Pocket Change

Act I

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Reese screams, not getting his thumb out of the way while he ironed his midnight blue uniform.

"That's a dollar!" Marcy yells back from the bathroom down the hall. Marcy, 16, was his step daughter, whom he had full custody of after her mother, Grace had passed away a year ago. Her biological father signed over his parental rights and disappeared shortly after her 5th birthday, so Reese was all she had. Marcy's sarcasm and quick wit were just side dressings of the disdain and teenage contempt she had for Reese, and most other male figures of authority. Their newest clash was over the tongue ring she had forged the permission for, later admitting, it was funded by stashing the lunch money he gave her daily. She hadn't eaten lunch in a month.

"Yeah, yeah.. I got it" he mumbled, still exhausted from their last encounter. The swear jar, to which he was now one dollar indebted to, used to be savings for monthly family trips to the movies or rewards for good grades when Grace was alive. Over the past year it had become a community bank for Marcy and Robbie to pick through for soda money on their way home from school. Robbie, 12, also not Reese's son, but also whom he was legally responsible for, was the product of an affair Grace had with Reese's best man 2 weeks before their wedding. Her new-found Catholicism didn't allow her to divorce, and only charged 30 hail marys and a little guilt as the price of repentance for unfaithfulness. Reese loved her, and since he didn't think he'd ever do any better, accepted that as payment to hide his shame.

Kissing the picture of Grace on his way out of the bedroom, Reese knocks on the bathroom door. "I guess you won't need lunch money with that swollen tongue, so there's some of your grandma's Ensure in the garage fridge" he chuckled.

"Dick", she whispered under her breath.

"That's a dollar!" Reese yelled walking down the stairs.


Act II


"C'mon you twat.. it's an easy 20 bucks and I don't want to go in there alone again" Deb begs, standing out in the alley.

"My tongue is still swollen" Marcy says, banging the metal balls of the stud against the back of her teeth.

"Mine is too!" Deb pleads, "but I need the money to get some Vodka for Joey's tonight. You're still coming right?"

"Ehhh, I don't know. My step dad is being a fuckwad lately. I'm supposed to be grounded.." Marcy contemplates, "..but he is working a double."

Deb grabs her hand and pulls her through the open door in the back of Sparky's Adult Toyshop. The painted black hallway has two paths. To the left led out to the showroom of Sparky's, with lined walls of colorful dildo's and 6ft tall racks of endless, picked over porn dvd's overwhelmed you. The one way mirrored glass in the front of the building was frequented by passerby's adjusting hair and makeup, and every once in a while who's faces lined up perfectly inside the stick figure sharpie drawings of Kama Sutra positions Sparky had penned on the inside of the glass. To the right, the path stopped at two doors. On the first door the silhouette of a cat was printed on a white circle. Inside that room, roughly the size of a small walk-in closet, the fluorescent lights crackled to show 4 holes in walls, all lined with duct tape and spaced out with just enough room to rub shoulders with the person beside you. On the second door, a red circle with a picture of a crowing rooster. It opened to a narrow pathway that encircled 3 sides of the first room.

Deb has the timing of the shift change at the auto parts plant across the street down to the seconds. She was a regular at what she called "the docks". "We've got 28 minutes til 1st shift starts, and 36 minutes til first bell, so use that hand motion I showed you, it will make it go faster." she says reaching for the knob. "And don't take any less than 20 this time".

"Excuse me darlin.." a low voice croons walking out of the "Cat door", wiping running mascara from the corner of his eye and stuffing a folded stack of dollar bills into black spanx.

Deb, 18, had taken Marcy under her sexual wing about 6 months ago when they met at a party. Deb knew they would be bff's when during her dare portion of a game she was tasked with making out with another female, and Marcy didn't flinch when picked. She had a similar story at home with divorced parents who were overworked and under-involved, and spent a lot of nights sleeping on Marcy's floor.

Stepping inside the dimly lit, small room, their sneakers made a crisp peel sound on the sticky concrete floor. "Do you think Joey's a homo?" Marcy casually wonders as they wait.

"I think he's just metro, and too into fucking himself to worry about other guys" Deb laughs, "but he did ask me to finger his ass the first night we had sex" and there's a shuffling behind one of the holes. "You're up sunshine".

Marcy bends down in front of the opening and holds out 2 fingers, tapping them at bottom of the hole. A hand reaches through with two crinkled 10 dollar bills. Deb grabs one, and adjusts her book bag under her knees. The hands on the other side unclasp a belt and the pants drop, as a small flaccid penis pokes through. Marcy reaches in her pocket and checks the time on her phone, takes a deep breath and spits out her chewing gum.

Deb sits texting on her phone before her turn is up. A 20 dollar bill pokes through waving until she crawls over, tapping 4 fingers on the opening. The 20 waves back forth in a side to side motion, and Deb taps 3 fingers harder in deliberate knocks. The silent haggling is short lived as the stranger seems annoyed. The 20 retracts and tears the bill, poking one half through now. "Fine Asshole" Deb growls snatching her down payment.

The sounds of suction and saliva echo in the tight quarters. As Deb rearranges her position, quick knocks tap on her side of the room. "Finally" she mouths silently, looking over with a sly smile at Marcy who rolls her eyes. The other half of the ripped 20 drops into Debs lap. Shortly after, there are 2 loud thuds on Marcy's side of the room, as she quickly scurries to move her backpack out of the line of fire. A shaking hand reaches through the hole and hands in the other 10 dollar bill.

Straightening out her sweater, Marcy stops before opening the door, frozen with panic.

Outside she hears two men patting each other on the back from their conquest, "..and she had this tongue ring, it was warm and cold at the same time" a familiar voice says laughing.

Marcy flings the door open, "Reese!"

"Ma... Marcy?!", comes out in a broken terror, the color in his face drained just as quickly as the color of his post-ejaculate erection. Time stands still.

Deb pops her head out from around the corner, failing to muffle her laughs with the hand covering her mouth.  Reese slowly backs down the hallway looking at his feet and mumbling, "I... we just.. that was you..." quickly ducking out into the alleyway with his workmate, who's face could be the dictionary definition of fontrum.

"Well, at least now you're gonna be able to go to Joeys with me!" Deb cackles.

"Oh... Em... Jee..." Marcy laughs. "I just got a free pass for my entire teenage years" she says, poking the stud back through her tongue and screwing the ball back on, "and you just sucked my step dads dick".

Jack in the Box pt1

THIS LETTER SERVES PURPOSE. The bold, Impact font stood out on the post office bulletin board among the business cards, upcoming community yard sales sign, and directly below a sloppily handwritten "lost cat" flyer. The loosely hung, 8 by 11 piece of paper whipped in the wind each time the glass door swung open. There were tabs cut unevenly at the bottom, a few missing, with just an address listed. The smaller typeface read:

                                                           Can you keep up?

                             SWF late 30's, seeking above average male(in every aspect).
               
                                                        6pm Friday. Seasonal work.


"Who hangs something like this in a post office?" Jack mused out loud, to himself.

"I imagine a frail blonde woman, with small hands, who speaks in broken English and has a weak constitution" a soft voice said, popping out from behind a row of package lockers.

"See, I think this woman has some confidence. She's direct and determined. She likes to shop locally, and you have to appreciate that in-your-face innuendo. Plus the inherent mystery of 'is it a personals ad, is it some secret escort code, or is it just a poorly worded posting for some landscape work?'" Jack smiled, glancing at the woman out of the corner of his eye. She was beautiful. Dark brown eyes, olive skin, and shoulder length, jet black hair with streaks of blonde. One half of her "Bettie Page" bangs dyed snowy white. She adjusted her square framed glasses and looked him up and down.

Trying not to stare, but wanting enough mental snapshots of this woman to fantasize about later, Jacks eyes darted from the ground, to the woman, to the poster, back to the woman. He blushed, "looks like some suckers have taken the bait though, even the 9's look like tiny fishhooks on a bobber" pointing to the torn away slats.

"Hmmmmm... okay, now tell me about this one" she said pointing to the lost cat flyer.

"Bah, that one's easy" clearing his throat. "Recently rescued, but not quite comfortable around the family doberman, or the overly affectionate 9 year old who stuffed him in a dollhouse for 6 hours upon arrival, this Tom cat saw the open 2nd floor window as an escape route and an acceptable risk of bodily harm to jump from that height, to flee from his captors" Jack said, grinning cleverly because he knew it was the truth. He had heard the entire story between the 9 year old and her waitress at the diner this morning over breakfast when she hung her flyer there.

"But it's a calico?" tilting her head slightly left.

"So?" he asked, confused.

"99% of the time the calico is female. You said Tom cat" she informed.

'Shit' he thought. 'Missed that one'.

"Thanks for playing and better luck next time" she said in a lower register with a game show host inflection, on her way out the door.

"Wait.." he yelled, "I didn't catch your name. Would you want to get a beer sometime?" Jack asked, ignoring all the stranger danger alarms going off in his head and pissing into the wind.

"Sure" she smiled, "Grab a tab."