Reilly 13 - Dreams of the Dead by Perri O'Shaughnessy Page B
Authors: Perri O'Shaughnessy
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done to Cyndi barreled around my mind like a bad dream. I felt like someone slugged by a piece of king-hell bad luck.
As I hustled out, a maid leaned against the building. She looked my way from about a hundred feet, long-haired, gray-rooted, a good ol’ girl. I ran out to the lot; at least the car keys had stayed in my pocket as they
should. I took off, but I wasn’t relieved to turn onto the highway. My skin had gone cold and my hands on the wheel shook.
What had the maid seen?
See you shortly, honey, I thought, and strength came back, resolve came back, fury came back. Women trying to ruin my life, what I had left of it, trying to destroy the one chance I had left. I wouldn’t allow that.
CHAPTER 6
B renda Bee had been yawning all day because her new husband, Ronnie, husband number three, took Cialis and wouldn’t give her any peace all night. She was fifty-five and sex was pleasurable, but have a heart, baby. Don’t make it so hard to sit down the next day.
Right now, she was eating lunch at the restaurant on the gaming floor. Employees of Prize’s got food at a discount, and since casino buffets cost practically nothing, she could have loaded up on starch, beef, and rich desserts, but she chose wisely, going for lettuce, soggy fruit, and two cups of hot black coffee. At her age, you had to make a choice, sex or food, and she chose sex.
She watched the gamblers’ numbing routine. Not long ago you put in quarters and pulled a lever, watched the rows roll for a while, watched them clack clack clack one by one. These days, you inserted a money card and punched a button. The machine gave a digital approximation of sevens rolling along for about two seconds, then lights insisted on another punch, preferably of three quarters, not one. Bells used to blare when even a small pot hit. These days the casinos played it cool and quiet.
Of course, back then you could hardly see the machines for the ciggie smoke, and nowadays the gaming floors were well ventilated. Win some, lose some.
She watched a girl with bleached-blond hair almost faint asthree sevens lined up on her machine. A newbie, now hooked on winning, destined to lose her fun money, and it wouldn’t take long. Three sevens weren’t worth what they had once been. Inflation had hit the world of slot machines in this way, too. Good. More money for Prize’s, and that meant better job security for her. How much had the girl won? She couldn’t see the jackpot amount on the machine, though it was only a few feet away. The girl wasn’t squealing anymore, so it wasn’t worth getting up.
Ronnie had been nagging her for ages to get glasses. She couldn’t imagine wearing them, the weight on her nose, the ugliness. He said, “Brenda, are you saying female pride won’t let you get glasses, even though you’re blind without them?”
Pride? No. This was a survival technique, the way she saw it. As soon as she could, she would get LASIK surgery. She hated being nearsighted, had spent her whole life fighting it. If only she had the money. Of course, then she wouldn’t be able to see as well up close, but that would be fine, she would welcome drugstore magnifiers for reading. They cost like what, ten bucks? Plus, she didn’t read all that much, and Ronnie could read her the menus.
Up here in the mountains, working at a place where showgirls reigned, a girl needed to look her best. That required intervention and vigilance. She had beauty tricks Ronnie would never know about. She had recently had her lips permanently tattooed with color. Lips got pale in middle age. She remembered how perplexed Ronnie had been when she wouldn’t let him kiss her for a week after because her lips, swollen and a little crusty, hurt so much. Then, her breasts had shrunk when she lost weight. They hung like her grandma’s until she got the lift and implants. She made him wait again until everything healed and she could appreciate his appreciation.
Then came her hair extensions. Yes,
As I hustled out, a maid leaned against the building. She looked my way from about a hundred feet, long-haired, gray-rooted, a good ol’ girl. I ran out to the lot; at least the car keys had stayed in my pocket as they
should. I took off, but I wasn’t relieved to turn onto the highway. My skin had gone cold and my hands on the wheel shook.
What had the maid seen?
See you shortly, honey, I thought, and strength came back, resolve came back, fury came back. Women trying to ruin my life, what I had left of it, trying to destroy the one chance I had left. I wouldn’t allow that.
CHAPTER 6
B renda Bee had been yawning all day because her new husband, Ronnie, husband number three, took Cialis and wouldn’t give her any peace all night. She was fifty-five and sex was pleasurable, but have a heart, baby. Don’t make it so hard to sit down the next day.
Right now, she was eating lunch at the restaurant on the gaming floor. Employees of Prize’s got food at a discount, and since casino buffets cost practically nothing, she could have loaded up on starch, beef, and rich desserts, but she chose wisely, going for lettuce, soggy fruit, and two cups of hot black coffee. At her age, you had to make a choice, sex or food, and she chose sex.
She watched the gamblers’ numbing routine. Not long ago you put in quarters and pulled a lever, watched the rows roll for a while, watched them clack clack clack one by one. These days, you inserted a money card and punched a button. The machine gave a digital approximation of sevens rolling along for about two seconds, then lights insisted on another punch, preferably of three quarters, not one. Bells used to blare when even a small pot hit. These days the casinos played it cool and quiet.
Of course, back then you could hardly see the machines for the ciggie smoke, and nowadays the gaming floors were well ventilated. Win some, lose some.
She watched a girl with bleached-blond hair almost faint asthree sevens lined up on her machine. A newbie, now hooked on winning, destined to lose her fun money, and it wouldn’t take long. Three sevens weren’t worth what they had once been. Inflation had hit the world of slot machines in this way, too. Good. More money for Prize’s, and that meant better job security for her. How much had the girl won? She couldn’t see the jackpot amount on the machine, though it was only a few feet away. The girl wasn’t squealing anymore, so it wasn’t worth getting up.
Ronnie had been nagging her for ages to get glasses. She couldn’t imagine wearing them, the weight on her nose, the ugliness. He said, “Brenda, are you saying female pride won’t let you get glasses, even though you’re blind without them?”
Pride? No. This was a survival technique, the way she saw it. As soon as she could, she would get LASIK surgery. She hated being nearsighted, had spent her whole life fighting it. If only she had the money. Of course, then she wouldn’t be able to see as well up close, but that would be fine, she would welcome drugstore magnifiers for reading. They cost like what, ten bucks? Plus, she didn’t read all that much, and Ronnie could read her the menus.
Up here in the mountains, working at a place where showgirls reigned, a girl needed to look her best. That required intervention and vigilance. She had beauty tricks Ronnie would never know about. She had recently had her lips permanently tattooed with color. Lips got pale in middle age. She remembered how perplexed Ronnie had been when she wouldn’t let him kiss her for a week after because her lips, swollen and a little crusty, hurt so much. Then, her breasts had shrunk when she lost weight. They hung like her grandma’s until she got the lift and implants. She made him wait again until everything healed and she could appreciate his appreciation.
Then came her hair extensions. Yes,
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