“This better not turn into a barf-o-rama,” Razor says.
Steel laughs, “I’m outta here, it’s all your problem if it does.”
“Like fuck, at least get me the hose.”
Razor stops the ride, and I stand well out of the way while they unload it. Even where I am, the acrid smell of puke poisons the air.
They unload the twins last. It takes several minutes to unload and load the ride, and the twins must be desperate to get out of their little puke-coated cage.
“Oh, fuck,” Steel says, shielding his face with the crook of his arm in an exaggerated way. Both him and Razor mock puke, and walk away from the car while the twins get out.
Everyone in the line is either laughing or gagging at the puke-covered twins.
“I can’t even remember the last time we had a puker, you two sure ain’t tough. You want us to hose your down?” Steel says, laughing.
The twins don’t even look at him, instead they look like the walking dead as they make their way from the ride.
Razor turns on the hose and starts spraying out the pod.
Steel meshes his hand through mine, and says, “Let’s get something to eat.”
“I’ve lost my appetite, thanks.”
“It was worth it though, right?”
I chuckle and say, “Maybe. Those assholes had it coming.”
One (Steel)
It’s the start of July, and we’re still in Mississippi. We’ve been weaving around, hitting all the little towns Papa Smurf arranged to get us a weekend in. It seems like we’re going to be in this sweat-box of a state all summer.
Emily doesn’t seem to mind though. Even after four months, she’s still fresh with the excitement of being in the carnival.
Cess says she’s a real natural at getting men to play their game. Can’t say I’m surprised one bit. She just has to flash that pretty smile and let her blue eyes twinkle, and they start digging into their pockets for a chance to impress her.
I’m lying in bed awake, coated in sweat even in the middle of the night. Emily’s beside me, sleeping on her back like a baby. Propping myself up on my elbows, I examine her.
All the curtains are wide open to let as much breeze through the open windows as possible. The light from outside outlines her face. I still can’t believe I wake up next to such a beautiful woman every day. More than that, I can’t believe I want to.
For the past nine months, I’ve had scantily dressed townies throwing themselves at me, begging me for a piece of action. The whole idea of touching someone else turns my stomach. I’m not interested. Not a single one has remotely tempted me.
No, this woman right here is the only one I want. The one who’s more than just a pretty face with crazy long legs I love feeling wrapped around me.
Unable to resist any longer, I brush my fingers down the side of her cheeks and along her neck. I bend down and kiss her forehead. Emily shifts her body, and half opens her eyes.
My intention wasn’t to wake her up, just touch her to make sure she’s real.
“What’re you doing?” she asks.
“Nothing. Just lying here and thinking about how lucky I am to have you next to me.”
Emily’s mouth turns up in a sleepy smile, her eyelids heavy.
“You just want sex.”
“I don’t. It’s too hot for that, it must be a hundred degrees in this tin can.”
“We should pay to get the air conditioning working.”
“Too expensive, we only do that if it goes up another twenty degrees.”
“Then go to sleep.”
I chew the inside of my lip, trying to find a way to tell what I can’t get out of my mind lately. I’m not good with this stuff, I’ve never had to deal with it, with feelings, before.
Lying flat, I wrap my arm over her and pull her tight to me. My heart’s hammering against my chest, but I’ve got to tell her. I have to.
“You’ve changed me, Goldie,” I say, forcing the words out my throat.
Emily’s eyes open, and she turns her head to look at me. In the dim light, our eyes lock together.
“How?” she says, her voice a whisper.
“In about every way possible,” I say and swallow.
“You’ve changed me, too,” she says. “I was such a little kid when you found me. Now I feel like a normal adult, one with an amazing man at my side.”
“I kind of feel like you did the same thing to me.” She has made me grow up. I’d never wanted to be an adult before, I only ever wanted to play at my job, my women, everything.
“It’s lots of fun living in this trailer with you. Even if it is an oven,” she says, all trace of sleepiness gone from her voice.
“Hope you don’t see this as slumming it.” Papa Smurf keeps warning me that rich girls like her go through a phase of playing poor with a man, out of curiosity and rebellion.