Cherry Money Baby (5 page)

“Don’t use that word.” Ardelia cleared her throat. “I mean. Well.”

“Well.” Cherry made a gee-golly gesture. “I guess this wins for most awkward conversation ever.”

Ardelia Deen chuckled. Cherry had actually made a movie star laugh. “Yes, I guess it does,” Ardelia said.

Cherry looked around for something, anything to talk about — and that was when she saw Ardelia’s wheels.

“Oh. My.
Lord.
” She rushed to the gleaming silver sports car. “You drive an
Alfa Romeo
?”

“Is that what it is? I had my manager pick it out for me. I just told her I wanted a car like the one from
La Dolce Vita.
Sort of a present to myself, but to be honest, I barely ever drive it.”

Cherry peered inside. “This is a Series 2 Spider. This shit is
vintage.
You can tell it’s from the seventies, after they chopped off the tail and put in the padded dash.” She stepped back to take it in all at once. “I need a cold shower after seeing this.”

Ardelia seemed impressed. “You certainly know your cars.”

“Pop owns a garage. I was conceived and born in the back of a Fiat.”

Ardelia laughed again. “Honestly, I’m a useless driver. I learned on British models, and this whole other-side-of-the-road thing? Impossible.”

“This is really . . .” Cherry pressed her palms to the hood. It was hot and cool at the same time. “This is a thing of beauty.”

She hadn’t noticed Ardelia watching her, admiring her admiration, or maybe just thinking she was nuts. The movie star smiled.

“Do you want to go for a spin?”

“Really? I mean, could we?”

“Would you like that? I don’t particularly like driving, but if you want to . . .”

Cherry was already behind the wheel. Ardelia climbed into the passenger seat. Cherry sank low, running her hands over the console.

“I’m going to have to make love to your car now.”

“Well, buy it dinner first.”

The girls laughed. The keys were in the ignition.

“Listen to that! She
purrs.
”

“Now,” said Ardelia, “I’ve noticed it’s a little touchy, so go easy at —”

Ardelia’s sentence was cut short as both girls were thrown back into their seats. Sugar Village blurred, reeled, and was gone before Ardelia could fumble with her seat belt.

“Whooo!!!”
Cherry howled.

“Well, I didn’t know it could do
that.
”

“Not
it. She.
A car like this is definitely a
she.
” She pulled onto Hope Ave. and reduced speed. “That was
fun.
”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Ardelia bit her lip. “How fast do you think it —
she
— can go?”

Cherry shrugged. “Specs claim 158 miles per hour.”

“What’s that in kilometers?”

“I have
no
idea.”

“Hmm.” Ardelia thought, eyeing her driving companion. “What do you say we find a highway and see what she can
really
do?”

“I dunno. You think? If we get pulled over . . .”

“Speeding tickets are on me!”

Cherry squeezed the leather steering wheel, rubbing her fingers into the grooves. “All right, Ms. Movie Star. You’re on.”

Route 290 zigged and zagged, winding itself under the wheels like measuring tape zipping back into its casing. In a few minutes, they’d reached the edge of Aubrey. Cherry took the last exit before Worcester and plotted a return course on Route 9, a smaller street-level highway that traced the outskirts of town. In no time they’d reached the Webster border, having circumnavigated Aubrey entirely. It gave her a chilly shock. The world felt so small at this speed.

“Tell me about yourself !” Ardelia said too suddenly. She sounded nervous, but that made no sense. Movie stars didn’t get nervous around normal people. Not that Cherry knew many movie stars. Or normal people, for that matter.

“Not much to tell. One time I gave Ardelia Deen the Heimlich maneuver.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s more than that.”

“Well . . .” A smile crept onto Cherry’s lips. Was it weird to tell a stranger before her family? The news was so big, so crazy in itself, it made a strange kind of sense that the first person she told was Ardelia Deen. In an Alfa Romeo.

“I got engaged. Today. Just now.”

“
What?
That’s wonderful news!”

Ardelia’s glee was disarming. Cherry took her eyes from the road to glance at her. “You actually seem excited.”

“I am!” She flashed her perfect teeth, bouncing in her seat. “What’s his name? Who is he? How did he ask? Tell me
everything.
”

“His name is Lucas. We’ve been dating for a few years, but I’ve known him since we were little kids. He lives in the trailer behind mine.”

“He’s
literally
the boy next door.” The starlet sank low in her seat. “That is
so
romantic. I wish I had someone like that.”

“He’s perfect,” said Cherry. “He’s . . . he’s a street artist.”

“Like Bonzo.”

Cherry nearly took her eyes off the road again. “You know about
Bonzo
?”

“Darling, he’s a cultural icon, not to mention a Brit. I mean now, he’s a little . . .”

“Played out,” finished Cherry.

“Exactly.”

“
No one
around here knows who Bonzo is. They think he’s a TV clown from the sixties.”

Ardelia laughed. “We
must
celebrate. Why don’t I take you to dinner? Do you know Ascot in Boston? They do the most fabulous
amuse-bouches.
. . .”

Cherry’s good cheer evaporated. She imagined strolling into a fancy restaurant looking like an idiot in her sponge-gray track shirt. International Internet humiliation was bad enough for one day, thank you. Plus, who could afford a restaurant that served French-sounding food? And
Boston
? That was light-years away.

“I’ve got a better idea,” said Cherry.

The Spider huzzed into a 7-Eleven parking lot, stopping just short of the concrete benches and cigarette canisters guarding the entrance.

“What’s this?”

“You want food? This is food!” said Cherry. “This is what me and my friends do for late-night eats.”

“Oh! Fabulous. Never been in one.” Ardelia hopped out of the car, striding toward the chaotic glow of the convenience store, dress swirling like an anemone. She managed to make 7-Eleven look like a red-carpet event.

The store was empty save for Jim the Clerk, who in the movie version, Cherry thought, would have been reading a magazine with Ardelia’s picture on the cover. Jim barely noticed them.

“What’s on?” Ardelia said, rubbing her hands. “I’m
famished.
”

Cherry steered her toward the candy rack. “
This
is my favorite.” She handed Ardelia a length of rubbery something in a foil sheath.

“What is it?”

She expected Ardelia to recoil in horror. Instead, the starlet unwrapped the candy right there and took a bite.

“Oh, my God,” she said, mouth full. “This is
divine
!”

That was unexpected.

“Really?”

Ardelia considered the rack. “Are they all this good? What’s this?” She took a box of brightly colored straws.

“You’ve never seen Pixy Stix?” Cherry said, now genuinely shocked. “Pixy Stix are, like, an
institution.
Didn’t you have a childhood?”

“Clearly I’ve been deprived.”

Cherry laughed. “You need to be educated.” She slapped the Pixy Stix and the remains of Ardelia’s Laffy Taffy on the counter, fishing in her shorts for spare change.

“What about this?” Ardelia said, holding a small plastic package.

“Bubble Tape? It’s bubble gum. It’s awesome.” Cherry counted the meager handful of quarters. “I think we can only get two things, though.”

Ardelia waved. “Nonsense, it’s on me.”

Cherry ruffled. She leveled a Pixy Stix at Ardelia. “I don’t let people buy me things,
comprende
?”

Ardelia snatched the Pixy Stix away.

“Oh, get
over
it, Cherry Kerrigan. I’m paying and that’s final.”

The clerk clicked the register. “Is that all?”

“Wait . . .” Cherry blinked. What just happened?

“No,” said Ardelia. She stepped back, examining the rack of candy. “I can’t decide.”

“They’re all good,” the clerk offered.

“Are they? Fine, then,” said Ardelia. “How much for the whole rack?”

Wrappers littered the Spider’s floor, the cramped space behind the seats stuffed to the wheel well with boxes and boxes of Nerds, Bottle Caps, Mike & Ikes, and every other bad-for-you whatsit the 7-Eleven had to offer.

“What is it?” Ardelia asked.

A length of licorice rope dangled from Cherry’s lips. She chewed, quiet since 7-Eleven, working her thoughts into a soft, gummy paste.

“I don’t know,” she said. “You’re not like most rich people.”

Ardelia tipped back a box of Sno-Caps. “What are most rich people like?”

“I couldn’t imagine them eating Sno-Caps, for one thing. You’re kinda . . .” She swallowed the licorice rope. “I like you.”

“Well, thank you. I like you, too.” Ardelia tossed a crumpled carton into the backseat. “Most of the poor people I know make unfair generalizations about entire swaths of the population.”

Cherry rallied a comeback, then caught herself. “Ahh, I see what you did there.”

“Clever, right?”

Cherry smirked. “Very clever, movie star.”

Ardelia offered her a bag of candy. Cherry took a piece.

“What are these called?” Ardelia asked.

“Marshmallow Circus Peanuts,” said Cherry.

“That’s what they
are,
but what are they
called
?”

“That’s their
name.
Marshmallow Circus Peanuts.” Cherry was laughing. She was actually having a good time.

Ardelia held one up. “Absolutely brilliant.”

There was a
crack,
and the wheel spun free of Cherry’s hands. The Spider swerved, sending a landslide of sugary orange puffs into the foot well. They wobbled into the right lane, Ardelia shrieking. Cherry steadied the car.

“Bloody Christ, twice in one day,” Ardelia gasped, clinging to her seat belt. “What happened?”

“Wait,” said Cherry. “Listen.”

Something made a warbling sound underneath the car.

“Did we hit something?”

Cherry signaled into the breakdown lane, and the girls stepped onto the shoulder of Route 9. This stretch of road was dark, with thick forest beyond the reflectors and guardrails. A green exit sign gleamed up ahead. A semi blasted by. They came around to the rear of the car. The bottom of the right tire lay flattened against the asphalt, air hissing from an invisible puncture.

Ardelia pressed a hand to her forehead.
“Shit.”

“Fuck. It’s my fault,” said Cherry.

Ardelia sighed. “It was an accident. What do we do now, though?”

“You have Triple A?”

“Triple what?”

“Okay.” Cherry considered their options. “We’ll change it ourselves. I’m sure there’s a spare in the —”

She popped the trunk. It was tiny and packed with luggage, a field of
L
’s and
V
’s.

Ardelia winced. “I took the tire out.”

“So you could fit . . .” Cherry started.

“So I could fit my new luggage,” Ardelia finished.

“Right.”

“Right.”

“So?” Ardelia brandished her smart phone. “Tow truck?”

“There’s only one mechanic in town, and right about now he’s watching
My Name Is Earl.
” Cherry nodded toward the exit sign. “Pop’s auto shop isn’t far. We can get a spare tire there.”

“How do we get there?”

Cherry patted the rear bumper. “We push.”

“As in . . . the car?”

“Yeah. I’ll put her in neutral. It’ll be easy with the both of us.”

Ardelia gazed at her phone with a pained expression. “Why don’t I just call someone to get us?”

“Movie Star, we can’t leave this car here. It’ll get towed or, worse, stripped. And besides . . .” She pushed the other girl’s shoulder, a gentler version of her usual punch. “Why pay someone else when you can do it yourself?”

“I was about to say precisely the opposite.”

Another truck rumbled past, honked twice, didn’t slow.

“Well?” said Cherry.

Ardelia tucked her phone away. “Fine. Let’s just get it over with.”

Cherry climbed behind the wheel, shifted into neutral, and popped the emergency brake. Too late, she realized Ardelia was already braced against the rear. The Spider lurched forward and the other girl disappeared in the rearview mirror. Cherry rushed to the back of the car, where Ardelia was on her ass, spread-eagled in the grime, hair hanging over her face.

“Oh, fuck! Are you okay?”

Ardelia was convulsing. Cherry pictured twisted ankles, sprained wrists. The starlet turned her face to the sky. Her cocktail dress was covered in mud, dirt speckled her ivory complexion, and she was laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Ardelia sniffed, trying to catch her breath. She looked down at her ruined dress.

“Chartreuse!”

Cherry was speechless, dumbfounded by this weird-ass, bat-shit, mind-blowing, star-studded, heartbeat-y, pulse-racing, head-spinning, face-melting
brain-fuck
of a day. She laughed too, so hard she couldn’t stand anymore and dropped into the mud. The girls leaned against the crippled car and filled the vacant road with their cackles.