Excerpt from Gemma (Continued)"Hey there, little girl . . ." he says, which kind of offends me, because I'm not little, I'm twelve, for Christsake. Would correct him on his assumption, but I don't want to be rude. "Hi," I say. I'm feeling funny, don't know why. Don't like the way this Hazen guy is looking at me. Looking at me all greasy, oily-like. Freaking me out. "Well, what do you think?" Buddy asks, me standing there, just standing there. "Good. She'll do, she'll do real nice," says Hazen, smiling. Runs his forefinger down my arm, does it slow, like he's branding me. Don't like it. Try to step back, but there's nowhere to go. Buddy's stepped in right behind me, right up close, crowding me in. Nowhere to go, and I kind of suffer from claustrophobia, you know, like panic spells when people crowd me too close. I get dizzy, everything kind of slows down, rushes by, blurry like. Standing there in Denny's, Buddy pressing up against my back, this Hazen guy right in front, table, chairs, cutting out my air. I can hear the kitchen noises, |
dishes, cutlery clinking loud. Real loud, like they're amplified, and yet voices, muffled, foggy, like they're talking through a vacuum hose. And they laugh, Buddy and Hazen, they both laugh, tunnel laugh, and then Hazen takes out his wallet, gets it out of his back pocket and starts counting out money. "Twenty . . . forty . . . sixty . . . eighty . . . and . . . one hundred dollars." Gives the money, the hundred dollars to Buddy. And I'm wondering what this has to do with my waitressing job. But Buddy doesn't explain. Just pockets the money, gives my ass a feel, then stuffs my hand into this Hazen guy's sweaty, clammy one. His soft, pulpy, soggy hand, that feels like mashed, spit-out bananas. "She's all yours, man," Buddy says, smiling still. Smiling big. Then he makes a noise like a train whistle. "Whoohoo!" he says, pumping his fist up and down in the air. "Go to town." While Hazen's putting away his wallet, Buddy leans over me, smile gone. No smile now, eyes like ice picks, chop right through me. "You be good," he says, hand slid under my hair, squeezing the back of my neck. Squeezing it hard, real hard, making my eyes fill up. "Hazen's boss now, you hear? You |
