He pulled her into the kitchen, flipping the switch and the overhead lights came on.
“Damn,” Bonnie complained, her hand flitting up to cover her eyes, “thas bright.”
Cal positioned her by the counter and let her go, reaching to the top of the fridge to nab his phonebook.
She leaned into the counter then used it to hold her up as she slid into him, her hands coming back to his body at his sides.
“Lez hava drink,” she suggested.
“You don’t need a drink,” Cal told her, stepping away from her hands, putting the phonebook on the counter and flipping through it to get to the listings for taxis.
“Always needa drink,” Bonnie mumbled and that was the God’s honest fucking truth. She always needed a fucking drink.
He found the number for a local taxi company and pulled the phone off its charger.
“Whatcha doin’?” she asked, leaning further into him, taking a drunken step forward when her lean pulled her off her feet.
“You’re goin’ home.”
“Aww, Joe. I’m ‘ere for you, baby,” she fell forward further, her face aiming at his chest, her wet mouth slid along his skin and he fought the sick the touch of her mouth churned in his gut. “Give you wha’ choo need,” she murmured.
His stomach curled and he wrapped his fingers around her arm again, pulling her away, setting her at arm’s length. She leaned heavily against the counter and he took another step away, out of shot.
She tipped her head back to look at him, her haggard face sadly confused like she had no idea where she was or how she got there. Then he watched her work at it and finally focus on him.
“Joe,” she whispered.
He heard Bonnie say his name and then, in his head, he heard Violet saying it. Not just when they were fucking, when they were talking or even when she was pissed at him. No matter when Vi said it, it hit him, in his dick, his gut, his chest and it wasn’t in a bad way. He’d thought, until that moment, that it reminded him of Bonnie but looking at his ex-wife, it wasn’t that. Whatever it was, it wasn’t about Bonnie, it was all about Vi.
He stared at Bonnie and saw her hair was long and partially ratted. The natural blonde had been dyed lighter and the dye job was bad, so bad it had a weird tint of green in places. It’d been awhile, though, the roots were showing, lots of them. Her natural color came through but there was gray in it, like she was far older than she was and she was only thirty-eight.
He tried to call up what she used to look like, the girl he’d fallen for but staring down at her, her freakishly thin body; her gaunt face, the purple-blue under her eyes, the yellowish tinge under her skin; the lines around her mouth from smoking too much; and her clothes that were wrinkled, cheap, maybe even secondhand and far from clean, he couldn’t call up the Bonnie who used to be.
All he could see, and in that moment, staring at Bonnie, he could even feel her against his hands, his body, was Vi. Bonnie was short, five foot five. Vi had to be five eight maybe pushing five nine. Bonnie had always been thin but she’d had great tits. Now they were sad and sagging under her worn and faded camisole that showed way too much of her unhealthy skin. Vi, Cal knew from what she told him about when she got pregnant with Kate, was a few years younger than Bonnie but she’d had two kids and still her body was fucking unbelievable, ample ass and tits, tight skin, slightly rounded stomach. Even losing her husband, she hadn’t lost any vibrancy. Vi was a fucking firework compared to the washed out woman he’d married twenty years ago that was standing in his kitchen.
Cal looked at her wondering again, even after years of giving that shit his headspace, after what happened, what she did, he wondered what drew him to her in the first place. What made him ignore all the signs and think he could work his ass off to turn a shit life good for her, for him. As usual, he came up blank.
Violet, right now naked in his bed, had lost her husband and had some dickhead making her life a misery and she was shoveling her walks, calling her daughters “baby”, taking them to the mall and making them pork chops. Her life had turned to shit but she was cushioning her girls from that, she was giving them a nice home in a town where neighbors threw barbeques and her daughters could catch the eye of the local football hero and listen to crap boy bands in their bedrooms like normal kids never touched by tragedy.
She wasn’t drinking, smoking cigarettes and weed, snorting coke, scoring crack and falling to pieces.
This knowledge hitting him, as usual, he wanted to get shot of Bonnie but this time it was because he wanted to get back to Vi.
“Where do you live?” he asked her.
“Wha’?” she asked, back to confused.
“Bonnie, I’m callin’ a taxi to take you home. Where do you live?”
She stared at him, swaying a bit then she said, “Doan wanna go home.”
“You’re goin’ home.”
She blinked then slid along the counter to him, stopping when he took another step back.
“Joe.”
“Where do you live?”
“Baby.”
“Fuck, woman, tell me where you live.”
He watched as her face worked. She was struggling, she knew the finale already. It was the same every fucking time. Why she played out this scene, he had no clue and he detested it. But he knew she’d go for it, even knowing how it would play out. He knew what was coming.
“Bonnie –”
“Twen’y for a blowjob.”
There it was.
Cal closed his eyes.
“Come on, da’lin’,” she whispered and he opened his eyes to see she was sliding along the counter again, her chin low, looking at him from under her lashes, a total fucking farce.
“You need to get home.”
“You can do me up the ass for two hun’red.”
His lip curled and he wondered how many times she said that to how many guys, strangers, anyone who was willing to pay to get off with her. Looking at her he doubted she did good business.
Then he felt it and looked to his left to see Violet standing in the hall, wearing his t-shirt, her dark hair a tumbled mess around her face and shoulders. His tee fell long on her, over her hips but he could see most of her long legs. The whole of her, even in the middle of the night, looked vital, alive and sexy as all hell, polar opposite to the sad case in his kitchen.
But she was leaned against the doorway into the living room, her eyes on Bonnie, her face pale.
She’d heard.
Cal clenched his teeth and looked back at his ex-wife.
“You got a choice, you can let me put you in a taxi, I’ll pay, or I’m takin’ you to Indy and droppin’ you off at the first place I can stop.”
“Got a car, Joe.”
“You aren’t drivin’ in your state.”
“Doan wanna go home.”
“That’s not one of your choices.”
Her body jerked and she looked to her right, belatedly feeling Vi’s presence.
“Hey,” Bonnie called, smiling drunkenly at Violet, “we ‘avin’ a pardee?”
“Can I help, Joe?” Vi asked softly, walking into the living room and Cal looked at her.
It was useless, she was there, she’d heard, he could no longer shield her from this scene but still he tried as he spoke softly back to her. “No, buddy, go back to bed.”
“You wanna drink?” Bonnie asked Vi.
“No, thanks,” Vi replied, not going back to bed, moving into the kitchen, her eyes glued to Bonnie as she moved.