Trailer Trash

"I\'m Monica, by the way."

Something was happening. In the midst of her small crisis, she felt like cracking the first genuine grin she had in years. He was handsome, and a little cocky at first, but now seemed more like a shy little kid.

He looked at her without looking in her eyes, "Hey, yeah, I\'m Ian."

He didn\'t even wait to let her say anything else, and went down the dim hall to the small, out of date bathroom. He knew a little about plumbing, from another job he had had a couple of years ago where he had stayed with another member of the organization for a week. The guy owned this plumbing shop. Ian was always good at hiding in the background and taking things in. It worked well for him in his line of work. He had watched and listened to the pseudo roto-rooter fuckers talk on and on about copper versus pvc, u bends, teflon tape, and on and on , so he got in there and started taking the knob off after turning off the water.

He felt her watching him, and it made him nervous. He had learned to go unnoticed, to blend. To have her watching him, and learning his face, and hair color, and the motions of his body was not conducive to being incognito.

And she was watching. She watched his back, wide and strong, his wavy hair just reaching below the collar of his denim blue colored work shirt. She was feeling warm all over. Sexually attracted to him, which was unheard of for her. She didn\'t like sex, and tried to avoid it at all costs. This man, this quiet man, was making her feel things that she had not thought herself capable of after the hell of her childhood.

His hands were working quickly and skillfully. They were large hands, but not over callused and dry. They were smooth and young. She could tell he was aware of her presence, and searched her brain for small talk, but found none, so she pushed herself out of her dream state and got practical, "I, uh, don\'t have much money, but if you can wait a couple of days, I can probably come up with a little more."

"Nah, don\'t worry about it. What are neighbors for? Just lend me a cup of sugar sometime." There. He wasn\'t rude, very casual, and made it to where she would not be coming over to pay him. Back to business, and lurking in the shadows, where he was most comfortable.

"Then, stay for dinner." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. For some reason she didn\'t want him to go. Her quiet night of a hot bath and novel somehow was the farthest thing from her mind, now.

He stopped. His body motionless. He seemed to tense up making her instantly regret her words.

When he turned, she saw something like confusion and inner battle in his brown narrow eyes. A shadow of doubt, but he accepted her invitation after a long pause in conversation. "I guess I could eat."



The dinner of macaroni and meat sauce was not great. Monica had never really learned much about spices and proper cooking temperatures, but it wasn\'t awful, and he seemed to enjoy it very much. They ate in relative quiet until after dinner. He pushed his chair back and said, "I\'ll be right back."

She watched him go out of her front door, and did not move. She felt a smile come over her entire face. Not in all of her 24 years had she felt something like this towards a man. All men to her were pigs. This man, however, the subtle glances at her when he thought she wasn\'t looking, hands not quite still, fidgeting with his napkin, the way he kept scratching his stubbly face.

He came in carrying a bottle of expensive brandy. Monica hardly ever drank, after the years watching and caring for her mother\'s drunken stupors and finally dying from liver disease, she just could not get excited about the liquid killer. The happy gleam in his eye made her push her distaste for it away, however. It was a gesture, and a large one, being that the bottle cost more than she made in a week.

"Brandy?" He smiled, then looked at the bottle.

"Let me get some glasses, and we can have it in the living room." She took two glasses from the cupboard, slightly embarrassed that they were so cheap for the costly liquor, but turned them up to the light to at least assure they were spotless. After rubbing one small water spot away with a dishtowel, she went into the living room and took a seat next to him on the love seat. He poured shallow, the amber liquid catching the small amount of light in the room glinting off of the cheap made-in-Taiwan glasses. All she could do was stare at it, nearly hypnotized.

"You okay?" he said, almost afraid to make a noise.

As she lifted her head, her eyes glossed over in thought, he wanted to kiss her so badly it was as if under some spell.

"Yeah, I\'m great. Really. Just thinking about my mom. Not something you really wanna hear from a woman your sharing brandy with, huh?"

It was his turn to look down into the glass he was holding in his cupped hands between his knees. "You can\'t help what thoughts come into your head. Most people just lie about them if someone asks. At least you\'re honest." He picked up his head and looked at her, this time looking deeply into her eyes, "Tell me about her."

In the next two hours she let go. All of the words and tears came out to this stranger, a stranger she felt more comfortable with any person she had known for years, as she sipped then gulped down more brandy. She told of her mother\'s alcoholism from the time she could remember, the men in and out of her mother\'s life, some nice to her, some mean. One in particular who had tried to rape her before she had kicked him in the groin. He had went and beat his mother for his pain, and left that night. Her mother still cursed her for it time and again while drunk. It all came out in waves, No details, no pause between stories, like it all had happened in the time it took her to do the telling.

He listened. He did not say a word, only poured her brandy when her glass was empty in her hands. Any other time hearing these stories would not have affected him. He had heard these same stories from so many that he could have told the stories for them, but those were also people engaged in prostitution, drugs, alcoholism, bad marriages, to continue the horrid life they had grown used to. Using all their childhood woes as an excuse to fuck up even worse.

Then there was this woman. This woman with big green eyes and a wall around her to show the world the strength that she didn\'t actually have. This woman that had fought all of the wrongs of her life, and worked hard to be just a normal person.

This woman that was more of a little girl than any of the......

"Monica?" he said as he came out of his thoughts and realized she had fallen asleep on his arm. He took the glass from her hand, and lay her down on the sofa softly and gently. Pulling the quilt over her, his hand brushed her neck. She moaned, and turned her head. He sat and stared at her, not wanting to move. Her soft face alseep as if she had not just confessed all of the evil\'s that had befallen her in her short life.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he was leaning down to kiss her. As his lips lightly touched hers, he felt....well, he felt. He had not felt anything for a very long time. He had cut himself off from any emotion he could have. He had to. If he had feelings, there was no way he could do what he did.

He thought of it, then. His job. What the hell was he doing? He didn\'t socialize. He didn\'t meet people in the neighborhood, have dinner. He sure as hell didn\'t kiss anyone.

He stood up and left the trailer as fast as he could after going around to everything he touched, wiping his fingerprints off of things, and rinsing his dishes and glasses. Back in his own place he sat on a kitchen chair, breathing heavily. All of a sudden, he knew what he must do. He had to get out of this place as soon as possible. This job was closing faster than it should, and he was going to catch hell from Calvin, and maybe even the big man, but he could deal with that a hell of a lot easier than the thought of that fucking woman next door getting him tied up in knots inside.

Letting a fucking woman get to him.

He went to the closet and opened his small safe. Inside the safe was stacks of money, extra ammunition, several seringes filled with a clear liquid, fake I.D.\'s identifying him by a range of names from Allen Miller, to Zeb Tyler, and a cell phone.

He took out the throw away phone, and pushed send after dialing the number of another throw away phone that was 150 miles away.



Calvin came out of his sleep, leaned over the slut next to him, grabbed the phone, and looked at the number. It was Nick. He ran his hand trough the little bit of hair he had left. What the fuck was Nick doing calling already?

"Hello?"

"Yea, send the van."

"What the fuck are you talking about? It\'s been three fucking weeks, man! You got all you need already?"

Nick hesitated after this question. He knew he hadn\'t done enough research. Had not cased the houses enough or did all of his research, but he had to get the fuck out of here, and fast, and there was no way he would leave without the payoff. If he did, he would never get a decent spot out of Calvin again, and besides, he saw enough to know which one he would be getting. "Got all I need. Easy peasy, dude. Just send the fucking van."



Holly strode across the floor in front of her uncle in her underwear. She did this a lot. She loved the rush as she felt his eyes on her round tight ass. He had been staring at her for the last two years, since she moved in with him and her Aunt Penny after her mother\'s unfortunate incarceration for dealing crack and prostitution.

Lenny was getting ready for work. He worked every night at a minimall walking around with his little stick acting bad ass. He was a fucking worm. Always staring at her, always licking his thin, dry lips. She stood in front of the mirror and heard the door slam.

Her smile got big, then bigger as she stared into the mirror at her reflection. She was hot, she knew it. Blonde hair care of Nice and Easy, full lips, big tits, tiny waist. She was staying home tonight, but who knew if Billy was coming over. She put on another layer of eye liner and some raspberry lip gloss and went over to her bed and lay down on her stomach, thumbing through the latest issue of Seventeen. Each page she stared at the girls, and criticized all of them.

She heard someone knocking. Looked like Billy made it after all. She got up and primped for a minute, in no hurry to the door. "Let him wait." she said while she added just a touch more raspberry lip gloss.

The door opened to a man, who was not Billy. Hell no, this one was hot. Big, muscled, a little scruffy with the tossed hair and in need of a shave, but still hot. "Hey there! Lost?"

He did not have to look behind him. He had done this enough to be able to sense if anyone were watching. It was clear and time for work.