Delicious Tacos - Finally, Some Good News

You still got a broken heart for that Stacey?

Fuck Stacey.

Stacey was from the side of town with horses. She had one for dressage and one for barrel racing, and she let you know it. Sang in the choir. Her family went to church twice a week.

You wish, said Ricky, and Steve laughed.

The treehouse was three stories tall. It was made out of plywood covered in old walnut color deck stain. Two by fours with the ends painted red nailed into three pine trees that bled sap around the nail heads. Window holes with nothing in them. Inside, the walls had pages from porno magazines tacked up. Oui, Swank and Cheri. Women on all fours, spines bent into C shapes so their face and crotch could both regard the camera, looking surprised. Their faces looked ancient to her. The men’s intent expressions made her laugh. They sat Indian style. Is this your first beer, said Ricky.

It’s my third

I don’t mean today

I’ve had sips of my dad’s before–

But this is the first time you’re feeling it.

Yes

You like it?

She did. She said so. It made her feel like she could make anyone like her.

Bryan should have told you not to wear nice clothes, these fucking trees get pitch all over the place.

They’re beautiful– shortleaf pines.

I’ve been coming here since I was a kid. Never knew what they were.

There was a fire here, she said. A long time ago. They need it to grow. Otherwise they’re outcompeted by other conifers–

Damn, Nature Channel.

Each tree has both male and female cones. See how there are different kinds? It can take a year for the female cones to be pollinated–

Haha, so they can fuck themselves–

Plants had mechanisms to prevent self-pollination, but she didn’t say so. She said yes and laughed. He laughed too and it felt like she was floating. Hey Bryan come here, said Ricky.

What, said Bryan, and stood up.

You like these trees too, huh?

Yeah they’re nice.

You like camping in the woods?

Yeah–

You got a sleeping bag?

Ye– Bryan started to say, and Ricky punched him underhand in the crotch, and said: not anymore. Steve started laughed like it was the funniest thing that ever was.

Bryan was twisted over panting with his shoulder pulling a Swank centerfold off the wall. She rubbed his back in his black flannel and felt his little muscles moving. Are you OK. I’m fine he said, I’ll be fine. He does this. Relax, said Ricky. We do this shit all the time.

They finished the case. It felt like it took as long as a movie. She had never felt this good. Sat next to Bryan and he moved his hand to hold hers and she let him. Thought about her palm sweating. He might think it was gross but somehow she knew it was OK. They were talking about catching fish. How tourists bought fancy lures but the thing the fish liked best was just a wadded up ball of Wonder bread. Ricky, why do you hit Bryan, she said.

Because he’s a fag, said Ricky. Steve laughed.

It’s guy stuff, said Bryan. We forget we have a girl here. We tried to get a bunch to come but you’re the only one who said yes–

You wanted to have a party?

We were gonna play spin the bottle. She felt her ears get hot again. Have you ever fucked before, said Ricky.

What?

Have you ever fucked before? It’s OK if you haven’t.

I haven’t.

Well what about now?

She felt like she’d stood up too fast. The windows wouldn’t stay straight. She looked for Bryan. He was next to her but it took a long time to find him. He was biting his lip.

I can’t.

It’s all right, we won’t tell. The girls in our class do it. Even Stacey, she’s got that college boyfriend. Plus the horses. Steve laughed.

I can’t, I have to go–

Where are you gonna go? We’ll get you home. Relax–

Bryan will you please take me home. I can’t, he said.

Don’t worry honey, said Ricky. It’s fine– you need another beer? I have half left.

I have to go back–

Why did we come all the way out here then. She couldn’t talk, and he said: answer me.

What?

Why did we come here and spend the whole day with you? Are you wasting my time?

No–

Are you gonna cry? Are you a baby?

No–

Why can’t you just be cool then, he said.

Bryan went last. He wore after shave on his neck even though you could have counted his beard hairs. His eyes looked sad at first. Then he made a face like he was concentrating on a math problem. Then a sound like he was hurt, and his eyes looked like nobody was in there. An old nail was biting into her hand. Her dad would make a big deal about getting a tetanus shot.

She had to bike back home. The seat was wet and she couldn’t stay on the road. When she got there she was crying. Her mother was out beating rugs with a broom and said oh My God what’s wrong. And she just said I don’t want to tell, I don’t want to tell.

Her mother didn’t push it. Just held her hand. At school they started calling her Easy Marcy. It was her birthday. She was thirteen.

Hello, FBI.

Yes, I’d like to report a… a threat, it’s a threat to seize nuclear weapons–

I’m sorry can you repeat that sir?

Yes, I am aware of a terrorist– it’s… they’re trying to get nuclear weapons, they’re going to–

Can I get your name please sir?

I’d rather not say.

He was on a phone he bought at 7-11. Where he couldn’t not notice the Evian rack. $35 but had full smartphone functionality. Barely a signal. Walking fast down the sidewalk and it felt like he had no knees. Vagrants sitting in zipped open pup tent doors stared him down with eyes like opossums. One looked up meaningfully as he passed. Screamed: I’m the Polish Prince of Penis.

This tipline is 100% confidential, sir.

It’s fucking Ben Dover, OK? Listen, ISIS is trying to get American nukes, they’re going to blow up the world–

What you’re telling me sir, is that ISIS would like to have nuclear weapons. Sir, the Bureau has been aware of that–

No it’s a specific plan, they have– they use a woman in the Philippines… she gives you a backrub and makes you fall in love with her, and then–

Are you referring to the MILF, sir?

No, she’s 22–

The Moro Islamic Liberation front, sir

No it’s Abu, fucking– ISIS is using marketing data to get nukes, I gave it to them-

You’re involved in this yourself sir?

No, I– I gave them data but I didn’t know what it was for, I swear.

What sort of data?

It’s, they– it’s credit card purchases of individuals, for, it’s used for refining branded content–

And this… is going to be employed for hostile purposes?

They’re going to blackmail people with it.

All right. It sounds like this is a problem related to wire transfers, is that correct?

What?

It sounds like this is a problem related to wire transfers and/or interstate commerce.

I mean I guess they have to wire money–

OK great sir, it’ll be just one moment.

Then he was on hold.

He was on Tinder. And what do you do, she asked.

He worked in a call center. People reported national security threats. Their caller ID appeared on his monitor. He typed notes. When they finished he selected an onscreen button.

The system had three tiers. Green was credible threat. Yellow was potential threat. Red was non-credible. Drunk women reporting their boyfriends for cheating. Mentally ill or mentally challenged callers. The Fuck You Button, they called it. It has to do with counterterrorism, he said. The phone was ringing.