It was a little white building near the outskirts of town, in a fairly deserted neighborhood. I could see people walking past the window of the office on the ground floor, just above the garage. It was early summer, about eighty in the shade. At around two o’clock, I crossed the street and stood by the garage door, pretending to tie my shoes.
I’d been there for only a minute when I saw a pair of pants legs stop in front of me. I looked up slowly. Even as a man I can’t stomach that kind of asshole: a jerk, kind of flushed, flabby around the middle, a lecherous look on his face-the kind you see all over.
“So, having trouble with your shoelaces…?” he murmured.
I stood up fast. I got my knife out. I held it discreetly under his nose.
“Buzz off, fuzznuts,” I growled.
The dude turned white, then jumped back, his eyes wide. His lips were like the petals of a rotten flower. I made like I was going to lunge at him, and he took off at a run. Ile stopped at the corner, called me a bitch, then disappeared.
I bent back down over my shoelaces. It was past two o’clock. I’d noticed that they were never exactly on time. All I could do was be patient, and hope that no more perverts came along. In spite of everything, I was calm. It seemed too unreal to be completely true. When I saw the steel door go up, I flattened myself against the wall. I heard the van start up inside. I hugged my bag against my chest. I held my breath. The sun started vibrating. There was no one in sight. I bit my lip. I had a bad taste in my mouth-sort of chemical.
The van pulled out slowly. My only fear was that the guy would see me in the rearview mirror. I took my chances anyway, hoping that anyone pulling into the street out of a garage would look STRAIGHT AHEAD. I was counting on it, anyway. As soon as the delivery truck had pulled out, I slipped inside the garage. I backed into a shadow till the door closed. I swallowed my saliva it was like swallowing peanut butter.
I stayed there without moving for five minutes. Nothing happened. I breathed. I grabbed my tits, which had fallen down, and put them back where they belonged. I must have measured fifty-five inches around the bosom, little points sticking out through my shirt. It kept me warm. I’d put my jacket on so I wouldn’t be noticed too much on the street, but it wouldn’t close all the way. I’d put on little white gloves to cover the hair on my hands. For my legs, I’d just worn pants. I’d settled on a short blond wig-a tad trendy for my taste. It was either that or a twenty-inch bun-they were out of stock till next week. I took my sunglasses off and got a little minor out of my purse to see if my makeup had smeared.
No, everything was in order. I’d done a good job-shaved three times in a row, put on a little cream, some foundation, and finally some rather violent red lipstick. All in all, I looked pretty good. Burning body and icy face-just the kind of girl who would make me nervous. I slid my glasses down to the end of my nose. I hadn’t done my eyes. I waited another minute until I felt perfectly calm, then I got on with it.
On the side, there was an open door that led to a little hallway. To my left, the exit-an unbelievable collection of bars and deadbolts. To my right, a stairway going up to the offices. I was struck by the surprising simplicity of it all-I viewed it as a sign from destiny. I took the Barracuda out of my bag. It was an imitation, a perfect imitation-it even scared me. I started up the stairs like a hungry panther.
On the second floor I spotted my man. He was sitting at a desk with his back to me-a young guy of about twenty-five, with pimples on his neck, trying to make it big in life. He was devouring one of those magazines that tells you about the sex lives of famous actors. I shoved the barrel of the Barracuda a good half inch into his ear, holding one finger up to my lips. He under stood-he wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Still warming his ear, I took his hands and put them behind his back. I got a roll of adhesive tape out of my bag-extra-strong and three inches wide. When you get a package plastered together with that stuff it’s enough to drive you crazy. I pulled a piece off with my teeth and with one hand wrapped five yards of it around his wrists. It took a while, but I had all afternoon. I took his gun off him and taped him to the chair.
“I swear, I’m not going to try anything,” he said. “I don’t want to get hurt. Don’t worry…”
I leaned down to tie his legs. I caught him looking at my chest.
I straightened up. It was as if he’d touched me-it was all I could do not to slap his face. I slapped it anyway. He yelped. I put my finger back up to my lips.
Now all I had to do was wait. Think and wait. I glanced at the electronic door-security system. It was easy to figure out. I crossed my legs and sat down in a corner of the office. I smoked a cigarette. The little jack-off gave me the once-over with velvety eyes.
“Golly… I mean, golly-you can’t imagine how much l admire you,” he gushed. “You got to have some kind of nerve to do this…”
He was wrong. Courage had nothing to do with it. Watching Betty sink deeper every day would make knocking over a bank-or blowing up half the world-seem like child’s play. Actually, it was not exactly a bank. It was a company that handled surveillance equipment and armored cars. They transported the daily receipts of certain department stores and toll booths. I’d followed them for a few days. I realized that it would be ridiculous to try anything while they were out on their rounds. Those guys were so jumpy-one sneeze and they’d turn you into a screen door. That’s why I decided to wait for them in a more relaxed atmosphere-at their home base.
“If you’d like some coffee, there’s a Thermos in the bottom drawer,” said my admirer.
He devoured me with his eyes. I pretended to ignore him. I poured myself a cup of coffee.
“What’s your name?” he asked. “I just want to be able to remember your first name. I swear I won’t tell anybody…”
He got on my nerves. There was a good side, though-him talking later, about what a helluva gal I was, would help me cover my tracks. For good measure, I rubbed my chest a little, just to see him change color.
“Jesus, could we open a window?” he said.
From time to time I got up to look out the window. The street was quiet. I never imagined it would all go so well. You could hear birds singing in the trees. The telephone hadn’t rung once, and no one came to the door. It seemed like a gag. Once or twice l caught myself yawning. It was hot. From the moment the guy saw me run my tongue over my lips, he got delirious.
“Untie me,” he said. “I can help you. I can cover you when the others come back-the bastards. Anyway, I’m sick of this job. I’ll go away with you-we can ransack the countryside… Why won’t you talk to me…? Why don’t you trust me…?”
To finish him off, I ran my hand through my hair. It was greasy. Good thing I was wearing gloves. He stuck his neck out toward me and let out a little whimper.
“Oh please,” he cried. “Be extra careful of the fat one, the fattest of the three…Don’t trust him… He’ll shoot you without a second thought…It’s already happened several times… He’s wounded pedestrians… Oh that bastard, Henry… You better let me handle him, ma’am, I won’t let him harm a hair on your head…”
I was bored but calm. I’d stopped letting things get to me. Except for Betty, I cared about nothing. I was happy to have something specific to do-it eased my soul. Unless something really went haywire, they wouldn’t knock themselves out over a simple crime of passion. To get a little peace, I sat down behind him. I played with his gun. His was a real one-somehow you could tell by touching it. I imagined what it would be like to give myself a bullet in the mouth. It made me smile. I was as capable of doing it as I was incapable of saying why life was worth living. I just felt it. The young dude craned his neck, trying to see me behind him.
“Why are you staying back there?” he complained. “What did I do? Just let me look at you…”
The restrooms were at the bottom of the stairway. I went down to take a piss. I took my wig off and fanned myself with it. I had no real plan. I didn’t have a stopwatch or a can of tear gas. I worked by feel, as they say. The truth is that I had other things on my mind; I had enough problems without having to worry about the details. I could understand how you’d want to cover every angle of a bank robbery when money is your prime goal but what did money mean to me? What difference could piles of money possibly make in my life? Given where we’d come to, I was willing to try anything, though. Anything I could for her. That’s what it was all about.
The guy nearly cried tears of joy when I came back.
“Oh Lord… I was afraid you’d gone. I was just beside myself…”
I blew him a kiss. He closed his eyes with a sigh. I glanced at the clock on the wall. The others would be back any minute now. I grabbed Romeo’s chair and tilted it back on two legs. I dragged him into the corner of the room, where the open door would hide him. He tried to kiss my hand on the way, but I was too quick for him. I poured myself another cup of coffee. I looked out onto the street, keeping my distance from the windows.
It seemed like forty years since they’d left in the van. Since then, things in the street had changed. Not much excitement. The way the world looked to me, I preferred to slide through it rather than ram up against it. At thirty-five you don’t want to be bothered anymore. This requires a certain amount of cash. Seeing all those faraway lands can run up a bill. Sliding through costs you your weight in gold. Still, I was willing to go away with her if it would give her a break. In a way, I was already packing the bags.
The guy’s voice made me jump.
“I have an idea-why don’t you take me hostage? I could be your insurance…”
This reminded me that I’d forgotten something. I taped his mouth shut-three layers of adhesive tape around his head. Without warning, he leaned forward and rubbed his forehead on my chest. I jumped back.
“Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” he said with his eyes.
Five minutes later the other three arrived. I watched the delivery van come down the street. When it stopped in front of the garage door, I pushed the button OPENGAR, then counted to ten before pushing CLOGAR. I knew that I was starting the second crap-shoot. I wasn’t worried.
I flattened myself behind the door. This time it wasn’t the Barracuda in my hand-it was the real thing. I heard the door close downstairs, and the sound of conversation. Their voices carried well.
“Listen, man,” one of them said. “When your old lady tells you she has a headache on the night you feel like fucking, just tell her, Don’t worry, I won’t touch your head.”
“Shit, that’s a laugh. You think that’s all there is to it? You know Maria…”
“Hey, man, she’s no different from the rest. They all get headaches sooner or later. Have you ever noticed how when you come home with the paycheck at the end of the month, they never ask for an aspirin?”
I heard them yukking it up in the staircase.
“Yeah, Henry-that’s fine for you…”
“Shit, man, do what you want. You want to bust your balls for nothing your whole life? That’s exactly what they want…”
They came in, single file, carrying small canvas sacks. I spotted the fat one right off, the one named Henry. He was wearing sandals. As for the other two-how they had escaped retirement was beyond me. Before they could say boo, I had kicked the door closed. They turned toward me. For a millionth of a second, Henry’s eyes met mine. I didn’t give his brain the time to react, I looked at his feet and fired a bullet into his big toe. He collapsed, screaming. The other two dropped their sacks and put their hands up. I had the situation well under control.
While Henry was writhing on the floor, I tossed them the roll of adhesive tape. I motioned to them to tie up their friend. They snapped to. He put up a struggle, but they had him wound up tight in three seconds flat, telling him over and over not to be a jerk. Then I made a sign for them to tie their own feet. They would have made some kind of storekeepers, those two-just aim something between their eyes and they do whatever you say. I looked at the shabbier of the two and signaled him with my white glove-translation: Tie your pal’s hands together, you old fart. When he’d finished, I pointed my finger at him. He smiled sadly.
“Listen, miss, I don’t think I can do myself myself.”
I shoved my barrel up his nose.
“No, no… wait… I’ll give it a try!!”
He did the best he could-he used his forehead, his teeth, his knees-but he made it. Now that all three of them were tied up, I relieved them of their guns, then I straightened up and looked over at lover-boy, bound tight to his chair. He had circles of joy under his eyes.
Henry was whining, growling, and swearing. A stream of drool ran down his face to the linoleum. Since I didn’t want any fuss, I grabbed the roll of tape and crouched down next to him. His foot was still pouring blood. His sandal was ruined. I congratulated myself on having bought the large size-there were still at least ten yards left, ideal for guys like me who are bad at tying knots. He looked up at me and turned red.
“You dirty fucking whore,” he said. “If I ever get ahold of you, you’ll start by sucking my dick!”
I knocked his front teeth out when I shoved the barrel in his mouth. Even a dirty fucking whore has feelings. I did it for all women who have headaches, for Maria and the others, all my sisters-in-misery: the ones that get razzed in the streets, hit on in the subways, all the women who have ever met a Henry. If I hadn’t left mine at home, I swear I would have made him eat a box of Tampax. Sometimes when I see how men are, it makes me want to send a blessing to all the world’s women-I don’t know why I don’t. He spit up a little blood. In his anger, a few small blood vessels in his eyes had burst. I had to pull my gun out of his mouth to gag him. This gave him a chance to say one last word:
“You just signed your death warrant.”
I refrained from crying on the office equipment. I wanted silence. I wound the tape a few extra times over his eyes. He was starting to look like the Invisible Man, only shinier and a little more crumpled. The other two were quieter-I merely stuck a symbolic piece of tape over their crummy mouths. I stood up, thinking that the hard part was over. The idea made me smile. I didn’t want to contradict myself-I pretended that I didn’t know that the hard part always lies ahead.
Though I still felt completely calm, I didn’t want to drag my ass. I picked up the money bags. I broke open the clasps and emptied them onto the desk-six sacks full of bills, with rolls of coins at the bottom. I put the bills in my bag. I left the change, afraid that it would be too heavy. I was on my way out the door when the young guy yelled, to get my attention. He motioned with his chin to the wall safe. What a nice boy-he had foresight. But I had a nice wad of bills already. I wasn’t looking to become independently wealthy. I mimed that, really, this would do nicely, thanks. He looked like he was going to cry. Since the others couldn’t see me, I took a ballpoint pen from the desk and came up behind him. I opened one of his hands and wrote JOSEPHINE in it. He closed his fingers with the tenderness of someone holding a butterfly with a broken leg. Just before going out the window I turned and noticed a big tear roll down his cheek. The yard was overgrown and deserted. I ran through the weeds and jumped over the wall on the other side. My throat was dry, probably from not having said a word all afternoon. I turned right, holding onto my tits for dear life, and ran past the backyards at a sprint without seeing anyone, then crossed a big vacant lot which went right up to the railroad tracks. I climbed the embankment without slowing down, crossed over the tracks, and went down the other side. My lungs were on fire. Luckily, the supermarket parking lot was close by. It was the best I could do to keep my car from standing out-my LEMON YELLOW sedan.
Nobody noticed me as I slipped into the front seat. Nobody ever notices anything in a supermarket parking lot-it’s the kind of place that drives you half crazy. I was dripping sweat all over. I put the bag down next to me and looked around while I caught my breath. Nearby, a fat lady was trying to stuff an ironing board into a Fiat 500. We stared at each other for a few seconds. I waited. She finally drove off with her door open, leaving me alone. I opened the glove compartment. I took out some Kleenex and makeup remover-hypoallergenic. Twenty percent of its ingredients were inert, and the other eighty percent weren`t too exciting either.
I unfolded the Kleenex between my legs, keeping an eye on the parking lot. I soaked it with the makeup remover. No one was around. I held my breath, then shoved my face into it. For the first time that afternoon, I felt a little sick. I flung the used tissue out the window. The plastic bottle let out obscene noises and spurts of white gunk. I scrubbed as if I wanted to take my skin off. I ripped off my glasses, I ripped off my wig, I ripped off my falsies, and stuffed everything in my bag. Out of breath, I turned the rearview mirror toward me. All that was left was a little tan spot. I wiped it off in one swipe. Josephine was all gone now, wiped away onto small pieces of tissue. I wadded them up into a ball and threw them under my tires as I pulled away.
I drove home slowly. I got there just in time to turn off the front burner on the stove. I watched the black contents twist and sizzle in the bottom of the saucepan. I opened the windows, then went up into the attic. She was smoking a cigarette, playing pick-up sticks on the mattress. A gold light poured in through the roof, making the dust particles dance. I threw the bag on the bed. She jumped.
“Shit, you made me move,” she said.
I slid in next to her.
“Boy, baby, am I ever wasted…”
I ran my fingers through her hair. She smiled.
“So, how’d it go with your customer?” she asked. “You hungry? I heated up the ravioli downstairs.”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me…”
I finished off a stale beer that was sitting there. Then I opened the bag.
“Look what I found during my travels…” I said.
She raised herself up on one elbow.
“My God, what’s all this money?! Jesus, there’s piles of it!!”
“Yeah, there’s quite a bit…”
“What’s it for?”
“For whatever you want.”
She reached in to see. When her hand touched the falsies she let out a scream. She pulled the rest of my disguise out of the bag. It seemed to interest her more than the money. Her eyes were like Christmas Eve.
“Ooooo, what is all this?”
I had decided not to go into it. I shrugged my shoulders.
“I don’t know,” I said.
She lifted the bra up by a strap. The boobs spun gently, in the infinitely tender light that enveloped us. Like a merry-go-round. It seemed to hypnotize her.
“Holy shit, you absolutely have to put this on-it’s incredible!!”
But I didn’t feel much like clowning around. Suddenly the day`s caper had wiped me out.
“You’re kidding,” I said.
“Shit no, hurry up…”
I pulled up my shirt and put it on. Betty got up on her knees to applaud. I struck a few poses, batting my eyes. As one might have expected, I wound up putting on the wig and gloves too. I hadn’t wanted to, but seeing her have so much fun was like witnessing a miracle.
“Hey, you know what’s missing?” she said.
“Yeah, a plastic vagina…”
“A makeup session!”
“Oh no…” I whined.
She sprang to her feet, all excited.
“Don’t move-I’ll get my makeup kit…”
“All right…” I sighed. “But don’t fall down the stairs, honeybunch…”
Around one o’clock in the morning, I whispered one last word in her ear, as she dozed in my arms:
“By the way, while I’m thinking of it… if anyone ever asks where I was today-we spent the whole day together.”
“Right. Even though I spent the afternoon fucking a gorgeous blonde…”
“You don’t have to bother telling them that…”
I waited until she was sound asleep, then I got up. I went to shower and take off my makeup. I had a snack in the kitchen. Whatever may happen, I said to myself, what I did today was not in vain. I came home with what I went out to get-something to make her happy, to make her smile. In the end it wasn’t the money that did it-she’d more or less ignored the money-but I’d gotten what I wanted. Yes, my efforts had been rewarded a hundredfold. I could have cried tears of joy right there in the kitchen at the drop of a hat-just a few discreet ones that I could hide under my foot.
I reminded myself that just two days earlier I’d found her naked, stiff as a board, in the corner of the bedroom. It wasn’t the first time, either. She still heard the voices. Things were still overflowing and burning all over the place. I didn’t need glasses to see the writing on the wall.
I managed to End a slice of ham in the fridge. I rolled it up like a crêpe and bit into it. It was totally flavorless. I was still alive. Things were exactly as they should be.