by Lena Bourne
As soon as I remembered that something snapped inside my mind and I couldn’t unsee Crow’s dead eyes staring at me as he realized I’d shot him in the chest. He dropped his knife, clutches at his heart, blood flowing through his fingers, so thick and fast I felt it, saw it on my palms too. Then he dropped and died and we ran.
And the next thing I remember waking up in a soft warm bed with the arms of a man who almost died saving me around me.
That’s what I should focus on.
Not the deaths. Not the captivity. Not the fear. Not the guilt.
Freedom.
But that’d be a whole lot easier if Colt didn’t leave with no promises of when he’ll be back, just that he will be.
How long’s this room even paid for? He didn’t even tell me that.
Do I even deserve him to come back after all the death and misery I’ve caused?
But Crow would’ve killed me. He’d have cut me up like an animal. I start shivering as that image explodes in my mind so vividly I can hear the dry grass hissing and the cold wind sliding over my naked skin.
I get up and put on my dirty clothes. They smell of piss and sweat and being worn too long. Whether Colt ever returns or not, I’ll need some more clothes. There’s gotta be a mall around here somewhere, there’s always one nearby out in the country. And if there ever was anything that could get my mind off miserable, hard truths it was shopping.
Life’s too short to worry or fret or feel guilty and to not have fun in general. I learned that watching my mom slowly but surely lose her mind by the age of thirty. I might be going that way too. And I sure as hell won’t go there feeling bad. Or feeling guilty over killing a creep like Crow. The world’s a better, safer place without him in it.
Colt
Blaze is waiting for me at the end of the hallway, his scowling face about as grey, maybe greyer. I try to keep my face expressionless as I walk towards him, but that’s not an easy thing to do with all the conflicting things shooting through my mind.
How will I go see Brenda now?
How will Cross react if I disobey what is now his direct order to stay put?
“How did it go?” Blaze asks as I reach him.
“He told me to stick around and do as I’m told from now on,” I reply.
“Or else?”
“He didn’t come out and say that part, but I think we both know the answer,” I say, my voice low and toneless.
I don’t want this morning’s kisses to be the end of Brenda and me knowing each other. But they very well might be all I get of her. Fuck my unlucky stars.
“I know that look, Colt,” he says as he falls in step with me on the way to where we keep the food and drinks. I don’t respond to his provocation.
The “kitchen” empty and dark and full of coolers. The odor is plastic mixed with the smell of cheese that’s not kept at a low enough temperature. Not appetizing, but I’m starving. I grab two sandwiches from one cooler, and a couple of bottles of water, and a sports drink from another. With the mood I’m in, I might’ve opted for a beer, but there’s nothing alcoholic in this bunker unless one of the brothers has a stash. I doubt that, though. Cross doesn’t want us drunk on this job. It’s too important.
“No breakfast, huh?” Blaze says and takes a sandwich too.
“I was told to come right back here,” I say in a more surly tone than I intended and walk to the adjacent room where tables and benches are set up into a sort of makeshift cafeteria.
Blaze has caught on that I’m in no mood to talk and follows me in silence, then sits next to me in silence as I take the first bite of my sandwich. Once I’m done eating it and drinking a bottle and a half of water, I feel better. Food always has that effect on me.
“So, basically, Cross said you can’t go see that new lady friend of yours,” Blaze observes. “Only not in so many words. And it’s put you in a foul mood.”
He’s read my mind correctly, as he usually does. I just look at him, don’t even need to nod for him to know he’s right, as I rip open the plastic wrap around the second sandwich.
“She said she’s gonna wait for me at the motel I took her to, but why the fuck should she if I don’t show up back there soon?” I say in between bites.
“I doubt she’s gonna wait,” he muses annoyingly.
“And I can’t go see her without fucking things over even worse with Cross,” I say.
“But you want to do exactly that,” Blaze snaps. “It’s written all over your face.”
His eyes are angry, livid even, the way they always are when he thinks I’m acting like an idiot.
“She’s something else, man,” I tell him and chuckle. “I’ve never met a woman quite like her.”
Blaze rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I can name five you’ve said this same thing about and describe at least five more. And where are they now?”
“Where I left them,” I admit. “But this one is different, I swear. She’s just so wicked and yet so pure somehow. Like a force of nature. Like two opposing forces of nature meeting.”
“Christ, Colt, how do you come up with this shit?”
“And she saved my life. I can’t just disappear on her now.”
“After you endangered it saving hers,” Blaze says. “I’d say that makes you even.”
“I wouldn’t,” I say and chew the last bite of my second sandwich viciously, then wash it down with the sports drink, gulping it down so fast I start coughing.
Blaze pounds me on the back, trying to be helpful, but making it worse.
“Word is, this job shouldn’t take us very long at all. The main part’s done now that the president and his sons are out of the way,” he says after I get my coughing back under control. “You can just call her. Tell her you’re delayed.”
I look at him, speechless. Of course he’d have the solution to my problem, why wouldn’t he? He’s always had it until now.
“You’re a fucking genius, Blaze,” I say as I pull my phone from my pocket.
“And don’t you forget it,” he says and gets up, picking up my trash along with his before going to the door.
“I’ll try not to,” I say with a huge grin on my face.
“You always do,” he says, tosses our trash in the bin by the door, and exits.
It takes some work getting the number for the motel I left Brenda at because I was sure its name was Lone Star, but it’s actually Lucky Star. How fitting.
The receptionist’s nasal voice comes on after about ten rings.
“Room 6,” I say, and he drawls something I can’t make out before connecting me.
It rings and rings and rings. I just listen to the dial tone, trying not to think of the worst, although after five rings I’m pretty sure I’m not getting any good news at the end of this call.
The dial tone cuts off and my heart’s racing as I say, “Brenda?”
“Nah, man,” the receptionist’s voice says. I bet he’s that same pimply kid who rented me the room last night. “She left the room about an hour ago and headed towards the highway.”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“Yeah, I get it. I doubt she’ll be back. Too bad you paid for the whole week in advance. But I guess if you want your money back, I can refund some of it.”
That’s the least of my worry right now.
“If she does come back, ask her to call me,” I say, reciting my number.
“This isn’t some fancy hotel with a messenger service, you know?” he snaps.
“Come on, do me a solid,” I say, gritting my teeth to stop myself from yelling at him.
"Fine, but I doubt she’s coming back,” he says. “She looked like a woman with places to be, if you know what I mean.”
I actually don’t know what he means, and I don’t want to. Just the fact that he was checking her out is making me see red. She’s supposed to be mine, goddamn it!
All the positivity I managed to scrape up by having some breakfast and acting on Blaze’s brilliant idea has gone down
the drain again. Now I’m in a killing mood, which I guess works since that’s what we’re here for. Lucky star, my ass.
8
Brenda
I walked for ages, sweat flowing down my neck, face, and back in the heat and my legs getting progressively heavier, before I finally met another walker who told me the closest mall was actually in the other direction. And that there’s a frequent bus that goes to it.
She pointed out the bus stop, and I thanked her profusely like an idiot, explaining all about how I’m not from these parts, how I desperately need some lighter clothes for this weather, and how I wasn’t actually made for the heat. She nodded along but looked more and more alarmed the longer I spoke. I had all of that long wait for the bus and the long bus ride to the mall to wallow in my own weirdness and stupidity. By the time I finally reached it, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go in at all. I felt like a homeless person in my dirty clothes, which were now soaked through with fresh sweat.
The mall is wonderfully cold and I sit in one of the lounging areas, the fake leather cooling my legs even through the jeans I’m wearing. I’m sharing the circular sofa with three guys of varying ages, the husbands and boyfriends forced to accompany their better halves here. They were all playing with their phones when I approached, but now they’re giving me lasting sideways glances. Getting noticed by men used to fill me with joy and made me feel good. But after my stint with the Sinners, I’m finding I’d rather just blend back into the background. At least until I can get the world back under my feet.
The mall is packed, new, and very upscale. Most of the stores are the expensive ones, the kinds I used to shop at when I had Monarch to pay for all of it. But I’ll only spend $50 and no more. I have to think about that bus ticket to Vegas. But do I even want to go home? What’s waiting for me there? Pissed off Monarch? All those other guys that me being with would piss off Monarch even more? My mom?
Homesickness and tears well up in my chest as I think of her and I can have none of that. She hasn’t been a real mom to me for more than fifteen years, she couldn’t be, because of her sickness, but still. Yet I want my mommy right now, so I better get shopping before I start crying for real.
Just like every mall anywhere, this one must have a cheap store or two. I’m an expert at finding nice things for cheap, that’s how I grew up. And I’m a pro at getting up after I fall. I’ve had to do that a bunch of times too.
Maybe I shouldn’t put any hopes in Colt coming back for me like he promised. Maybe I should do it all on my own. I have some practice in that too.
But that kiss…I’ve heard of kisses that send sparks of electricity through your whole body, and of kisses that flood you with rivers of soft sweetness like honey, but I’ve never actually experienced either of those things when getting kissed, or anything similar to them for that matter. I did always try to imagine I did, pretend I did. But that was all a lie. This morning, it wasn’t a lie.
Plus, he rode to my rescue like a real-life prince in shining armor…or on a shining steed, or however that saying goes.
Just the memory of those two things brings a smile to my face and makes all my other problems seem so much less than they really are.
That’s why I told him I’ll stay and wait for him. Because I want to know if it’s real. If it’s really happening to me. If it’s possible for me to fall in love. Or if all of that is just a figment of my deranged imagination and the consequence of my losing my mind. But even if that’s true, at least I’ll say goodbye to reality in a good way. So why am I even worrying over it?
The sun is starting to set when I get off the bus at the motel, carrying my purchases in two large plastic bags. I spent more than I set out to spend, but this is the start of my new life and I want to look pretty.
The sky over the motel is a gorgeous blend of earthy tones-yellow, orange, even brown, mixed in with purple and blue. I haven’t seen the sunset in months, I suddenly realize, while I was shackled behind the counter at the Sinner’s bar. Maybe I glanced at it during one of my many trips to the trash cans, but I didn’t notice it, and it certainly didn’t seem gorgeous to me. So many things I missed out on, so many things I lost. But they’re mine for the taking again.
But no bike is parked in front of room number 6. I was hoping Colt would be back, would be waiting for me in the little motel room that seems like a palace room compared to the cell-like, stinky bedroom I was forced to sleep in at the Sinner’s clubhouse.
But the room is empty and hot because the AC’s been off all day, and it doesn’t smell all that nice at all. The scent of toilet predominates, but there’s also that stench of old furniture used for a long time by many different people mixed in with it, and bleach. I’ve always associated the smell of bleach with blood. Or with something really dirty.
But I won’t start wallowing and despairing just yet. Colt has things to do, he told me so, and his kiss and the soft look in his eyes when he finally did leave told me plainly that he didn’t want to.
He’ll be back. I know he will. There’s no other possibility. None that I’m willing to consider right now, anyway.
I empty my shopping bags to look through my purchases. There’s underwear of course, lacy and sexy, and even though it was cheap, I can pull it off. I also got a pair of jean short shorts, too many tank tops with funky drawings of skulls and roses, and even one with a Harley. I couldn’t decide between a red and black dress, so I got them both. One’s a simple tight thing that hugs my curves like a second skin, and the other is a flowing thing that reveals by hiding. I also found a pair of shiny black stilettos that I just might break my neck in, but damn do they look good with both the dresses. When Colt takes me out to dinner, no one will know I spent less than thirty bucks on my outfit. I got some makeup too, the cheap kind I never use anymore, but beggars can’t be choosers. I forgot to get anything to sleep in, but that’s all right. I don’t expect to be using pajamas to sleep in for the foreseeable future. The thought of that makes me all warm and tingly inside. I haven’t anticipated sex with a guy with this kind of innocent elation in ages. If ever.
But Colt doesn’t come while I’m folding and putting away my new purchases, and he’s not back by the time I finish taking a long shower.
It’s almost ten when I finally land on the firm surface of the reality that he probably isn’t coming back at all. That soft look in his eyes as he closed the door behind him could just as easily be translated into, “Goodbye forever.”
I can’t afford to dream, not really. The Sinners might be after me. Monarch might still be looking for me. I really shouldn’t have spent almost half my money to try and look good for a guy I might never see again.
I washed my jeans and my jacket before I took my shower and they’re both still soaking wet. Now I’ll have to lug them with me, heavy as they are, as I get on the bus to Vegas in short shorts and a tank top. I’m not looking forward to the freezing cold bus, or the freezing Nevada night when I get there. But I’m sure there’s an overnight bus going to Vegas. There are always buses going there and they’re usually cheap since the real aim is to have people spending all their money when they arrive, not to get there. At least I hope that’s true. And once I get there, Stormi will help me hide. At least I hope she will. The way we left it, I’m not sure I can count on her at all.
But I’ll make it right with her. I will. I have to. She’s my best friend in the whole world. My only friend. I should’ve treated her better. I think only resolution kind of thoughts as I stuff all my clothes back in the two large shopping bags and get dressed for the road.
The motel feels eerily deserted as I walk out of the room. There are cars parked sporadically along the long, single-story rectangular building lined with identical beige doors, and there are even lights in some of the windows, but it’s quiet as a grave and the velvet darkness of night hangs over it all like a shroud.
The reception area is well lit, but there’s no one behind the counter. I can hear the sound of some shooting video
game on full blast coming from the back, and the little bell on the counter is broken. And if it wasn’t beyond repair before, it is now, after I slammed my palm on it for five minutes.
“Hey!” I finally yell. “Does anyone work here?”
“Just a sec,” a nasal voice reaches me from the back.
What he actually means is just a couple more minutes, because it takes at least five before he finally comes to the front. He’s barely out of his teens, if that, and so skinny his white t-shirt and washed out, baggy jeans are hanging off him worse than they would off a scarecrow. His face is covered with pimples, and I’m, almost offended at the lewd look in his eyes as he checks me out from head to toe, paying special attention to my boobs. Guys liking how I look is not usually something that offends me.
“Oh, it’s you,” he says, in an oozing way that suggests he’s been thinking about me. Another thing that doesn’t sit quite right coming from this guy. “I didn’t think you’d be back after you left this morning.”
“I’m leaving now,” I tell him. “Is there a bus to Vegas leaving tonight anywhere close to here?”
He reaches over to a clear plastic display stand next to the cash register and fumbles through the many fliers it holds, until he finally pulls out a plain white one, with red letters on it.
“This is the bus schedule for the area,” he says and hands it to me. “But I don’t think that guy who brought you here will be too happy if you just disappear to Vegas. He was very disappointed when I told him you weren’t here earlier.”
“He was here? When?” I say, my heart pounding so hard I’m getting dizzy.
“Nah, he called,” the kid says. “He left his number for you. I have it here somewhere. Wait…”
He starts rummaging around his desk and on the shelf underneath it.
