The Marriage Dare

He was obviously more drunk than the rest of them. To the point where he couldn’t even pretend that he was safe to drive, but he was doing it anyway. I remember feeling a burning anger sizzling through my veins, and the desire to put him in his place. To put them all in their place.

Monica looked at me. “I’ll be back later for the car.”

“Hurry up, Mon!”

Up until this point, I’d always stayed silent. It’s how I’d survived. But I couldn’t watch her get into that car and say nothing. And a smaller part of me hoped that she would say yes, and stay with me. “You don’t have to go with him.”

Her face suddenly changed, going slack with shock. For a moment, just a moment, I thought that she was going to change her mind. But then the guy was beside her, gripping her arm with a nearly bruising force and pulling her toward the car. “Let’s go. Now.”

I took a step forward. “She can make her own decisions. And you are way too drunk to drive, so back off.”

The guy started to laugh, the kind of laugh that only drunk people have going for them. “Who the fuck are you, man? Just fix the goddamn car and stop talking to my girlfriend.”

I didn’t respond to him. I only looked at Monica. “You’re welcome to stay here while I fix the car. I’ll make sure you get home.”

She still looked shocked and surprised, and it’s the last thing I saw before I went flying. The boyfriend had come at me and I hadn’t even seen it. His intoxicated state hadn’t altered his speed at all, and he shoved me backwards into the wall of tools. I didn’t even know that until later. All I knew in that moment was pain. My head had cracked against the wall, and all I could see was red.

I opened my eyes to Monica’s horrified face. It’s the face I remember most. All she did was stare at me. Even as her friends dragged her into the car, and pulled out so quickly that they left black tire marks on the floor, all she did was stare.

The reason I remember so clearly was because it was the first time I had ever seen Monica Blast show her humanity.

Eventually, after a while, I picked myself up off the floor. I had bruises for a week from flying into the wall. But I fixed the car. The entire time I was doing it, I thought about Monica. I hoped that she would be okay, and that her asshole of the boyfriend wouldn’t get in an accident and kill her. Or that the way he grabbed her arm didn’t extend to the rest of their relationship and was just because he was drunk. I remember thinking that it wasn’t any of my business. I remember being angry that it was her fault I was working so late, even though I had agreed to it. I remember being angry because of the unfairness of it all.

But mostly I remember just hoping that she would be okay.

I never spoke to Monica Blast again after that day. I saw her a few times at school, but it wasn’t long after that that I had to drop out of school entirely in order to make ends meet.

If the boy in that garage had known where he would end up, and where Monica would end up, he wouldn’t have believed it. I still don’t believe it. But now she’s here, and she certainly not okay.

The coin is still in the air about whether she will be after I’m through with her. No matter how I feel about her, there’s still a debt to pay.

6

Monica

When I wake up, my memory is hazy. I remember that I was at the casino last night, but not much else. I am in a bed that is not my apartment, and the sheets that are over me probably cost more than my rent. I haven’t been poor enough to forget the feeling of thousand thread count sheets. When I look at what I’m wearing, the lingerie—a sky blue baby doll nightgown trimmed in silver lace— is equally as expensive.

I sit up, and look around. Holy shit, where am I?

This is one of the nicest hotel suites I’ve ever been in, and I’ve been in my fair share of the nice hotels. The carpet is plush when my feet hit the ground, and I quickly open the curtains to the morning sun. The city of Las Vegas sparkles before me, so I clearly didn’t go home. I’ve been living on the outskirts for a couple of years, because everybody needs lawyers in Las Vegas and usually they don’t have qualms about the past history of their lawyers. Unless you’re me.