Page 45 of Them Bones

In under an hour, Ma had ripped down the shower curtain because it was “mildewy”, opened all the windows in the house for some “fresh air” despite it being -15 degrees, and torn apart her entire wardrobe, strewing it all over her room. She’d also given Cary two hundred bucks to “go grocery shopping for proper food”. Cary had taken the bills without reminding her that everything was closed on Christmas day and disappeared.

Linette huffed and flopped down on the bed. “I can’t find it!” she shrieked, lighting a smoke and blowing it out the wide-open window.

“Find what, Ma,” Laney asked, exhaustion pickling her voice.

“My favourite leather jacket!”

Laney avoided her eye, not wanting to admit it was currently in her own closet.

“What about this one?” she asked, holding up a thigh-length burgundy leather coat.

“Honestly Laney, what iswrongwith you?!” Ma said with a scowl. She held her cigarette out and burned a hole right into the sleeve. “This is trash, you hear me? It’s not even real leather!When are you going to grow up, huh? When are you going to grow out of those ratty t-shirts?”

The vodka was kicking in.

“I don’t know, Ma. They’re comfy, I guess.”

“Come here,” she snapped, and Laney walked over to her. Ma scrutinized her with a scowl, before putting out the cigarette with the toe of her stiletto right there on the bedroom carpet with a hiss. Then she snapped her fingers at Laney. “Grab those pants, right there – no not those… yes. And that top.”

Laney did as she was told and brought them to Ma, who roughly gripped her shirt and yanked it over Laney’s head before unceremoniously tugging down her pants. Laney stood there in just her undies, too tired to feel embarrassed. It wasn’t the first time Ma had played human dolly with her. Laney pulled on the wide-leg Modrobes with a click-belt, and a cropped black fitted off the shoulder shirt, braless, before glancing in the mirror. She looked… kinda hot.

Ma smirked at her, but then her eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips.

“What’s this,” she said, reaching out with her hand and splaying it across Laney’s hip. Laney jumped and looked down, realizing that her mother had laid her hand over top of the bruises on the inside of her hip bone. Bruises from Shane’s thumb.

Ma’s eyes darted to Cary’s room, and then back to Laney.

“I think you’re right,” she said quietly, “comfy is better.”

Laney changed back into her oversized t-shirt.

Ma finished the bottle.

NICK

Nick wasn’t in the mood for a party, but Cary had said it was “mandatory”, whatever the hell that meant. Everyone seemed genuinely amped. Apparently Cary’s mom was some kind of mythic stripper-slash-siren who showed up out of the blue, hosted epic ragers, and then disappeared into the abyss.

When Cary wasn’t around, they’d also mention the part where she sometimes took one or three of them to bed at those parties. He’d expected them to be nasty about it, talking shit and razzing each other. But he honestly believed them, because half the guys sounded wistful, and the other half went dead silent and stared at the floor. Not too many women left a crew like Cary’s dumbstruck and blushing.

Nick figured Cary’s folks had to be good looking to have produced a mug like his. It regularly astonished him that Cary bothered with a job – an illegal one, sure, but still a job – looking like that. He’d gone and seen Face/Off in the theatre that summer, and he had to admit if he were gonna swap with someone, he’d probably pick Cary if only so he never had to work again. He could just live off endorsements and shit. Modelling. Or whatever.

John observed Nick removing a portion of powder and watched him mix in a measure of talc, before reaching over Nick’s shoulder for a pinch and cleaning it off the back of his hand with a snort.

“Fuck, I swear Nick, you’re an artist.” He licked his finger. “Doesn’t feel cut. Doesn’t taste cut, neither.”

Nick did a bump of the uncut portion.

“You’re such apurist,”John scoffed.

Nick gave him the finger.

They finished shipment prep and then Nick tossed John the keys to his Pontiac Sunfire. “You go, I’m not in the mood.”

“Get in the damn car, Nick.”

“I don’t get the big deal, man. It’s just a party. We have them every goddamned day that ends in ‘y’. Why is Cary making such a big deal about this?”

“Cary and Linette don’t get along so good. He likes to have a big buffer between him and her. As many of his people around as he can.”

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