We call it the East Village now, doll.”
“Grew up on East Fifth,” says Ken. “It’ll always be Alphabet City to me.”
I remember something about East Fifth. I remember a girl there, a girl in a pink dress. If she’d been engaged to my Golden she’d be singing it from a hilltop like Maria von Trapp.
“Hey, I grew up on East Fifth Street, too,” I say. “A tenement share with handmade curtains.”
Tammi flashes me a worried grin. “That’s just silly, Val. Park Avenue doesn’t even go down to Fifth Street.”
But it’s true. All of a sudden, truth feels so good. So welcome, so new. I want to tell Ken all about East Fifth Street, I want to tell Ken about everything. “No, really. I had a roommate and she was nice. We had no money. I remember one day I found a ten-dollar bill. I went to the bodega and bought tofu, broccoli, a head of garlic, a lemon, soy sauce, and Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk. It seemed like a feast!”
“What are you on about, Val?” says Tammi. “This is so not true.”
That girl had a name. A name, a name…Sunflowers or Barley or something organic. Sniff, sniff. In the last few weeks, things have been getting away from me. Things that shouldn’t get away from me. That girl’s name. It disappears like a marble down a manhole.
“Val has been working on a crazy deadline. She’s deliriously tired,” Tammi apologizes to Ken. “She’s been working on it, like, for ever. It’ll be out in Style on Sunday. Right, Val?”
“Actually, I missed my deadline,” I say, still wondering where that name dropped.
“Oh,” says Tammi, “Well, next Sunday, then. Valerie has big stories all the time.” She adds some more sugar and stirs. I clench my fist around something, but I don’t have my vial. I’d like my vial. I wonder why it’s not in my hand.
“Val wants one, too,” says Tammi to Ken. And she says to me, “You want one, don’t you, Val?”
“Totally.” I push a sweaty wad of twenties into an outstretched hand. I don’t bother to count; I counted long ago. I’ve had the bills ready in my hands since Tammi mentioned Ken. It’s the first time I know it. That’s what’s been jabbing at my palm.
Ken takes the money and slips his hand back behind Tammi’s leather seat and hands me the tiny glass vial. I crunch it in my paw and it feels cold with soft curves, not unlike a marble. Holding my marble, the image of the girl climbing the stairs on EastFifth Street dissolves, but on goes the search for the name: Rainbow, Starshine…
Before I get out of the Escalade, I twist open the black lid of my vial and take out my keys. I hold the vial between my knees and lean to get a quick sniff.
“Hey,” barks Ken. “People can see.”
I just need a quick one. Sniff, sniff. Just one. A bump.
“Come on, Val,” says Tammi, knocking on my door. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s go back in.”
My skin smarts as soon as it hits the air. I put my arms around my shoulders, and head back in through the doors, past the bouncers, through the velvet curtain, up the stairs, past the bar, over the dance floor, through the hallway, alongside the dance floor, and back into the VIP. Even though Demi’s gone there’s a posse of paparazzi leaning on the back of our banquette. Maybe a half dozen shutterbugs. Maybe a handful of Sidney Falcos in the bunch.
Tammi is teasing them with promises of fresh meat.
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