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But noith NeverGonnaWinMillions taking his sweet jolly ti on a new card, slowly filling in circles, the scratch of lead driving me I’ll-kill-you-now crazy, I can think of all sorts of ways to use that tool How the fourteen accompaniments could complement the nine knives in a variety of he’ll-screahten on reflex, and I feel the ice crea in my hot hands and this furnace of a store Motherfucker If this jackpot-chaser costs ht now
I clear estive action that prompts no response whatsoever Scratch Scribble He pauses, looks up to the ceiling as if he is trying to reh as loudly as hu it would take to sever his pencil-gripping hand with the baby saw enclosed in that Leatherman I move closer and crouch to tie my shoes, the act an excuse to exa in the harness, could be pulled out with one quick snatch Flipped open so the sharp needles of the pliers are exposed My fingers twitch around the candy If I yank it out it’ll take a moment for hih?
I step back as the htens and pushes his scratch card forward Thank God I release a shaky breath and htly as I spend amyself My weakness Weakness that al his ticket in his back pocket and nodding to the cashier, his steps relaxed as he steps toward the door My eyes try for one limpse at the Leather on the lit screen beside the register, advertising in proud letters a Hundred-Million-Dollar Jackpot! I set my items on the counter
"Sorry ’bout that" The h a ht Everyone’s co "Feeling lucky?"
A, anxious to ical journey that wanders into crazy town "Sure Give ht?"
"Yep At ten The display in the ’ll show the numbers, if you’re in the area that late" He sniffs loudly, a day’s worth of snot sucking through his nose, then rips off a ticket and drops it on the counter, counting out erly scoop up hting ers I nod cheerily to JitterBoy and step off the curb, quickening my steps as I cross the street Al to remember this The roll and pitch of concrete underneath my shoes The whip of hair across my face as I cross the street The numb sensation under my palm, the soda too cold to hold, yet nowhere else to put it Ten steps Five steps Three One I juggle itehtly war into a run as I worry about my ice cream
I don’t need to worry It is perfect when I finally open the wrapper When I sit on the sill and bite into ice cream bliss, the crisp crack of an opened can of soda the perfect accoht has fully fallen, the lottodisplay blinking happily at ht Maybe this could be a ritual Saturday ice crea off camera My end-of-week celebration of non-violence
I stand, chug the rest of the soda, and toss the can Then I head back to the lights Time to work
At ten forty-five, in between chats, I wander back to thatPick up my jeans and fishmarquee and verify that, out of ten quick picks, I have not one winner Not two dollars, not two hundred million Better luck next time Maybe next week I did it, despite my hiccup I proved that I can handle it
CHAPTER 15
AT 2:18 AM Bush plays through the sound systeainst the metal desk in time to the bass The world outside is quiet, but the lines of the Internet are alive, a buzz of late-night activity Mike switches screens, fingers furious on the keys, aoccur across a thousand miles of cyberspace
Behind hi over in a bed Ja to her curves as she breathes his na twice a week, Sundays and Thursdays, are, cooks up a storm, and then settles in on the couch There they typically smoke weed, watch TV, and shoot the shit Eat Inhale Hold Exhale Laugh Repeat At some point he’ll move closer to her, throw his arh that her sink into his chest feels like a comfortable pillow One that breathes, provides comfort, smells of vanilla and woman Sometimes she’ll unzip his pants, take out his cock, and carry hih-infused nut Sometimes she won’t They’ve never fucked, never kissed, but he likes to have her She breathes life into the space, into hilances back at her, hits a few keys and turns down the ets common courtesies How others live Ja the sill evidence of their night Soon, he’ll join her Finish this up and crawl into bed Pull her against him She’ll let him She always does He likes it when she stays Likes the scent of a woman on his sheets, the huff of breath on his chest as she sleeps He wonders, for a moment, if she’d come without the money He doesn’t pay her to drink with him, suck his cock, sleep in his bed But if he didn’t es, would they still be friends? Would she stop by? Hang out?