"Don't just stand there," Darryl ordered. "Tell me what you remember!" Iris just hitched her thumb back toward the living room. She obviously wanted Darryl out of her makeshift studio and would not continue otherwise. He gladly complied. It was worth it if it gained him some answers. "Okay, talk," Darryl demanded as soon as he stepped back into the living room.
"I'm gonna go get a beer." Darryl's disbelieving expression must have been evident on his face. They were finally on the threshold of remembering some details of the previous twenty-four hours. Nothing could be more important than that. "I'm gonna need something strong," Iris explained, "if I'm gonna remember all the nasty things you said we did back in that hotel room."
She seemed to take forever in the kitchen. Darryl paced a bit in anticipation of her revelation. Other than flashes of engaging with Iris in a startling variety of, as she said, 'nasty things' in that hotel room (he shuddered), nothing else about that night or what led up to it emerged from the dark recesses of his mind.
Iris walked back into the room carrying a bottle of what looked like dark ale. Darryl had tried drinking it in college but found the taste stronger than he could handle. "All week I been in the lounge of this little Motel Six drawing sketches for the tourists," Iris began. She gestured for Darryl to take a seat on the couch.
"Which one?"
"The one on Tropicana. It ain't fancy like the Hilton, but the tourists like it." She took a seat on the other end of the couch. "It was a long day cause they found out I don't sketch on the weekends and they all wanted to make sure they got they chance." Iris took a long drag from the bottle. "I had just finished drawing these two nice old folks been married almost fifty years. Put a little extra details in the sketch for 'em. The old man gave me a nice tip...and grabbed my ass when his wife wasn't looking. Anyway," she returned to the subject at hand, " I took a break before I started the next sketch, to stretch and take a piss, you know. When I got back, a waiter was leaving a tall glass of iced tea on the table. Compliments of the hotel, that's what he said. I should have known shit was fishy," Iris complained. "I was there all week and they didn't leave no iced tea none of them other days."
"Stay focused," Darryl commanded.
Iris cut her eyes at him. "Me and the waiter talked for a while. Then my next customer came and I got back to work. After I finished the last sketch it was about twenty to six, so I sipped on that iced tea to pass time. I was booked to six." She shrugged. "That's the last thing I remember. That mufucka Craig must have slipped me something in that tea."
Darryl ran a tired hand over his face. "That really doesn't help much. I was near that Motel Six scouting out some locations for Spielberg's next movie. In fact, I was outside a couple of Motel Sixes. But I didn't go inside any of them." He paused to reflect. "Well, I don't think I did."
Darryl wondered how it was that such an event could be completely erased from his memories. During the taxi ride over to Iris' place, he'd done a google search on drugs capable of such a thing. The drug that kept coming up was Ecstasy, the so-called club drug. It only took twenty minutes to take effect, lasted up to eight hours and left the recipient feeling overly...affectionate...to everyone, no matter how unsuitable .
Iris drained the last of the beer in the bottle in one long pull and set it on the coffee table with a thud. "Fuck this," she cursed. "I'm gonna call Craig. And if he don't give up some answers, you and me are going over there."
Darryl wasn't easily frightened but what Iris was suggesting was that they confront a man she believed capable of drugging drinks. Who knew how far this Craig was willing to go to protect the secret of what he'd done. "Maybe we should just..." Darryl's voice trailed off. Iris was already dialing the phone.
"Mufucka, what did you do to me?...Don't give me that shit! I saw you in the wedding video!"
Darryl could only hear Iris' side of the conversation. His mind filled in what he thought Craig must be saying. "I called you to be a witness? Oh, please!" Iris spat out. "I wouldn't never be marrying no skinny white boy unless somebody slipped me a mickey."
Darryl ignored Iris' insults. "I just want to know how I got involved," he leaned toward her and whispered just loud enough for her to hear. Iris planted her meaty hand squarely in Darryl's face and pushed him away.
" ...Who is that? That 's him! The white boy you drugged me into marrying...Why is he at my house? None of your damn business!" She placed a hand on her ample hip. "...Oh, you wanna know why he here? He keep asking me where you live so he can come fuck you up for what you did to him!"
Darryl snatched the receiver from Iris' hand and slammed it down on the base. "Are you crazy?! Look, I don't care any more how this marriage happened or what ungodly things we did to each other in that room last night. Bright and early Monday morning you and I are gonna be waiting at the courthouse when it opens. And we will start the procedures to get this marriage annulled!"
"You act like I'm tryin' to hold onto you," Iris retorted. "Trust me, boo-boo. You ain't my type. I want you out of my life just as bad as you do."
"Then we're agreed." Darryl stood up and headed toward the front door. "I'll get a cab and swing by here Monday morning around 7. Be ready."
