Let It Happen.
The air in Lucy’s house reeks of orgasm and cheap cigarettes, clothes scattered across the living room floor and an old tube TV with a crooked antenna, daylight pouring through the open windows, the wrinkled white curtain swaying with the breeze.
“Hey! Ice queen! Wake up!”
Lucy snaps her fingers near Evelyn’s face, Evelyn lying flat on her back across the cracked brown leather couch with yellow foam exposed from the armrest, her brown eyes lost in the ceiling.
She blinks twice, her tilted head stopping on Lucy’s figure — the red hair, the grayish eyes, the freckles and the little clothing she’s wearing, the bra strap twisted on her shoulder and the panties stained with alcohol.
“The fuck, were you on Jupiter?”
Lucy sits beside the still-lying Evelyn, huffing softly, taking a drag from her lit cigarette, the smoke slowly twisting into spirals in the air.
Evelyn sits up, wearing nothing but a gray robe.
“Sorry.”
Her tone is sleepy, rehearsed.
Lucy grumbles.
“Hm.”
The redhead crosses her legs, her shoulders suddenly slumping.
“…sorry, I’ve got cramps… I’ve got no patience for anything right now.”
Evelyn murmurs.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
Lucy turns toward Evelyn, her eyes suddenly lowered, crawling closer, the cigarette forgotten in the ashtray, wrapping herself around Evelyn’s delicate frame, burying her face in the pale neck.
“Stop answering like that… it just makes me feel even guiltier…”
Evelyn’s pale hand rises, stroking the redhead’s nape in a mechanical motion, contrasting with the flat look in her eyes now.
“The cramps are making you clingy.”
Lucy grumbles, a sound almost childish.
“Fuck off… I don’t care…”
A silence stretches out, accompanied by Evelyn’s almost inaudible breathing and the repetitive caress.
Evelyn murmurs.
“I have to leave.”
Lucy clings to her robe the way a child clings to their mother.
“Where to?…”
“Photoshoot.”
Evelyn’s tone never shifts.
Lucy hides her face in the pale neck, now wrapping her arms around Evelyn’s shoulders, who shows no reaction.
“Take me with you…”
“You know I can’t.”
Lucy sighs, her arms going limp.
“Stay a little longer…”
Evelyn doesn’t even turn her head.
“I won’t be long.”
Evelyn’s arms separate Lucy from her body, she stands up, the gray robe brushing against the dirty carpet.
Lucy curls up on the couch, hugging the old cushion that smells like sweat and cheap women’s perfume.
“Don’t take too long…”
Evelyn speaks without turning around, already walking away.
“I won’t.”
Her figure disappears into the hallway leading to the bedroom.
The air inside the bar “Cinco Ojos” smells like old wood, tequila and male sweat, incandescent bulbs casting an orange glow, tables covered with red checkered cloths.
There’s no music, only silence and the muffled clinking of glasses.
Evelyn walks in with measured steps, wearing dark clothes and a cap with a frayed brim tilted low over her expressionless face, her brown eyes scanning the room.
A graying man in Hawaiian clothes slumped over a table with an empty tequila bottle, and a pair of long-haired young guys talking about something involving “vagina.”
Evelyn fixes her gaze on a woman at the bartender’s counter — blonde hair, green eyes, wearing a hot-pink skirt suit slipping crookedly off her shoulders and a wrinkled black pencil skirt, her shoulders hunched in a timid posture of defeat.
She approaches slowly, the old wood creaking softly beneath the sole of her black sneakers, sitting two stools away from her, crossing her arms on the counter.
Evelyn turns her head, forming a smile that never reaches her ears.
“Sad?”
The blonde woman blinks as if waking from a trance.
“Oh… no… just… thinking too much.”
She shifts on the stool, trying to keep her shoulders straighter.
“You don’t seem like the kind of person who comes to places like this…”
Evelyn rests her chin against her hand, elbow propped on the table, the smile remaining.
“I usually don’t.”
Her eyes drift toward the stained suit.
“Businesswoman?”
The blonde lets out a loud sigh, a sound she doesn’t even try to hide.
“I was…”
Evelyn tilts her head.
“What happened?”
The woman slouches in her chair.
“I owned an arcade franchise… but it didn’t work out… honestly, it was a failure…”
“Well, you tried. A lot of people never even try.”
The blonde woman rubs her face with both hands.
“Yeah… maybe you’re right…”
Her green eyes meet Evelyn’s brown ones.
“Better to lose than never play… right?”
“Yeah.”
Evelyn turns to the bartender — a bald man with wrinkled skin and a beige shirt with the top buttons undone — raising two fingers.
“Two tequilas, one for me and Rapunzel over there.”
He grumbles.
“Coming up.”
The blonde laughs softly, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Rapunzel?... my hair isn’t even that long…”
The bartender slides over two small glasses, filling them with amber liquid from an unlabeled bottle.
The blonde picks up her drink, feeling the cold tequila, taking a short sip, the warm liquid sliding down her throat.
“Their tequila is garbage…”
Evelyn doesn’t wrap her fingers around the glass, the smile remaining intact.
“The tequila’s gonna get its feelings hurt.”
The woman lets out a quiet laugh.
“You’re actually funny…”
Evelyn leans back against the stool.
“I like making people laugh.”
The woman takes another sip, longer this time, setting the little glass back down.
“What’s your name?…”
“Daisy Flower, photographer.”
The blonde’s eyebrows rise.
“Daisy… that’s a pretty name.”
“And yours?”
The woman scratches the back of her neck.
“Paula… Paula Martínez…”
Evelyn raises her eyebrows.
“Latina last name? That’s sexy.”
The woman blushes faintly.
“Stop… now you’re making me shy…”
Evelyn laughs softly, a neutral sound trying to pass as warm.
“Sorry.”
She suddenly stands, the stool creaking.
“Well… it’s getting kinda late.”
The woman lifts her green eyes, her smile fading.
“Already?…”
“Yeah, it’s already ten at night.”
“Hey…”
The woman whispers, her tone lower.
“It’s kinda stupid… but… I dunno… how about we hang out? I could show you one of my arcades…”
Evelyn turns toward her.
“You want to?”
The blonde clears her throat softly.
“Yeah… uh… you’re nice and all…”
A silence follows between them, the clinking of glasses growing louder, Evelyn forming a wider smile.
“Sure.”
The arcade “STRIKE!” smells like lithium from old abandoned arcade machine batteries and mold soaked into the corners of the purple walls, plastic sheets covering the machines and furniture, the white laminated floor coated in a thin layer of dust.
Paula flips the switch, purple and blue neon lights glowing alive, casting vibrant, ethereal tones that clash against the abandonment of the place, the silence filled with a loud electrical hum.
She turns toward Evelyn, adjusting the collar of her suit, a faint blushing smile on her lips.
“Yeah… cool… right?”
Evelyn’s eyes scan every square inch of the arcade before shifting toward Paula.
“Looks like it used to be fun.”
Paula sighs softly, her shoulders curving inward.
“It really was… I was happy and didn’t even know it…”
She turns around, her back now facing Evelyn.
“My dad owned this place… he used to bring me here to play… it was so good…”
Behind her, Evelyn slips blue latex gloves onto her pale hands, her flat eyes fixed on the blonde nape, pulling a syringe filled with translucent liquid from her pocket.
“…it’s my favorite place.”
Evelyn murmurs quietly.
“I can imagine.”
Paula suddenly feels a sting in her jugular, her eyes widening.
Evelyn pulls the plunger, Paula feeling something cold rushing through her bloodstream, her hands flying to her neck.
“…w—what?”
She stumbles, collapsing backward against one of the plastic-covered arcade machines, the metallic sound echoing like thunder.
Evelyn watches with a completely expressionless face, no smile left at all.
Paula gasps, her lungs no longer working.
“…what… did you do?”
Evelyn kneels deliberately, whispering softly.
“Just let it happen.”
Green eyes water, thin tears sliding down Paula’s already pale cheeks.
“…why?…”
Evelyn doesn’t answer.
Paula slowly stops breathing, her eyes still open in an expression of eternal fear, her body sinking slowly, arms falling limp to the sides.
Evelyn shows no reaction, her expression pure emptiness.
She stands up, adjusting the gloves on her hands, ignoring the corpse like another piece of furniture in the room.
Her dark figure moves through the arcade neon toward the red emergency door beside the bathrooms.
Evelyn closes the door with a soft click, her shadow disappearing.
