K. Randis - Spilled Milk

“He didn’t buy any of that, did he?”

“No, he didn’t.”

The front door flung open and Adam waved a newspaper in my face. “What’s this?”

“Oh, it’s okay Adam-”

“It’s okay? It’s NOT okay!” He shouted.

“No it’s fine, I already saw-”

“Yea, you and the whole town saw. Or read. Or whatever.” The newspaper hit the ground with a loud thwack as he looked up at me. “I’m tired of this, tired of being talked about and having our business in the paper all the time, all the damn time.”

“Stop yelling, Adam who’s talking about you?”

“Everyone! Not everyone is straight A superstar Miss Popular like you. We all didn’t have friends that would back us up about this, I had to listen to the names and the rumors about you and our family. People are sick, they’re twisted.”

“People are sick, you can’t let it get to you though. Come on, you really think people didn’t say things to me?”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore.” He turned on his heel and headed for the front door as I looked at Jason who appeared just as confused as I was.

“And you know what?” He stopped at the door, a shaking hand on the knob. “You always got what you wanted. You were always the favorite. I’m glad that stuff happened to you. You deserved to have your perfect life flipped upside down for once.”

“Hey!” Jason lunged after Adam as he disappeared inside. “Don’t you dare say that-”

“Jason, stop!” He skidded to a halt in my grip.

“Are you kidding me? Did you hear what he just said?”

“Yea, I heard.”

“You’re gonna let him get away with that?”

“He’s hurting Jason. Just leave him.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sank into the porch swing.

“We’re all hurting.”

Heather was enraged when I told her about the letters. “How did he, I mean where...” She grunted into the phone. “All right look, can you bring me one of those letters? I’m getting to the bottom of this.”

“Yea I can but Heather, you don’t need to. I know you’re probably swamped. I just wanted to let you guys know about it.”

“Nonsense. Bring me a letter or two.”

When I hung up Jason was sprawled across the couch in his boxers flipping through channels. “Can we just try and pretend we’re normal for one weekend? Maybe barricade the doors shut or something?”

“You wanna do that to keep other people out or me in here?” I teased.

“Both.” He grabbed my wrist and dragged me onto him, kissing my neck.

“Yea that’s what I thought,” I said, laughing. “Okay so here’s some normal life for ya. What bills are we going to pay next week, because we sure don’t have the money to pay all of them.”

He dragged a hand across his face. “Ugh, okay well rent is paid, groceries are done?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. I guess pay the cell phone, we need to communicate with the outside world somehow.”

“So no electric?”

“They can’t shut it off anyway. Winter time laws, remember?”

“Yea.” I melted off of him and onto the cushion to his right. “Have you thought about what we talked about?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not much to think about. You have a stripper college friend who’s recruiting more stripper college friends and you think it’d be a good idea.”

“The money would be a good idea. And not stripper, really, dancer. We’re not allowed to be naked since they serve alcohol in the club.”

“Right. Dancer.”

“Your sarcasm is noted.”

“Really it’s up to you.” He leaned forward and put his chin in his hands. “Your body, your call. If you think it’ll be worth it, you know I’ll support you.”

“I don’t think we have a choice.” I pointed to the stack of bills piled across the room. “You can’t do more than the seventy hours a week you already work. I can’t work more than thirty with my full course load. My mom needs two hundred dollars, and-”

“Can you explain to me, again,” he said, touching the side of his head, “Why we can’t even pay our own bills, but you’re paying your moms?”

“She needs it. It’s my fault he’s not there anymore.”

I went to get up off the couch and Jason reached up and pulled me back down. “Come here, I didn’t mean it like that. I just, ugh I wish you didn’t have such a big heart sometimes.”

He play tackled me to the ground when I stuck my tongue out at him.

It turns out I wasn’t the only one giving my mom money every month. My aunts and uncles had pooled together to ensure most of her bills were covered. After a short while life kicked in and their own families, understandably, became their priorities. Mom started to look for money in other places, namely my brothers and sister.

Since I was the only one who had moved out of the house, she started charging them a hundred dollars a week rent. I was also the only one putting myself through college, and their retail and manual labor jobs only went so far. I started working at Twisters as a dancer to make up the money mom fell short on.

I was terrified the first night I walked into the dressing room. A lot of the girls walked around naked as they changed their outfits and I immediately noticed I was the youngest one there. “You got I.D?” A red haired scrawny woman with a mole on her left cheek eyed me up and down. “I need I.D before you can start.”

It was simple enough. Get up on the stage, dance around, walk through the lounge and talk to the guys there between dances. Some guy paid me fifty dollars to talk to him, and only him, for a half hour. Another guy gave me a twenty to sit and have a drink with him. I always bought an energy drink to hide the fact I couldn’t drink yet.

The back room is where I made bank almost every time. Every guy had a story. Divorcee, mid life crisis, bachelor party, hates his life, bored. The back room was a rounded purple dome room with submissive lighting that bounced off plush couches that lined the wall. Mirrors were everywhere you looked. A beefy security guard stood at the doorway to protect the hands-off policy.

The first time I saw the room was because a guy paid me a hundred dollars just to go back there because I was insisting I didn’t want to. I didn’t know a thing about lap dances, and no one in there looked like they wanted to teach me. The guy was young, maybe late twenties, clean cut and I liked his cologne. He had come in with two other guys his age and they were floating money around to all the girls like it was candy.

I straddled him and rocked my hips at first, pushing off of the couch. I stood up and awkwardly asked him what he thought I should do.

“Jesus, you’ve really never done this before?”

I shook my head and he patted the couch next to him. “Me either. My buddies are regulars but I appreciate my money too much to throw it away. No offense. Sit, talk with me.”

“None taken.”

“So uh, your eyes are pretty clear.” He studied my face. “Your body is way too hot to have had any children and you look like you’re about to cry when guys call you over. What’s the deal?”

The body guard gave me a confused look as the time this guy paid for ticked away.

“College. Need the money.”

“Ah, I see.” He sipped his Corona. “You don’t belong here.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t belong in here. You seem different.”

“You’re telling me? But the money’s good.”

“How good?”

“Almost four hundred a night.”

“Four hundred a night?”

“Five now that I got you back here.”

We laughed and the guard pointed to a neon clock above the door. “Time’s up pal.”