Better Run

by Shel Stone

  Why had she left her damn bag in the locker? She could have used it. There was too much shit for her pockets.

  Taking the bus again, she headed over to the strip and sought out the back alleys where she would likely find employment.

  Ugh, the places were rough, and most turned her away when she said she wanted bar work. A sweaty fat dude said he’d give her a job if she blew him. Yeah, things weren’t quite that desperate, so she continued.

  The place where she got a bite was covered in cheap tinsel and a mirror ball. It was pretty much the low of the low, but one of their bar girls had just left for Reno, so there were a couple nights a week she could take. Plus the owner was female, which wasn’t necessarily a bonus, but she wouldn’t have to blow anyone.

  Chapter 9

  BACK AT HIS APARTMENT, Palmer could only move slowly. Moving hurt. Sitting hurt. Everything hurt. There were pain pills, but he didn’t want to take them. He actually quite liked the pain. Shrinks would probably make something of that, but he wasn’t a guy for introspection. Other than business, he didn’t plan much for the future, and there was no point looking back.

  The finest restaurants in town delivered his meals and he ran his business like he always did. If not seen, his presence was still felt. It wasn’t worth going out just yet. It would hurt his rep if people saw him like this.

  Carlos took care of anything that needed to be done in person. Being robbed might not help, but word about him taking out the two robbers had spread around. It was also known that he’d been asking around about this girl who had now left town.

  Sitting on his exclusively designed couch, he put his feet up. He sat bare-chested, because clothes tended to press on the wounds, and it was bad enough with the white dressings. He hated them, but conceded they were necessary.

  A nurse came to help, but he sent her away at night, preferring to tend to himself. Not a guy who liked being coddled and fussed over.

  Darkness had fallen outside and the doors to the balcony were open. The lights of the city stretched and then the darkness of the ocean. He liked this apartment. It suited him. The décor lacked personality some would say, but like with most things, he didn’t display personality. Things kept on the inside. Largely his life here was a show—and he was always on show. Unwinding wasn’t something he could afford. It led to bad decisions and inattentiveness.

  Pulling the wireless keyboard over, he opened up the internet on his large TV and searched Alicia Murray. Nothing of importance, some old school photos. But she didn’t go by Alicia; she went by Nook, and typing in Nook Murray, got him her Instagram profile.

  There she was, staring at him. Mostly they were photos of her partying. Carefree and light. She was smiling in most of the photos, or looking utterly haughty. Her hair seemed to change weekly. In one photo, she had cotton candy pink hair, in another, it was like a rainbow. Her clothes were tight and revealing. There was nothing about herself she held back, and it was in your face.

  Some of her poses were provocative, but in a ‘fuck you’ way, rather than seductive. Dancing, posing. Many of the photos were at gigs or clubs. There were other girls too, friends. Blowing kisses, winking, smiling. The guys around her adored her—he could see it on their faces. These photos were about her saying what she thought rather than her worried about what they thought. It was in line with the girl he’d met. She didn’t perform for other people’s benefit.

  There was no denying she was sexy. Again, heat rose up him and his body tensed. The cloying heaviness of desire weighed him down. If he wouldn’t be in utter agony, he’d do something about it, but he couldn’t move. So he just had to sit there and feel it deepen and form in his body.

  Her waist was perfect and she liked to show it off. Her skin smooth and her eyes smoldering. A girl who was trouble—a girl in a great deal of trouble. It was almost a shame to kill her, but circumstances said it had to be. She’d stolen his product, his gold. What was she doing with it? Selling it? Putting it up her nose? As of yet, she hadn’t turned up anywhere on the grid. No one had seen her.

  Carlos had, however, uncovered her past and there was a mother up north. Scouts reported the girl wasn’t there, but it might be time to pay a visit. Did she still have a bedroom there? Posters on the walls? She must have been quite young when she’d left. He wanted to know.

  *

  Why anyone would live in Buffalo when you could live in Miami, Palmer didn’t know. It was cold and miserable. The women wrapped up and harried, trailing kids behind them. It wasn’t his kind of place, but it was where Nook was from—or Alicia Murray as she was really called. She didn’t look like an Alicia, Palmer thought as she stood on the stoop of a run-down house. It was light green and white painted wood, probably built in the forties, and in what was the worst neighborhood in Buffalo. No wonder she’d run all the way to Miami. There was nothing much to hang onto here.

  A guy answered the door. Skinny, whose jeans were twisted sideways and held up by a belt. “Yeah,” he said, a joint in his hand.

  “I’m looking for Mrs. Murray.”

  “No, bud. No one here by that name.”

  “That’s my name, dipshit,” a croaky women said. She came to the door, her brown and graying hair piled haphazardly on top of her head. “What you want?”

  “I’ve actually come to see you about your daughter. She’s won some money in a sweepstake.”

  The woman’s eyes lit up. “How much?”

  “Ten thousand dollars.”

  “You’re totally in the wrong place. She lives in Miami. How'd you get this address?”

  “She must have put it down in her entry.”

  “Little snot was probably drunk,” the man said. Sitting down on an old couch just inside the door. Bent, his knees were thicker than his thighs. “Never was too clever, although she likes to think she is.”

  There was no mention of a father in any of her paperwork, so Palmer guessed this was the mother’s boyfriend. Perhaps the reason the girl had left home and made her way to Miami. This was a crappy place to grow up. His own background wasn’t much better, although he’d worked hard to leave it behind. And running around robbing people certainly wasn’t how one did it.

  “I’ve got an address somewhere,” the woman said, moving to sort through a drawer.

  “Have you heard from her recently?”

  “About a week back.”

  So she’d been in touch with her mother since leaving. That was interesting, because there had been no updates on social media. “Hey, I’ll skip the address, but I’ll take her number.”

  “Sure,” the woman said and stopped searching, instead walked over to a table and brought back her phone. “Not quite sure how to work this thing. Mainly just answer it when she calls. Not sure it’s got any money on it.”

  “That’s alright,” he said with a smile. “I’ll take a quick look and write down the number.” The look of him obviously didn’t challenge his barely credible cover of sweepstake informer. The woman handed over her phone. It had no password. Instead of searching through it, he opened the back and took out the SIM card. The woman was none the wiser. “Here you go,” he said, handing the phone back to her, while slipping the card into his pocket.

  Nook was lucky he didn’t whip out his gun and simply shoot the woman and her companion. He had a silencer and could simply do it, but he didn’t like shooting innocent victims. This woman looked like she was doing a good job killing herself all on her own. “Good evening,” he said and walked away.

  “Otherwise I can take the money,” the woman called as he walked away. “If you have trouble finding her, I mean.”

  Palmer snorted, but didn’t look back. Given the chance the woman would probably sell her daughter out for ten grand. This meeting told him everything he wanted to know. She wasn’t coming back here. Hadn’t even told her mother she’d moved.

  Chapter 10

  “OKAY, HERE ARE your drinks,” Nook said, swerving around the hand going for her ass. “Three Corona
s and a vodka lime.

  “Sure you don’t want to stay with us, honey?” one of them asked with a leering smile. Come in these doors and every dude thinks he’s an Adonis. Despite her efforts, his hand was now firmly on her ass.

  “Wish I could, baby,” she said, “but if that dude doesn’t get his drink, he’s gonna start wailing on people, you know.” She pointed at the big, biker guy with tats on his neck. Surprisingly, the big guy was actually nice and respectful, but in the hierarchy of guys, he was on top and others slinked away. So what if she used that hierarchy for her own benefit? It worked and the patrons were less likely to hassle her for not sitting in their laps or whatever else they wanted. Because she served bar, some of them felt she was free, as opposed to the dancers who they had to pay for.

  The slimy guy grumbled, but didn’t argue. Who wanted to argue with a big biker dude with tats? It was one of a number of strategies she used to keep them under control. It was a large part of the job, managing these animals. Really, she worked in a zoo.

  Behind her bar, she stepped out of her heels. Her feet were killing her. Placing her toes down, she stretched them out. The cool of the ice seeped up. The place was warm. They kept it warm so the guys would feel comfortable and relaxed, less likely to get up and leave.

  It was coming up to clock off time. The patrons were drunk, the girls were earning, and she’d done okay in tips. Lisa, the other girl, did better, but she let the hands linger. There was a strict no touching policy, but it wasn’t enforced. Lisa did other things too, but then she drove a nice, late model car. Nook had no car and had to take the bus home, which was a downright joy late at night when the freaks came out and traveled around on public transportation.

  “You want a ride home?” Frank asked. The cousin of the woman who owned the place.

  “No thanks, although I appreciate the offer.” The offer was really asking if she wanted to go home and screw his brains out, which—yeah, no. But it wasn’t worth being rude to him because he would be here day in and day out. Persistence might prove it necessary, but she hoped he’d get the message without having to resort to more drastic measures.

  “Well, you be careful. There’s a lot of weirdos out there.”

  There were a lot of weirdos in here, but she had to say, Vegas did tend to draw the weirdos like nowhere else.

  In a way, she missed seeing history in the buildings like she did in Miami. People went on about Vegas’ glorious history, but that history wasn’t well preserved, instead ignored for the new and shiny. “Alright, I might take off,” she said, putting her feet back in her shoes.

  Putting her tray away, she walked back to the dressing room, where the girls were gathered. There was only three of them on tonight and they took turns. Most of the patrons were too drunk to notice it was the same three girls again and again in different outfits. They managed the swap overs like magicians.

  “Hey,” Nook said as she reached her stuff and pulled off the tiny little tank top with the bar logo on it. Then the little shorts and she pulled on her jeans and boots. Her camo tank top and the jacket it was really too hot for. Her feet gloried in being flat for the first time in hours. The platform stilettos were a requirement, but they killed her feet.

  “You got a place yet?” Veronica asked. Her name wasn’t really Veronica, but if you were drunk enough, she looked just like Veronica Lake. Great hair.

  “No, not yet. I have to do some serious looking on my day off.”

  “I’ll let you know if I hear of anything.”

  “Thanks,” Nook said and grabbed her new bag. It was cheap and nasty, but it had to do for now. “See you later.”

  As she walked out into the dark parking lot at the back, her phone rang as she walked around the building. Digging it out of her bag, she saw her mom’s number. Had to be quite late for her, which meant she was drunk as hell.

  “Hey, mom, I can’t really talk right now. I’m running for the bus.”

  “Which bus would that be?” a male voice said, deep and smooth. It sounded familiar, but she wasn’t sure. Goosebumps spread across her arms and the hair on the back of her neck rose.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to know where you are.”

  In a panic, Nook hung up. She’d actually bought one of those old-fashioned phones with no GPS in it, so there was no chance some app could reveal her location. In fact, it was too old to have apps. It did texts and calls, and that was it. It had cost her five bucks at a charity shop, but it worked. The battery was crappy, but it did its job.

  She jumped as it rang again, but she refused to answer it. Instead, she ran. All the adrenaline in her body needed somewhere to go, so she ran blindly down the road, past the bus stop. She’d stop at the next one.

  The phone beeped, but she ignored it. Her legs pounded the pavement as she ran, until her lungs started burning. There was another bus stop ahead and she sat down on a metal railing and waited.

  Taking deep breaths, she tried to recover from the running, daring herself to not look at the message that had obviously arrived. It had to be from him. No one else had this number. How the fuck had he found her? How did he call on her mother’s number? Nausea was welling up in her stomach.

  Unable to help herself, she looked at the phone and exhaled as she flipped it open. There was a little pixelated symbol of an envelope on the tiny screen. Steeling herself she worked through the screens to read the text.

  Aren’t you curious why I have your mother’s phone?

  A sickening rush of nausea ran through her. What had he done? An image of her mother lying in a pool of blood crashed into her mind. No, she reasoned, this was collateral.

  Another text came through and she almost dropped the phone in shock as it vibrated.

  I want my stuff back.

  Again, Nook exhaled. Yes, now they had something to bargain with. With shaking fingers, she hit the call button. It rang twice.

  “Hello, Nook,” he said calmly.

  “Palmer.”

  They were silent for a moment.

  “Where’s my mom? I want to speak to her.”

  He didn’t answer. “Well, she can’t come to the phone right now.”

  A grimace contorted her face, but she tried not to make a sound. “Is she alright?” Her voice as thin and shaky.

  “For now, but I can’t guarantee she’ll stay that way.”

  “If you touch her, I’ll kill you.”

  “As I recall, you already tried.”

  “That was nothing to do with me. I had no idea they were going to do that.” She was standing now and talking quite loudly. People on the other side of the street were noticing her.

  “Yet, I have two bullet holes in my chest and missing product. Not to mention my gold. I’ll be wanting that back now.”

  “Where’s my mother?”

  “Where’s my gold?”

  “Fine, you promise,”—it sounded stupid even as she said it, asking a drug dealer to promise not to do something—“to never go anywhere near my mother again and I will return it.”

  There was silence down the phone. She could even imagine him smiling. “So you still have it, then? Good to know. So you wish to bargain with me. Not sure I’m in the mood to bargain considering what’s happened.”

  The bus came and she had to take it because it was the last one for the night. Otherwise she’d be walking home.”

  “Where are you?” Palmer asked.

  “Fuck off,” she said. “You want your stuff back on not?”

  “Of course,” he said after a while as if humoring her.

  “Because I can go right to the cops and spill my guts. If you’ve done anything to my mother, I’ll go right now and you’ll never get your product back.”

  “You’ll spend a lot of years in jail.”

  “Maybe, but if you’re threatening my mother, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

  “When your mother is such a lush,” he said. It proved that he’d met her.

  Nook
had to hold herself back from kicking the bench in front of her. “I will do the time if I have to,” she said. “You touch my mother and I’ll make sure you spend it with me. I’ll take us both down.”

  “You have no idea what I can get away with.”

  “Not in Buffalo, you can’t.”

  There was silence for a moment. “Tell me where you are.”

  “No. Do we have a deal?”

  In a way, she couldn’t believe she was giving up her collateral on the very first communication between them. And the fucking dude had her number, but no way of knowing where she was—unless he could get the cell phone company to do something to triangulate, or whatever.

  Urgently, she hung up. It was a knee-jerk reaction. How long was it before someone could trace the call? But that was the FBI and shit.

  The phone rang again and she sat with it in her hands as if it were toxic. She wasn’t going to answer this time. Instead, she watched the bus get closer and closer to her neighborhood. Or she thought so. It was hard to see anything in the darkness outside, until she recognized a store she knew.

  Pressing the button, she got off and ran home. It was a dangerous neighborhood, but nowhere near as dangerous as what was on the other end of the phone conversation.

  Chapter 11

  THE GIRL HAD HUNG UP on him and now wasn’t answering. It had been an interesting conversation and a lot of cards had been put down. She still had the product, or she said she did. It could be a stalling tactic, but she sounded sincere. He didn’t know her well enough to tell, but apparently she’d been running for the bus, which meant she was in a city.

  She was also willing to do drastic things if he pushed her too far. If she went to the cops, they would both go down—if he touched the mother. The mother out of the equation, there wasn’t much risk. The Miami cops wouldn’t move on him having drugs in his safe based on her testimony. The link was not direct enough. So provided he didn’t move on the mother, it was an empty threat.