No, youre coming with me. She coiled the mainsheet before tugging her gloves off, then nodded to the small shack beyond the mooring posts. Ill give the dockmaster a coin to watch our stuff.
Marco shrugged. If you insist. He wrapped a line around one of the posts so the sarfer couldnt break free and run under bare pole. They flaked the mainsail and left the mast up so they could get out of there as soon as they found Palmer. Vic tied back the halyard so it wouldnt clang a racket, then checked their dive gear in the haul rack to make sure nothing had come loose. She took a long pull on her canteen, dreading the hell out of this, dreading it worse than any deep dive, then led the way toward the Honey Hole, Marco having to jog to catch up with her.
28 No Room for Breathing
The sun pounded the back of the brothel by day, baking it until noon, then allowed it to revel in all its lurid glory as it slowly set to the west. This was when the idle women left their idle beds and leaned over railings from their balconies, their breasts drooping seductively in fire-red lace and midnight-black straps as they smiled down at the men who went twelve dunes out of their way home from work to ogle what they could not afford. Or as they shoved their way inside and paid anyway for what they could not afford.
Vic avoided the place like no other spot in the high desert. She would just as soon venture into No Mans Land after her father or swim through a vipers nest as set foot in the place. This distaste was an inconvenience when in Springston, for quite a bit of a divers business was conducted around the mismatched tables of the downstairs bar, men leaning heads together over smoldering ashtrays to consult expert maps scratched in charcoal on the faces of napkins. It was a blessing, in a way, that her mother owned the place and worked there. It gave Vic an excuse to shun the joint. Otherwise she would have to explain herself, would have to admit that it had nothing to do with her mom. Without this excuse, the men who dominated the world of diving would think her unbrave and unworthy.
You go in, she told Marco, holding up outside the front door. Ask for Rose and tell her to meet me out back.
Why dont you just come in with me? Marco asked, wagging his eyebrows, mocking her. You really have such a problem with what your mom does?
Vic hesitated. Its bad for business, she finally said. When I walk in there, all those drunks take one look at me and they decide they dont want nothing else for a week. Bad for business, and its my moms business.
Marco laughed. Jesus, whatever. Ill go book an hour with your mom for you.
Yeah, fuck you
But Marco was already through the door. The Honey Hole belched a blast of noise as it swung open for a moment, the early-morning crowd unusually alive, probably because of the news of Danvar, or still going strong from the night before. Vic took advantage of the lee of the two-story building to pull out her tobacco pouch and roll a smoke. Getting low. Would need to ride out to the gardens at some point and hit up her supplier
Why dont you smoke that in bed after were done, Honey? A face and two breasts leaned out over the rail above. Twenty coin for you. Special rate. Whaddya say?
Vic clicked her lighter, fired up her cigarette, and blew smoke toward the balcony. Fuck off, she muttered. She left the shelter from the wind and stepped around the building between the dunes daily carved away from this most sacred and protected of buildings. She thought of her little brother Conner as she considered how the sand here was eternally dug away just as it was from other wells of nourishment.
At the back of the building, there stood a low wall around a service door where drunks and garbage were dragged out. Vic enjoyed her smoke, the deep inhalations calming nerves jangled from being near the place. Rusted hinges full of sand screamed as her mother stepped out, an unlit cigarette in her mouth, the white robe Vics father had brought up from beneath Low-Pub fluttering around her knees.
Got a light? her mom asked.
First words exchanged in a year, and Vic was pretty sure they were the same words she had last heard from her mother, standing there in that very place. She cupped her hand tight around her silver lighter, and her mom dipped her cigarette into the flame. It came out aglow and smoking.
New tattoo? her mom asked. She pointed the lit cigarette at Vics arm.
Yeah, Vic said, resisting the urge to look down at her arm and see which one she was talking about. The sun was just breaking over the highest scrapers. She could already tell it was going to be a hot one. Look, Id love to chat, but I just need to find Palmer. Have you seen him?
Her mom inhaled, nodded, turned to the side and blew smoke against the sandblasted door. Saw your brother last week. Needed money for a pair of visors. Said he would really pay me back this time.
You know where he was heading?
Her mom shook her head. Nope. Didnt care. Dont you wanna ask if I gave him the money?