Little Baby Faulkner

4

I knew coming 'round the corner in Dayton's little airport that I would see what I knew I would see which is what I had been seeing in my mind since the no-name red-carpet affair in LA and no amount of imagining it would do anything to change it in the here and now.

Baker was fat.

Standing there with her portly pudgy itsy bitsy top and pants—whoever knew they made such a tiny top for such a big girl!—Baker both hopped and ran toward me and in this smattering of other people waiting in this open-air welcoming area and looking at me! me! me! and at my former fuck buddy C Baker and she smiles and shakes her hair out (still beautiful hair) and it is natural blonde and I have fucked her once since her London child and Baker had said to me the next day, "Matthew, I think this was our best time yet."

And I said: "I think so too." But I hadn't meant it then and I didn't mean it now even in my own head. This is what I had come to see, to spend my weekend with, to do coke with. My thoughts went to assholes who spoke of beer goggles and coke goggles and I wanted to scream at them that it wasn't all that simple.

"Hey! Baker!"

She hugged me.

"Good to see you!" I said through scented hair, waves of lighter blonde, the smell of a head you would like to lie down next to, the hints of a pussy downstairs I would like to see again, forgetting if she was blonde down there, too—but no: she had darker hair around her puss it was thin, though, or shaved when I had seen it before. Truth be told, I didn't spend a lot of time with my face down there but I used to love looking between Baker's legs while my dick went in and out of her. It looked right, it looked like what was meant to be.

"I'm guessing this is your only bag?"

"Yep. Wow. It's great to be back here!"

"Here? I would rather be back in a coffin."

I put my arm around her and she walks me to this old VW Rabbit that has been in her family since before we met in high school.

"You have to help me pay for parking."

"You drove into this parking lot without enough money to pay for it?"

"I'm counting on you," Baker says, "to make my dreams come true. Unfortunately that is starting with this."

"What if I had got off the plane, seen Dayton, and turned right back around and left you here?"

"Is that what you were thinking of doing? Leaving me standing there waiting for you to show up and you become a no show and you never call me again and I don't even have money to pay to park?"

"Never was I thinking that," I choked.

"Don't worry, my friend," Baker says. "I've got such the weekend planned for you—for us!—and it only begins with your four dollars and 25 cents to get us the hell out of here."

I drop the money in her cupped hand.

"Have a nice day!" says the attendant.

"Have a nice day!" says C Baker.

"Now," C Baker says. "I bet you're hung-a-ry!"

"Yes. I want a special meal from my favorite restaurant. We can get it to-go if you like."

"What restaurant?"

"Uno. I say. "I want the Rattlesnake Pasta with a few additions. Do you have coke at the house? Do you have some on you?"

"Look, I don't have any on me that's because Brooklyn took the rest of it we were saving a good amount for us all when you got here but now we're out. There's a place we buy it but! but but but it's kind of expensive but I think you will like it—its quality, in every refinement—I've only ever bought coke in Ohio but this shit rips!" says the girl I flew here to fuck who is so much fatter than last time that I don't know if I'll be able to find the muscle to stick it in. "The coke you have in California is prob'ly better than it is here."