Two Crazy, One Wild

by Shaye Marlow

  I cleared my throat. “And I don’t imagine they own a dahlia factory. Or a medical supply warehouse,” I mused.

  Frances rolled her eyes, only answering after she’d swallowed. “The leader of their little club was abusive toward animals. He owned four Rottweilers,” she said, taking another bite.

  “Aaah. You liberated him of his dogs?”

  “I did. They’re not exactly in a loving home at my dad’s, but nobody beats or starves them, so there’s that. And honestly, they’re a bit too far gone for polite society. Guarding a compound out in the boonies, where—most days—madmen don’t come screaming out of the woods to punch them in the face,” she said with a sharp glance, “suits them perfectly.”

  I grunted, looking away. “How’d you know about the abuse?”

  “I was renting a place in town at the time, working as a CFI—a flight instructor. That shithead was my neighbor.”

  “Go on.” I stared with fascination at the slice of pizza in her hand. We’d been sitting here a half hour, and she still had most of her slice. Granted, it’d been a big slice, but…

  She lifted the slice, then chose to speak instead. “The club and I had had some run-ins before I made the leader’s dogs disappear. They were there at all hours of the night, coming and going, no mufflers. One morning, I was headed out to the airport, and they’d parked me in. It wasn’t the first time they’d done it, but it was the last.” Frances’s signature evil smile bloomed.

  “Why’s that?”

  “I backed up as though they weren’t there. I had an old beater, so what did I care? I knocked one bike down, and ran the other clear over.”

  I winced in sympathy for the men’s bikes. “And the dogs?”

  “I’d made no secret of the fact that I disapproved of the way he treated his dogs, even went over there to confront him a time or two. His behavior didn’t change. So, I made friends with the dogs through the fence, which wasn’t easy, and then I made them disappear. That was the day I flew out to my dad’s.”

  “How long ago?” I asked, wanting to know her.

  “Last fall. What about you?” she asked, waving her slice of pizza at me. “What brought you to the Kuskana?”

  “Also family. My sister lived there on her lake, and my brothers and I would come out and visit her every summer. Then Rory and I became an internet sensation—”

  Frances rolled her eyes.

  “—and a place came up for sale. So we had the means, and we could do our catapult stuff out there a bit easier than in town. You fling something in town and you almost always hit something.”

  “Yeah,” Frances said, “out on the river, you just need to worry about people returning fire.”

  “Exactly. Though we don’t really worry about that. They’re actually good for business. The Trebuchet Gang,” I explained after her puzzled look.

  “The Trebuchet Gang is good for business? But I thought they were stealing your subscribers or—”

  “No, no. If anything, our videos have had more views. Rory and I have a little rivalry going with them, yeah, but we’re enjoying ourselves, and our fans eat it up. We don’t actually want the Trebuchet Gang to leave.”

  “But your window…?”

  “So they break stuff once in a while.” I shrugged.

  “So, you’re telling me we broke into their place and messed with their stuff, and they hadn’t really done anything?”

  “Except for shooting an eleven-foot bear and rubbing it in our faces,” I reminded her.

  She stared at me as though she were trying to read my mind.

  I could’ve told her there wasn’t a lot going on in here, but opted to ask her another question, instead. “What about the ladies from the bookstore? How’d you know them?”

  “My roommate, saying I could use more female friends, dragged me to her knitting club’s get-together. It was held at Mildred’s—that’s the gal who almost stabbed you,” she explained. “Anyway, the dahlia was really pretty and right in the very front of her yard, practically in the ditch.”

  “You should give her flower back,” I said, “speaking of people who haven’t really done anything.”

  “I know,” Frances said with a gusty sigh. She took another bite, and then cast her eyes at me. “You said ‘brothers’?”

  “Yeah, there’s a third, between Rory and Helly. J.D. Him and his girlfriend travel around the country looking for Bigfoot in between his fights. He’s MMA. Holds the belt in his weight class after a rematch last fall.”

  Her brows shot up before she looked me up and down. “Well, if he’s built anything like you…”

  Aw, shucks. “What about you? Brothers or sisters?”

  “Neither. My dad never remarried after my mom kicked it.”

  “So what you’re saying is,” I said as I reached over and squeezed her hand, “you’re one of those.”

  “Those?”

  “An only child.”

  She shot me a narrow-eyed look, and I chose not to let go of her hand. We sat in silence for a couple minutes, her hand nestled in mine, just watching tourists come and go.

  Finishing her slice of pizza, minus the crust, Frances nudged me with an elbow. “Hey, you own your own airplane. How’s it feel?”

  “I’m still kind of in shock.” And had forgotten all about it.

  “You’re on the home stretch with your private pilot—not far from your solo. And then you do a couple cross-countries, and you’re there.”

  “Don’t forget about the ground portion,” I reminded her. “The navigation chapter is killing me.”

  She squeezed my hand. “You’ve got this.”

  I returned her gaze, feeling conflicted. Yes, I wanted my pilot’s license, but no, I didn’t want to finish my studies. Because when I finished, Frances would leave, and I… didn’t want her to leave.

  I enjoyed her lively, provocative presence, her wicked smiles. The soft cloud of womanly scent she left behind in the places she’d been. It was a comfort to me just knowing she was under my roof. And when she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight like she had on the bike, all felt right with the world. Town was loud and fast and noisy and polluted, but with Frances along, I was actually enjoying myself—even if her past kept trying to kill us.

  We climbed back on the rented bike, she snuggled up to my back, and then we were off again. It was late afternoon, and the sun was shimmering off the Cook Inlet. A brisk breeze tugged at us as we leaned around the corners of the winding highway.

  I wasn’t quite ready for the moment to end, so I pulled off on one of the overlooks a few miles from Anchorage.

  After dismounting, Frances pulled her helmet off and shook her hair out. “What are we doing?” she asked.

  “Just looking,” I answered, but I was looking at her.

  She moved to the guardrail. On the other side, sharp boulders tumbled down to railroad tracks and then silty water. “Were we getting groceries?” she asked, gazing out over the water.

  “Still don’t have access to the fridge,” I pointed out, moving up behind her.

  “We could get non-perishables.” She turned, and didn’t seem surprised to find me there. She put her hands on my chest, fingered the sequins that formed little lumps under the fabric, then grinned. “You could get some new clothes.”

  “At the moment,” I said, “all I want is to be here with you.” I swept a curl back from her face, my fingers lingering. “Helly was right,” I murmured.

  “About what?” she asked, her voice almost lost in the sounds of traffic zooming by behind me.

  “Your hair. It’s soft.”

  Her fingers curled in the material of my shirt as we drifted closer together. The devil-may-care spark in her eyes softened as she looked up at me. “You gonna kiss me, or what?”

  Any pretty words I might’ve planned dried up in my throat, and I closed the distance between us. I teased her lips, nuzzling them with my own, warming them, and entered when invited. She tasted like pepperoni. Her
mouth slanted under mine, meshing just as perfectly as if we’d been practicing for years.

  Buying my own airplane? Totally eclipsed by one kiss from her. Hell, just riding that bike with her, up until this moment, had been the highlight of my day. In fact, all activities seemed to be improved with the addition of a little Frances. Hunting. Digging. Running for my life…

  But especially kissing. I kissed her deeply, tangling my fingers in her silky hair, loving the way she leaned trustingly into my hold. It was more than just a meeting of the mouths. I felt the resonance of the moment in my bones.

  This woman fit me. She felt right.

  It took tires squealing on pavement to jar Frances and me apart. I turned to see a big black truck screeching to a stop on the shoulder just a bit farther down.

  A surprisingly short and stocky man came around the truck bed, a length of pipe in his right hand, his eyes trained on us. On Frances, specifically.

  “What did you take of his?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the pipe.

  Frances squeaked and hopped over the railing.

  The guy charged in close and tried to take a swing at her, but I caught his pipe.

  “Hey now,” I said, meeting his eyes beneath our mutual grip, “can’t we talk this out?”

  I found out about the second pipe when it cracked against my skull. Frances shrieked as I staggered back, feeling the hot, wet pour of blood down my face.

  He started after her and she booked it down the hill, hopping from rock to rock, spry as a goat. He’d clambered over the guardrail and was just starting his own descent when my vision cleared. With a growl, I vaulted the rail and kicked his legs out from under him. The man landed poorly amongst the sharp boulders and was clutching at his knee when I ripped one of his pipes away. He took a swing at me, whacking me in the thigh. I stepped on his arm, grinding it into the stone.

  “What the hell’s your problem?” I demanded, wrenching the second pipe from his grip.

  “She’s a cheater!” he cried. “She stole a necklace from me, cheating at cards.”

  I looked at Frances, realized she was just the type to do that, then shook my head. “Well,” I said, “sucks to be you.”

  The stout man thrashed, punching at me.

  “Stop it,” I ordered. “Or I’m gonna use one of your pipes, and I guarantee I’ll do a better job of it than you did.”

  “I dunno,” Frances said, picking her way around the supine man. “It looks like he did a pretty good job from where I’m standing. You’ve got a flap of skin…” She trailed off, pointing to my temple.

  I groaned. “You think I need stitches?”

  “Uh, yeah. No doubt about it. Hold still, I’ll put a little pressure on it.”

  I sucked in a breath when she pressed her sweatshirt to my forehead, obscuring my vision in one eye. The man squirmed while I was distracted. I whacked him lightly across the ribs to get his attention.

  “Okay,” I said, “here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to lie here while we walk back to our bike, climb on, and drive away. If you get up—”

  “Or move at all,” Frances put in.

  “—I will come back here, and I’ll beat the shit out of you with these pipes,” I said. “I’ve had just about enough of this shit today. I’m frustrated and starting to get angry, and I will take it out on you. Got me?”

  The man nodded.

  “And you better not follow us, either, because wherever you follow us to, I will beat the shit out of you, with my fists.”

  He nodded again.

  I eased my weight off his arm, and we backed away.

  He didn’t move.

  We stepped over the guardrail, and went back to the bike. Just as soon as we got on it and pulled away, he was up and running for his truck.

  “He’s gonna follow us,” I grumbled.

  “Five dollars says he has a gun in that rig,” Frances shouted in my ear.

  A shot rang out over the roar of the motorcycle’s engine.

  “Just drive,” Frances yelled.

  We lost him on the way to the hospital.

  “You go ahead. I’ll wait out here, on this bench,” Frances said.

  “You can’t be serious.” Internally freaking out as I was, her balking had come from left field.

  “Go on,” she said, making shooing motions. “Go get your stitches.”

  “Frances, if this is gonna go down anything like the Harley shop, I can’t leave you out here by yourself.”

  “Well, I can’t come in there with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “They know me in there.”

  I glanced back at the sprawling hospital complex, and suppressed a shudder. “This place has to have hundreds of employees. How could they all—”

  “At least one of them knows me, and believe me when I say, it’s enough. And he works in the ER.”

  I shook my head. “Listen, I’m not leaving you out here to be grabbed by bikers, stabbed with knitting needles, or have your head bashed in with a pipe. This is a hospital. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Ooh, you really shouldn’t have said that.”

  I grabbed her arm. “C’mon.”

  “Hospitals are actually very dangerous places,” she said as I pulled her across the drop-off area. “There are needles, and scalpels, and catheters, and drugs, and people that know how to use them.”

  “Shhh,” I said, clapping a hand over her mouth before she made me change my mind about getting those stitches. “This guy that you know probably isn’t even on today.”

  She laughed, but mostly quieted down once I got her through the sliding doors.

  The lady at the desk brusquely took my info, and then we sat to wait. I hated waiting in doctor’s offices, and didn’t mind admitting I was shitty at it. The misery-laden silence was interrupted only by the sniffling of children, and the hum of the triage nurse’s blood pressure cuff.

  I was just about to jump up and start pacing when a plastic shopping bag carried by an elderly couple tore, and pill bottles went rolling everywhere. I bent to retrieve the two that’d settled against my feet, and when I straightened back up, the triage nurse was staring at us. Not at me. At Frances. Who was reading Cosmo.

  I’d just decided not to tell her when my phone rang. Helly. I returned the two pill bottles, then brought the phone to my ear. “Yeah?”

  “Where are you?” my little sister practically yelled.

  “I’m in town.”

  “What?”

  “I’m—” I started to explain.

  “Do you know what our brother got up to while you were gone?”

  I winced, and held it. “No…”

  “Near as I can tell, he was bottling beer, except he was drinking more than he was bottling. Then he got a call from Dotty about a boat in distress, and he took his boat to go investigate, except when he got there, he managed to sink the damn thing and nearly drowned.”

  I covered my eyes with a hand. “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine. He turned a simple rescue operation into a fiasco, but we got him and his damn boat—it was the nice one, by the way, full submersion of the outboard—fished out of the river. Immediately after which, he puked on Ed. Now he’s in bed, under about five layers of blankets, sleeping it off. Oh, and he’s been un-invited from the wedding.”

  I groaned, visualizing Ed’s little green relationship bar sliding back toward empty. At least Rory wouldn’t be too upset—neither of us particularly enjoyed weddings.

  “And I’m sitting here, next to his bed,” Helly continued, “wondering, why are you in town?”

  “Bought an airplane.”

  “I am aware that Gary brought you in this morning. Why are you still in town?” Helly growled.

  “I had some other pilot’s-license-related errands to run,” I said. “And currently, I’m sitting in an ER, waiting to get my head stitched back together because somebody attacked me with a pipe.”

  Helly was silent for a mom
ent, then said, “God, I hate it in town.”

  “Right?”

  “Well, hurry up and get back here ASAP.” Helly ended the call.

  Ten minutes later, it was our turn with the triage nurse. I thought I must’ve imagined the dark stare, because the woman didn’t give Frances another glance. She asked me why I was there despite the blood seeping down my face, took my vitals, and asked if I felt safe at home, to which Frances snickered.

  “Well,” I said, “there’s this rival gang across the river that keeps flinging shit at us. Our ermine has bitten me a couple times. And Frances, here, seems to be a magnet for trouble, getting me attacked left and right. I was in a brawl she started, and then, just the other day, our plane got shot down by people after her. Her dad has had me thrown in the river, threatened to skin me, and nearly broke my jaw with a set of brass knuckles. I was attacked by his Rottweilers, and his guides have taken turns thrashing me.”

  The woman was staring at me. “It’s a domestic abuse question. Is your significant other, or anyone you live with, hurting you?”

  I looked up at Frances, considering.

  “She means in a nonconsensual way,” Frances said.

  “Oh. Then, no. I’m safe.”

  The woman was shaking her head as she made a note. “Have a seat. They’ll be out to get you just as soon as there’s a room.”

  Soon after, a young ginger in blue scrubs called our name. We followed him through the doors into the brightness and activity of the ER. The nurse’s station was down the center, and to either side, glass doors and curtains. The tech led us past it all and into a dimmer area.

  “Uh,” Frances said. “Are you sure—”

  “Here you are,” the tech said, sliding back a glass door. There was no curtain on this one.

  Not finding any of this strange, I went in. Frances was still hesitating.

  “We can’t have family in the halls,” the ginger said.

  Swallowing hard, Frances followed me in. The ginger closed the door after us, and as soon as he was out of sight, Frances tried it. It didn’t budge. “Fuck.”

  “What?”

  She growled. “You just had to say it.”

  “What? What did I say?”

  “‘What’s the worst that could happen?’” she mocked.