Lindsay Hunter - Ugly Girls

“Yep,” Baby Girl said. “He wanted to meet up with both of us, but I figured that was just because he knew you wouldn’t come alone. So let’s go see him!”

Her voice was bright, as sugary as a kindergarten teacher’s. Baby Girl never talked like that. She’d even dropped the accent she’d been using for months, that deep gangsta accent she’d been perfecting for as long as Perry had been thugging with her.

“I don’t want to meet up with him,” Perry said. “I haven’t even been talking to him. I’m meeting up with Travis tomorrow. That’s who I want to meet up with.”

“I know you don’t,” Baby Girl said. “But he’s been on our asses. Fucking with us. Let’s go fuck with him. Besides, you might think he’s cute once you see him.”

“Did you hear what I said? I don’t want to go.”

“I told him we’d meet him,” Baby Girl said. “I said we’d be there.”

“If you don’t stop driving us there I’m going to jump out the next time you stop,” Perry said. She meant it, bracing her body, her fingers on the door handle.

“Please,” Baby Girl said, her voice weak, like her throat was too wet. She coughed into her hand and her voice sounded stronger when she said, “I need to show this fucker.”

Show this fucker what? Perry almost said. Only she knew. It was clear, now, that Baby Girl was hurt, she was still mad about what Perry had told her in the cell. But she needed Jamey to see that she wasn’t any of those things, that she didn’t care about him in that way, that she’d deliver her own best friend to him just to show him how little she cared.

Maybe this wasn’t a stranger beside her. Maybe this was the real Baby Girl.

“Okay,” Perry said. “We’ll go, but you ain’t leaving me there alone with him.”

“You never know,” Baby Girl said. “Maybe you’ll want me to leave you alone. Maybe you’ll beg for it.”

Baby Girl wanted her to go off with him, Perry could see now, into his backseat or farther into the woods, wanted her to act the whore. So it wasn’t just Jamey she wanted to fuck with, abandon. She wanted to leave Perry behind, too, nice and tidy.

“I won’t want that,” Perry said. She wanted to reassure Baby Girl almost as much as she wanted to scream at her. A few drops of rain hit the windshield, as fast and hard as rocks. She was being driven to meet up with that fucking weirdo in the rain, all so Baby Girl could prove to herself that she was right about them, that she was right about the world.

“So what’s the surprise you got under the seat?” Perry asked. She felt her voice getting away from her, loud and angry. “A box of condoms? You can watch since you seem so interested in us falling in love. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Baby Girl reached under her seat, brought out a gun. Perry recognized it: Charles’s gun, the one Baby Girl kept in a keepsake box under her bed. She held it pointed at Perry’s lap, her finger on the trigger.

“Surprise,” she said, her voice bright again, like it was a cake and not a gun.

“You look fucking stupid holding that,” Perry said. “If you’re trying to scare anyone it ain’t going to work.”

Baby Girl pulled the trigger. Click . Perry flinched, her body moving beyond her control. She knew it wasn’t loaded, they’d never been able to find any bullets in Charles’s room, but it was like her brain was separate from her body, and knowing the gun wasn’t loaded didn’t matter at all. Her body seized, she couldn’t move her arms if she wanted to.

“Oh shit!” Baby Girl said. She shoved the gun back under her seat, laughing. “Look how you jumped, and you even knew it wasn’t loaded! Just wait until that fucker sees it. You think he’ll shit himself?”

The accent was coming and going now, Baby Girl forcing out her laughter so hard that she was heaving. It took Perry a second to realize she wasn’t laughing no more, her heaving wheezes turning into short barks, something she’d never heard from Baby Girl before. She was crying now, her face all wet, the sobs coming out as forced and unwanted as coughs. “Oh shit,” she kept saying. “Oh shit, oh shit.”

The rain was coming down hard now, the sky dark above them and darker where they were driving to. Perry reached over and flipped on the wipers.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d talked to Jamey. She didn’t give a shit whether he liked her now, didn’t care if he wanted her. It had once seemed so important. Perry had never been ugly, not a day in her life. Knew if she wanted to she could have whoever she wanted. Sometimes she even caught herself posing just so for Jim, hoping he’d take in her curves and she’d see in his face that she was right: everyone was a starved animal. Even Baby Girl.

Even herself, she was starting to see. She was as raggedy as the whores in that cell, raw for the power she had over whoever. She was fucking tired. With the windows up the air was too close in Baby Girl’s car, she could practically smell the salt from her tears. She was sick of all of it, wanted to wake up in the morning knowing she wouldn’t be sneaking out her window for a long time, maybe ever again.

Unless it was to see Travis. The thought of tomorrow, of him, felt like a promise. This rain would eat shit and the sun would come out and she’d kiss Travis again. And she’d have made things right for Baby Girl, made peace between them so they could go their separate ways for a while.

“Okay,” Perry said, after Baby Girl had quieted. “Let’s go set that fucker straight.”

She didn’t have any idea what setting him straight meant. Maybe just showing up would be enough. And she didn’t know why she had to say anything at all. Baby Girl, through the gun and the tears and everything, had kept driving, and they were already there.

JAMEY SAW THEM DRIVE UP, he’d been watching awhile, watching until the shineless brown of Dayna’s car appeared every now and again through a break in the trees, until he could hear the engine, until they had slowed and were pulling onto the short white shoulder and parking. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the sky was still dark, and he stood under the umbrella he’d bought on the way over. Black, so he’d look mysterious. But maybe he should have just stood in the rain instead. It was tougher. When it came down to it, though, he just couldn’t risk what it might do to his hair, how it might make his clothes cling to his fleshy body.

He felt sick, like he might need to use the bathroom, but that always happened when he was excited. He knew he wasn’t an attractive man, but he’d had women before, women nearly as pretty as Perry, and he knew what he had to do to seal the deal.

He’d have to present himself like he knew his flaws, had spent a long time feeling awful about them, but had made a brave kind of peace with them. He’d have to keep his thumb over his cleft, his curled knuckles on his chin, like he was trying to come off a deep thinker, only Perry would probably see that he was actually trying to hide his deformity. Every once in a while he’d have to move that hand up to his hair, run his fingers through, so she’d see that he cared about his appearance. He’d raked a comb through his hair over and over before getting out of his momma’s car, to make sure his hand wouldn’t get caught on no knots. His other hand he’d have to keep loose at his side. Empty. So she could see he didn’t have no designs. So she could see how relaxed he was, how far from making a fist. Only what with the umbrella, he did have something in his fist, but no matter, he couldn’t see how she’d have a problem with that. He’d have to have mud splatters on his jeans cuffs, on the tips of his boots, so she could see he was a workingman, a man with a life outside of her. And he’d have to nod at her, say Hey , keep his distance, let her come to him. Some girls were huggers, but he didn’t figure Perry for one of them, and even if she was, he’d let her put her arms around him, he’d keep his own arms down and wait it out.