else. Gabby .”
“They named you after a nickname? Cruel move.”
“Go to hell.”
“You’re pissed.”
“Yes! I’m pissed. We had a good night – Jesus , did we have a good night – and now you wake up and you’re just being mean.”
Miriam scooches to the edge of the bed. Looks for her panties. Spies them on the ground in a little black pile. “I should go.”
“I guess you should.”
Miriam grabs her panties with her toes like a primate, then begins pulling them up over her hips. “I’m not trying to piss on your parade and call it rain. Before I walked into that rum bar, I was having a strange night. You caught me when I was vulnerable. I’m not good people.”
Gabby makes a sound like she just ate a spoonful of salt when she thought she was getting sugar. “Really? You’re one of those?”
“One of those what?”
“Those types.”
“Those types of what ?”
“Girls. Women. Who…who think they’re all damaged and broken and they’re anxious or depressed and so they just… inflict themselves on other people. Ugh! You let them in and everything seems cool but then comes the excuses, the I’m not worth it , the I’m bad for you, Gabby. So sorry, thanks for the quick lay –” She rolls her head back on her neck and groans. “Stupid! So stupid, Gabby. Jesus.”
“I am bad for other people. At this point I think it’s scientifically proven.” She mutters, “I’m sure it’s on the Internet somewhere.”
Gabby flops back on the bed. From behind her hands she moans, “Another one. I found another one. Why am I always attracted to your type?” She buries her face under the pillow.
Miriam sits back down on the edge of the bed. Gets her jeans halfway up her legs and then just sits there. Staring off at an unfixed point a thousand miles away. Guilt and shame make a bitter cocktail inside her. She finishes pulling on her jeans and she goes over to Gabby and pries the pillow off the other woman’s head.
“I’m sorry you think I’m mean.”
“Worst kind of apology ever. It puts the blame on me. It says I should really be the one apologizing to you for… misinterpreting what was obviously a loving gesture.”
“Fine. I’m sorry I was mean.”
“OK. Great. Awesome. You can go now.”
But Miriam hovers. “It’s been a while.”
“Been a while since what?”
“Since–” She gesticulates over the bed in all its sex-rumpled grandeur. “Since this.”
“Since you got some.”
“Almost got into it with this dude last year–” But he turned out to be one of a whole nest of serial killers. “But that did not work out.”
“A dude. Oh. So, I’m your first woman.”
“What? Hey. No. You’re not the first love-puddle in which I’ve snorkeled. Though, ah, it’s been a few years.”
“You’re not gay.”
“No. I like to think I’m loosey-goosey–”
“You’re a straight girl on a gay vacation.”
“Jiggling Jesus, don’t be so dramatic, it’s called being flexible –”
“You’re just renting out my pussy like it’s a vacation home.”
“Oh, come on, ‘renting out’–”
Wham. It hits her. Vacation home. Rental. Duh. Duh . Whoever is messing with her rented that house on Torch Key. Which she already knew. All she has to do is contact the people who rented it out and find out to whom they rented it – easy-peasy titty-squeezy.
“I gotta go,” Miriam says.
“And now you run away.”
“No, this isn’t… It’s not… This isn’t you , this is something else, this is a problem I maybe just figured out. Someone’s messing with me, and I don’t like it.”
“I know the feeling. So go.”
“I’ll call you.”
“You don’t even have my number!”
But Miriam doesn’t hear her because she’s already out the door, darting toward the Fiero.
INTERLUDE
NOW
“ That’s when you got pulled over,” Grosky says.
Miriam gives a half shrug. “Not exactly. The fucking car died on me ten minutes out of Key West. I paraded
“They named you after a nickname? Cruel move.”
“Go to hell.”
“You’re pissed.”
“Yes! I’m pissed. We had a good night – Jesus , did we have a good night – and now you wake up and you’re just being mean.”
Miriam scooches to the edge of the bed. Looks for her panties. Spies them on the ground in a little black pile. “I should go.”
“I guess you should.”
Miriam grabs her panties with her toes like a primate, then begins pulling them up over her hips. “I’m not trying to piss on your parade and call it rain. Before I walked into that rum bar, I was having a strange night. You caught me when I was vulnerable. I’m not good people.”
Gabby makes a sound like she just ate a spoonful of salt when she thought she was getting sugar. “Really? You’re one of those?”
“One of those what?”
“Those types.”
“Those types of what ?”
“Girls. Women. Who…who think they’re all damaged and broken and they’re anxious or depressed and so they just… inflict themselves on other people. Ugh! You let them in and everything seems cool but then comes the excuses, the I’m not worth it , the I’m bad for you, Gabby. So sorry, thanks for the quick lay –” She rolls her head back on her neck and groans. “Stupid! So stupid, Gabby. Jesus.”
“I am bad for other people. At this point I think it’s scientifically proven.” She mutters, “I’m sure it’s on the Internet somewhere.”
Gabby flops back on the bed. From behind her hands she moans, “Another one. I found another one. Why am I always attracted to your type?” She buries her face under the pillow.
Miriam sits back down on the edge of the bed. Gets her jeans halfway up her legs and then just sits there. Staring off at an unfixed point a thousand miles away. Guilt and shame make a bitter cocktail inside her. She finishes pulling on her jeans and she goes over to Gabby and pries the pillow off the other woman’s head.
“I’m sorry you think I’m mean.”
“Worst kind of apology ever. It puts the blame on me. It says I should really be the one apologizing to you for… misinterpreting what was obviously a loving gesture.”
“Fine. I’m sorry I was mean.”
“OK. Great. Awesome. You can go now.”
But Miriam hovers. “It’s been a while.”
“Been a while since what?”
“Since–” She gesticulates over the bed in all its sex-rumpled grandeur. “Since this.”
“Since you got some.”
“Almost got into it with this dude last year–” But he turned out to be one of a whole nest of serial killers. “But that did not work out.”
“A dude. Oh. So, I’m your first woman.”
“What? Hey. No. You’re not the first love-puddle in which I’ve snorkeled. Though, ah, it’s been a few years.”
“You’re not gay.”
“No. I like to think I’m loosey-goosey–”
“You’re a straight girl on a gay vacation.”
“Jiggling Jesus, don’t be so dramatic, it’s called being flexible –”
“You’re just renting out my pussy like it’s a vacation home.”
“Oh, come on, ‘renting out’–”
Wham. It hits her. Vacation home. Rental. Duh. Duh . Whoever is messing with her rented that house on Torch Key. Which she already knew. All she has to do is contact the people who rented it out and find out to whom they rented it – easy-peasy titty-squeezy.
“I gotta go,” Miriam says.
“And now you run away.”
“No, this isn’t… It’s not… This isn’t you , this is something else, this is a problem I maybe just figured out. Someone’s messing with me, and I don’t like it.”
“I know the feeling. So go.”
“I’ll call you.”
“You don’t even have my number!”
But Miriam doesn’t hear her because she’s already out the door, darting toward the Fiero.
INTERLUDE
NOW
“ That’s when you got pulled over,” Grosky says.
Miriam gives a half shrug. “Not exactly. The fucking car died on me ten minutes out of Key West. I paraded
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