Whenever he saw Mag around, she seemed to be equipped with a fresh bottle. And it was usually good Scotch, not cheap wine. He didn’t know what her story was, but figured maybe she got disability pay. She didn’t seem crippled up, but she might’ve pulled a cheat on the state. That would explain her riches. Disability was a lot more than general relief, maybe three times as much. On the other hand, maybe she had some money put away. Or she might just be better at begging. He’d seen her at it, now and again, and she never outright asked for money. All she did was look her marks in the eye and say, “God bless you,” and more often than not they’d fork over some change.
Charlie kept the bottle and worked on it, and it was good stuff. It heated him up. It gave him a buzz. By the time he finished the bottle, he was following Mag up the stairway to the motel’s balcony.
She unlocked the door of room 210, and they stepped inside. Charlie shut the door. Mag flicked a wall switch, and a lamp came on beside the bed.
“Land,” she said, “ain’t this the berries, though?”
Charlie stood by the door and watched while she wandered the room. She seemed awfully chipper about being here. She found a wine bottle in the wastebasket and upended it, dribbling the last few drops into her mouth. On the dresser was a pack of Salems. She shook a cigarette out, stuck it between her lips, and fired it with a match. She ran her hands over the bed. Plucking the cigarette from her mouth, she picked up a pillow and rubbed her face with it. She stopped at each of the open suitcases and inspected what was inside. Then she went into the bathroom.
From where he stood, Charlie couldn’t see what she was doing in there. Maybe she’d found something good. He hobbled forward and stopped when he spied her through the doorway.
Mag’s coat was a heap on the floor. She stood behind it, unbuttoning the front of her sweater. The cigarette hung from a corner of her lips, its ribbon of smoke curling into one eye and making her squint. She got the sweater off, dropped it onto her coat, and started fumbling with the buttons of her old plaid shirt.
“What’re y’doing?” Charlie asked.
“Mind yer own beezwax.”
“I wanta go.”
“Tough toenails.”
“I’m gonna miss out.”
“You already missed out. Stop your bellyaching.”
He guessed she was right. Even if they left right now, it would all be over by the time they got back. “No fair,” he muttered.
“This here’s your first clean-up,” Mag said. “You oughta be happy you ducked it this long.”
“Poop,” Charlie said.
Mag scowled at him, and pulled her shirt off. She wore a gray sweatshirt. She started lifting that, and Charlie caught a glimpse of gray skin blotchy with sores and scabs. He turned away fast.
Mag giggled. “Oooo, Charlie’s shy.”
“Ain’t neither,” he said. But he didn’t look again. He crawled onto the bed and flopped. The sheet felt smooth and good against his face. It smelled nice too. He supposed it smelled from the woman they got. Oh, she was sure something, and he was missing all the fun.
He heard water start to splash, heard the skidding clink of a shower curtain.
He closed his eyes.
“Hey! Looky here.”
He woke up, rolled over, and saw Mag in front of the dresser, facing him. She wore a low-cut white nightie that he could see right through and wished he couldn’t. A string of pearls hung against her bony, mottled chest. There were rings on her fingers, bracelets on her wrists, and a pearl earring on each ear. The lobes of her ears dripped blood onto her shoulders. Her lips were red and glossy. She was grinning at Charlie with brown stubs of teeth as she drew a brush through her long black hair.
“Ain’t I the purty one?” she asked.
“Like a whore that’s three weeks dead,” he told her.
Her eyes bugged out. She hurled the brush. It clopped Charlie over the left eye. As he dropped onto the bed, she rushed at him, squealing. He rolled away and curled up, hugging his head. The mattress rocked him as she leapt onto it.
“No-count cockless bag of shit!” she cried out.
Charlie yelped and whimpered as she pranced on the mattress, kicking and stomping him, as she sat on him and yanked his hair and rapped his head with sharp knuckles. Finally she