by Nikki Wild
“What happened? Misty, what…”
“Talk and walk,” she prompted, pulling faster. We stalked through the woods, away from the tree, away from my best friend’s body. “I think he knew I wasn’t going to let him kill you. He swung the gun round on me, I shot him first, his bullet hit nothing but the sky. Do you think he was being blackmailed, too?”
Big Mickey. The fucking traitor. I could have laughed. Everyone else betrayed us, why not him? He was perfect. Close enough to know what we were up to. Close enough to get even closer. Shit. Shit.
I made a silent vow that from now on I would only trust barbers, bartenders, and bikers.
And her.
Which reminded me….
“You almost believed him,” I said, still letting her pull me, the ground feeling ethereal under my feet. She glanced back at me, her eyes an apology.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Just for a minute, I thought…maybe…I just…I’m sorry, Rev. This whole thing has my head spinning.”
That hurt. A lot. A whole fucking lot. Even for a minute, it hurt. Petulant, I pulled my hand away.
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” she said, sighing as she stopped walking. “I guess… it wouldn’t be the first time today I found out someone I love betrayed me.”
“I would never believe that about you.”
She looked pissed. She had no right. I had the right to be pissed. She stepped to me, putting a hand on my chest.
“We’re not in high school, Rev,” she said. “This is real fucking life. My life was on the line and not in any metaphorical fucking way. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that for one little moment I was willing to listen to some crazy-ass lies about you, and wonder if they were true. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve never killed a man before, and there’s a guy laying there with a bullet in his chest. I really am sorry, Rev. And you can be pissed at me all you want. But we need to get that money, and get the hell out of here because I don’t think he’s lying about Jackie. Use that big fucking brain of yours to try and understand.”
I wanted to be pissed, but she was right about at least one thing. We did need to get out of there. My eyes roamed over her shoulder, in the direction she was pulling me. And my eyes landed on something that momentarily made me forget everything.
“A dogwood?” Misty whipped around, her eyes following where my finger pointed.
“Oh, Dad,” she sighed, shaking her head. I took a step forward, and could see the slightest, saddest smile on her lips. Stuck in the ground, a cross shaped plank of wood in a ring of salted earth. A sad little puppy was painted on it. Misty looked at me, shrugged, still with that sad smile. “One last dad joke. Start digging.”
Chapter 34
Misty
The suitcase was heavy, and I let Rev carry it. I watched it bounce against his shin as we made our way back through the woods. We both strained our ears, listening for anything that might spell trouble. I hated the feel of dirt on my hands and under my nails. I’d always hated that feeling. Being dirty. The suitcase was packed in the stuff. But what was inside was far more important.
I collected my old cigar box from behind the tree. Passing Mickey’s body, I bit my lip. I should never have let him get a single sentence out. He’d been chasing Rev, shooting at him. I should have put him down the first chance I got and that little decision had almost gotten us both killed. It was too late now. Watching Rev in front of me, focusing on the back of his head, I tried not to linger on how close I’d been to losing him. It made my heart feel like it was being squeezed in a vise. Almost lost him, because for one moment I thought…
“We should probably be running,” Rev observed when we reached the edge of the woods. How long, I wondered, would Mickey’s body lay there? Someone would come looking for him, right? Jackie, his boss - or blackmailer?
Did it matter?
No, it didn’t. It was just blood on my hands, that was all. Just a man I killed.
Rev, impatient, reached for my hand and started jogging, pulling me behind him, just as I had pulled him towards the money. The money. God damn it was a lot of money. We didn’t have time to count it, but the suitcase was lined end to end with neat stacks of hundreds.
Who knew Dad had so much stocked away? Why hadn’t he used it to run when he had the chance? Maybe he planned to - but he just had to chase one more score…
Or maybe this money had always been mine. Maybe he never touched it, because he always meant for me to have it. Maybe he let himself go to jail because this money was the only good thing he could give me.
The bitch of it was, I’d never know.
I was a bit out of breath when we reached the car.
When we saw the BMW coming over the hill in the rear view, the rest of my breath left me.
“Shit,” Rev hissed, and peeled us onto the road. Somewhere deep inside me, I hoped that it was nothing. Just a couple out for a drive on the country roads. Okay, so there were two Beamers. Maybe it was two couples. Okay, so they were speeding up, zooming past the house, getting bigger in the mirrors, even as Rev pushed the Bel Aire up to fifty. Maybe it was two couples with two pregnant women, both about to give birth. There’s no way, in all Mickey’s lies, he had told just one truth. Jackie didn’t know where we were.
When the first bullet hit, I couldn’t pretend anymore.
The bulletproof glass of the back window didn’t shatter, but it cracked. Dad would have been furious. He’d spent a small fortune having custom made glass installed on the old car. Staring at the webbed circle directly behind my head, I had a sudden appreciation for his paranoia.
Thanks, dad…
Rev’s muscles bunched, his eyes going steely, getting that look I’d only seen once before. In the backseat, Purrloin was wailing a protest at our speed, and the turn we took too fast. Poor thing had been stuck in that carrier for far too long, I really needed to…
Crack.
I needed to not worry about that right now.
“Rev…” I breathed, hearing myself hyperventilating. “Rev, it’s Jackie, it’s gotta be…ohmygod, we’re screwed, we’re…”
“Misty, I told you,” he gritted out. “I’m going to get us out of this. Trust me.”
He gave me a one second glance, and I melted back into the seat while he pushed us past sixty. Up ahead, I could see the insane curve that would take us westward. The curve skirted a field and a huge barn that had been abandoned for longer than I could remember. Bracing myself for the turn, I screeched when it never came. Rev took the car right into the field, slamming over the bumpy terrain, right towards the barn. I wanted to scream, wanted to grab the wheel away, wanted to beat some sense into him.
Instead, I trusted him. Even as another bullet dinged my father’s car, I just watched the barn loom closer and closer, ringed with trees. The rear view showed one of the Beamers gaining on us, going faster than us. Everything screeched. We finally turned. Right before hurtling ourselves into the darkness of the barn, Rev spun us back towards the road, the Bel Aire airborne for one awful moment as it bounced over a hillock.
Crashing crescendoed behind us, and I forced myself to peek at the mirror, at the dilapidated barn finally giving up the ghost, caving in on itself, and on the car that now poked, bumper first, , out of the hay-strewn and dusty rubble, wheels spinning but going nowhere. The planks and beams shifted once as the car tried to rush free, but by then I was too busy looking into the window of the other Beamer as we passed it.
An angry face snarled back at me, and then I was looking at the barrel of a gun. Shrieking, pulling at Rev, I ducked - but the bulletproof glass kept me safe once more. Judging by the spiderwebs crawling over it, it might not repeat the performance. I spun around as we hit pavement, the second Beamer still on our tail.
“Misty,” Rev said. “How good a shot are you?”
“Why don’t you ask Mickey,” I said, managing to sound brave when I was seconds away from pissing my panties. No sooner did I answer than the back window finally
shattered.
“If you think you could take out a tire, it’d be a big help,” he said, forcing the car up to seventy. I could see a rogue bundle of weeds sticking up from the front fender like Alfalfa’s haircut. I grabbed the gun and spun around, aiming out the broken window. This time, it was Rev trusting me. Time to return some favors.
There are only a few things on this earth that feel as good as firing a gun and hitting your target on the first shot. Sex, certainly. For me, nachos. Probably finishing a marathon, if you’re a bit more health conscious. I felt the bullet blast forward, and blinked - when I opened my eyes again, I was treated to the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
The second car spun out, squealing its way into a ditch. My hands were shaking now, but it was alright. Now, they could shake. For now. We weren’t safe yet. Wouldn’t be for a long time. I didn’t even know how long. But for now, the road behind us was clear. And the road ahead was smooth.
Purrloin felt very differently. As cold wind whipped against us from the open back, she was pitching a kitty fit. I slumped down, feeling the car slow, dropping the gun and looking at Rev. His knuckles slowly regained some color, having been squeezed white by his grip. We cruised down to fifty. It was another ten miles to the highway, twenty to the Interstate. If we managed to avoid any cops, and if we managed to avoid Jackie’s further detection, and if all the heavens decided to smile upon us, we might make it out of this alive.
There was nothing to do but head for the border and pray for the very fucking best.
“Baby…” I said, looking at Rev, taking in his profile, wanting so badly to know that we would be alright.
“We’re good,” he said, turning to me. Somehow, he managed to smile. “We’re good, Misty. You hear that, Purrloin? We’re good.”
He had one hand on the clutch, and I covered it with my own. We’re good, I told myself. The money was safe under my feet, and we were all alive, all three of us, alive. We’re good.
Chapter 35
Rev
“Mind if I use your phone, Ben?”
“Depends,” he grinned. “Ya gonna call the cops?”
I offered him the biggest smile I could muster. Any older, and that joke would be growing mold. And it was only half a joke, anyway. Ben and I might have been tight in Guvcheck, but better men than me had been known to rat if the price was right. After eight hours behind the wheel and four sleepless hours in the passenger seat, I wasn’t as enthusiastic as I could have been when it came to assuring my old friend I wasn’t trying to throw him under the bus.
All the same, Ben handed me his phone, a little burner that screamed untraceable. I left Misty to study her new passport, memorizing the details and stroking the glossy photo of herself beside her new name: Holly Hamilton.
I didn’t go too far, out of respect to our host. Just far enough that you’d have to strain to hear. While it rang, I cast a glance at the suitcase tucked tightly between Misty’s calves. My smile when I looked at it was much bigger, much more genuine. A cold, hard million is enough to overwhelm even the most intense sleep deprivation.
“Piper,” Luis’ voice barked into the phone.
“Luis,” I said. “It’s Rev.”
“Hijole!” Luis exclaimed, shock back into his native tongue. “Where the fuck are you, man? Everyone’s talking about this shit, dios mio, you’re alive…” I could hear the phone move, poorly muffled by his hand. “Hey! Tony! You owe me fifty bucks!”
“Luis,” I snapped. “Can you not? Jesus, what if I was trying to fake my death?”
“Oh, sorry,” Luis said, not in the least bit apologetic. “Well, come on. What the hell happened?”
“Who’s there?” I asked. It was 7pm back home. The Pied Piper would be in full swing.
“The regulars, and then some,” Luis said. “You really shot Big Mickey?”
“I need Slickboy, Tanner, and Shark,” I said. “Get me any one of them on this phone, and I promise there will be a letter in your mailbox by the end of the week, with every dirty detail.”
“Done,” Luis said. “Man, it is good to hear you. Not just because you’re gonna make me a rich man. There’s 3 to 1 odds against you. Shit, what about Misty?”
“She’s fine,” I said. “We’re fine.”
“Make that a very rich man,” Luis said. “Here. Wait a minute.”
Again, the poor attempt at muffling the mouthpiece as Luis shouted out Tanner’s name.
“Alright, I got Tanner here, and Slickboy right beside him.”
“Great,” I said. “Wait. One minute. Leathers there?”
“Ah,” Luis’ voice dropped. “Of course, you wouldn’t know. Man, Leathers is bound for glory. Tucked neat and cozy in a pinewood box. Happened last night, went easy in his sleep. Guess his lease with the devil finally ran out.”
My stomach turned. Leathers was twice as old as the hills, but my instinct told me he wasn’t cut from his mortal coil by any natural cause. I’d never know one way or another, but it was all too easy to believe Jackie O’Callahan might have had a hand in it. And, by extension, us.
“Shit,” I breathed.
“Here,” Luis said. “They’re getting impatient.”
A second later, I heard Tanner’s voice on the phone.
“Whozzit?”
“It’s your fucking conscience calling, shitstain,” I said, bile rising in my throat. Just hearing his voice got me shaking in anger. “You stupid, two-faced, snake-skinned coward.”
A long intake of breath on the other line. I could see Tanner’s eyes going wide as he looked at Slickboy, their expressions pained. And behind that instinctive guilt, the squeaky wheels of their minds turning to try and figure out how they could trace this call, use it to keep themselves safe for another day. Another week. Another month. Maybe even a year. Maybe even the rest of their sorry, worthless lives.
“Rev,” Tanner said. “Where are you? Where’s Misty? We heard…”
“Yeah? You heard? From who? Jackie O’Callahan?”
“I don’t know what you’re…”
“Shut up, old man,” I spit. “I know you beat the shit out of that girl and pinned it on me. I know you were gonna sell Misty down the river. I know Shark gave up our location. I know everything you team of rim-licking, maggot-balled, piss kittens did. Millions made you who you are. Y’all owe him half your fucking retirement funds. And as soon as he’s gone, you’re helping someone skin his daughter and hang her in the smokehouse. I’d ask how you sleep at night, but I know you bloodsucking leeches can’t even tell night from day, down there at the bottom of the shit swamp you call home.”
“Woah, woah, Rev,” Tanner croaked. “You’ve got it all wrong. It wasn’t like that.”
“Oh no? Then what was it like, Tanner? Did Jackie get down on his knees and suck your knobs in return for betraying your best friend? Or was it the opposite?”
Silence, the muffled sound of speech.
“Rev, wherever you are, it’s not safe,” Tanner said, voice dripping with false concern. “They’re out for blood after what you did to Big Mickey. You’ve got to get somewhere safe. We can help you, Rev.”
I laughed. Actually laughed. A nice, big belly laugh.
“Help me? Help me? Like Shark helped me with my brother? I almost felt bad, you know, asking him to come all that way for my junkie-ass brother. Tell me. I didn’t get to see what Jackie’s men did to my house. Did they burn that, too?”
“I don’t know anything about that, Rev, I swear. Where’s Misty? Can we speak to Misty? I wanna hear her voice, know she’s safe…”
It was all I could do not to chuck the phone against a wall. Rage flowed through me like a monsoon.
“Never say her name again,” I seethed. “Not after what you did. You don’t ever say her name. Anyway, I didn’t call for your ‘help’. If anything, I’m doing you a massive fucking favor. You must’ve already figured it out, but we won. We’ve got the fucking money. Early retirement, motherfucker.”
�
�Well, Rev, that’s…”
“Shut up,” I said. “How do you think Jackie’s gonna feel once it becomes clear that he lost? That he expended a lot of time and energy and money and men - and he lost? Do you think he’s gonna feel like forgiving and forgetting? Do you think he’ll consider your contribution to his failure good enough? Or do you think he just might take it out on y’all? He’s got no reason to keep you around anymore, does he? Not sure? Ask Leathers.”
Silence. Beautiful, sweet silence.
“I suggest you get your ass to someone who wants to hear what you have to say about Jackie. Someone in blue, maybe. Prison might just be the safest place for you. But I’m sure he’s got friends in there, because Millions damn sure didn’t fall on a knife twelve times. I’d say I pity you, but I don’t. You don’t deserve pity. You deserve rain on your funeral. God spitting on your grave. Rotting in hell is too good for you boys, Tanner.”
Hanging up that phone felt like closing a door. We were 5 hours from the Mexican border, and then a week away from San Jose. They couldn’t catch us if they tried. I looked at Misty, not very surprised to see her still fingering the pages of her passport, with its fake stamps from trips she’d never taken. Ben was Odessa’s best counterfeiter, and I knew damn well he had zero connections to anyone in Sorghum Bend, and even if he did spill the beans, we’d be in Mexico before anyone could get down here to do something about it.
I handed him back his phone and settled onto the couch next to Misty. Her eyes were bagged and puffy, both of us needing sleep. I just wanted to go, but I knew we had to rest. Even Purrloin looked tired, having slept more than either of us in the safety of her carrier. Outside, the Bel Aire looked very much worse for the wear. Ben’s cousin was on his way from a chop shop with an old salvage title jeep, the perfect kind of vehicle for an off-road border crossing. Millions’ old car would be in a few thousand tiny pieces by morning, but Misty seemed almost happy to finally let it go.
