Cowboy let his cab roll the final fifteen feet as he steered the taxi to the curb in front of Philip's converted hardware store. He dropped Mei Chun with a cheerful, "See ya soon, little lady." It was a cheerfulness Mei appreciated, one which showed her that not everyone thought her a whore, because she was certain Philip would.
'But I was so happy half an hour ago,' she thought as she tipped the loquacious taxi driver a ten. 'Happy to be useful. So what happens now and what do I do tomorrow?'
She trudged up the stairs more worn out than she had been in a long time, each step more difficult than the one before it, each tread bringing new guilt to weigh her down. Jerome and the kids at the center, needing her while she worked out at the gym, preening and sweating in skin-tight pants. Pleading like a spoiled brat with Philip to spank her, degrade her, make her weep, and then ass fuck her until she felt better. Memories of being Jenny, pandering to her friends' prejudices, paying obeisance to the group opinion and seeking to follow the twists and turns of its caprice.
'Fuck them,' she thought at the top tread. 'Fuck the whole thing.'
She had, quite unconsciously, taken the top button off her shirt in preparation and the thought occurred to her, 'Why am I getting naked? Why do I do this again?'
She stood motionless, unable to find her own mind. She liked being naked here, but why? 'Pleasing Philip.' That was true, she liked the way her body affected him. 'But why? Why do I stand here with my thumb on the second button not knowing what to do? Am I a whore or not? Do I want what I've always wanted or not? Have I just had too much sex? Is it that dick I just had? Is it finally the one that will satisfy me? I mean, I'll never find another one like Dr. K's. Never.' She grinned at the memory; she felt bad about it but the grin persisted. 'What - a - fucking - monster! I swear I felt the ridge suck at the walls of my cunt on the way out.' But the memory wasn't enough to break her mood. 'It's that whole fucking 'daddy' shit. Must be. How long have I searched for daddy? Must be ten years now. Ten years when I never let myself morn. Never just stopped and thought what a motherfucker he was. Always hoping. Hoping so deep I didn't even know what I was hoping for. Pushing it deeper, pushing it away to rot inside me.'
She reflected, fingering the third button, on the attempts at filling her cunt with daddy substitutes. 'What a whore! What a goddamn dirty whore I made myself. Fucking without love. Fucking to use and manipulate and hurt those stupid enough to love me.
'... until Philip...'
~~~~~
Philip and Ai were in the middle of a conversation when they entered the door at the back of the apartment. "... Other than electric motors and hydraulics there is no other way to power the thing. You weren't thinking about steam were you?"
"Wow, a steam powered fuck machine!" Ai said before she called out to Mei. "Dà jiě... you home?"
"Up front," Mei answered, "having a cry."
Ai looked up at Philip who raised his eyebrows and took her backpack to put in the bedroom.
"What's up, hun?" she asked her while squeezing his hand then letting it slide from hers.
Philip heard them glide into Chinese to continue their conversation. He had a sense that it was best to let Ai take the lead, or the brunt, perhaps. She was wiser, more emotive, and while she wasn't always tender with Mei, she was effective. He put down her backpack then went and busied himself about the kitchen making Mei's dinner and listening to them chatter in their shared language. She had it rough, he thought, as he assembled what was a mostly pre-prepared dinner. The changes she had undergone were so many and so quick there were bound to be wrinkles. He was prepared for most of the unpleasant aspects, prepared but not pleased.
"Dinner, Mei," he announced, and put her meal on the breakfast bar. It was a perfectly plated dish of recently thawed Ricotta cheese ravioli in a lemon-mint sauce with shrimp scattered about and a few verdant clumps of broccoli.
"Can I put something on?" she asked from the couch.
Ai entered the bedroom answering in Philip's stead. "Something cozy?"
"Please."
"Why aren't you guys eating?" she asked as she approached the stool, fingers raking through her hair.
"We ate at Ai's parents' house."
"Oh?" she asked, hoping the pang she felt wasn't revealed in her voice.
"Her mom's a great cook," he said, unable to resist adding a dash of salt to her wound. "Cute little brother, too."
"Uh huh." It hurt more than Mei would've thought.
She stood, threw on the sweatshirt and pajama bottoms that Ai brought her, and thought ugly things as she sat and ate.
She watched Philip putter about the kitchen, drank the white wine he provided, and silently grew more upset that he hadn't said anything of an intent to visit Ai's house. Mei was supposed to be the number one girlfriend and he had made no mention of a desire to meet her own mother.
Eddies of disconcerting questions began to swirl in her mind like heat in a convection oven while she picked at her dinner. What was their life going to be like, she wondered? Would she fall further and further behind the little Vietnamese whore? Should she be thinking thoughts like these when she knew that Ai was a better person than herself? The obvious answer, and one she knew was correct, told her that she shouldn't, that her hurt feelings were her own fault, but it didn't make her feel any better. Then, in a truly unusual revelation, she understood that feeling better wasn't always the most important thing. It was a glimpse one quickly turned from, but like the 'daddy' thing, impossible to ignore.
The other two settled on the couch together and had the good manners not to giggle.
"Ready for Paris, Mei Chun?" Ai asked.
'Paris? Why would I want to go to Paris?' she thought, feeling stupid both for having wanted to go in the first place and for letting her mood quell the excitement she had felt just this morning.
"I made some calls," Philip chimed in.
She made some sounds of insipid interest, hoping her sour mood might inspire a furious whipping and a dick up her ass.
"We'll settle the details later," he said.
With Mei's plate cleaned and put into the dishwasher, with her hands washed and the machine started, Philip said, "Let's go."
It might have been Ai, or it may have been Philip that suggested sitting outside. Regardless of who, it was the fact that Ai seemed to know about the rooftop while she did not that sunk the dull blade of depression deeper into her heart.
The door was in the sex room and she had never noticed it before. Maybe because it was behind the anal domination bench or maybe it was because even its doorknob was painted black. Either way it was a secret she didn't know about and she was in the mood to be suspicious.
Philip opened the door but it was Ai who passed through first. Maybe it was that she was stunned to see the outside world so suddenly accessible that she hesitated or maybe Ai had shoved her aside.
Then there was a smile. His smile. But she couldn't say for sure if his smile was more for her, his Vietnamese whore, or for her own discomfort. 'And what did a smile like that mean anyway? What is he trying to tell me? That he knows? That he expected it of me? That I was fun while I lasted but now that I'd fallen for his trap, failed his test, I wasn't of interest anymore. That he'd write me a check for fifty grand and send it to my apartment?'
'That asshole!'
In many ways Mei was an innocent. She was only now confronting the normal childhood experiences that formed most people's psychological skill-set. For example, Mei was unaccustomed to guilt. As Jenny she'd been immune. Her reaction to its unfamiliar and unwelcomed appearance was an aggressive lashing out at the source rather than accept that her own behavior was the cause.
However, now that Jenny was Mei she wasn't a complete fool. The half of her mind that knew the truth whispered again: 'backstabbing whore', and 'ungrateful bitch!' giving her a glimpse at what guilt was for.
The afternoon heat stored in the dusty black tar bubbled from the roof, returning its borrowed radiation. It made Mei think on the differences between interior and exterior. 'Hot outside, cold inside. Angry inside, passive aggressive outside. Slut outside, whimpering, little, lonely girl inside.'
The exterior was on the same level as the third floor apartment, but since the third floor was half as wide as the second, the rooftop was spacious. There were the usual things one finds: gravel, great big, weathered air conditioning units, trash blown up from the street. There were long-dead potted plants and two camping chairs that reminded Mei that Philip had a life before her. She was glad the plants had died.
She walked on a path of broken wooden pallets, bleached white by the sun. They creaked, 'whore', with each step she took. Ahead, where the roof edge revealed more of the street with each step, were two old beach chairs and a box.
They sat.
