The Big Ugly

by Jake Hinkson

  Alexis took Kaylee to the bathroom. I could see that the young man was waiting for her, but when he finally surrendered to his bladder and headed into the men's room, Alexis and the girl slipped out of the ladies' room. Alexis led Kaylee outside, saw me and nodded. We both headed to the other side of the parking lot, away from the open field, closer to some dumpsters in an alley behind the motel.

  We got there at the same time. "This way," I said.

  Over my shoulder, I could see Jack start her truck, back up, and leave the IHOP parking lot. She met us out by the service road a moment later.

  And we were gone.

  * * *

  We rode in silence until we were back on I-30, heading back toward Osotouy City, where we could connect to I-40.

  Alexis smelled like cigarettes and old sweat. I cracked a window. Kaylee leaned against her mother and was asleep within a minute or two.

  Jack glanced down at my feet. "You track mud into my ride?"

  "I tried to scrape it off. Sorry."

  Over her shoulder, Jack asked, "Who that boy you talking to?"

  "Some guy I met on the bus."

  Jack shook her head. "You running from a bunch of killers and you strike up a fucking conversation on the bus."

  "He started talking to me," Alexis said. She leaned back in her seat and shut her eyes. "I think he wanted a hand job."

  "What makes you say that?" I asked.

  "I don't know. He just had that 'please-give-me-a-hand-job' vibe."

  Jack said, "Yeah, I know that vibe."

  * * *

  The drive was four hours. Jack wouldn't hear of anyone else driving her truck.

  Alexis and Kaylee slept.

  Jack played some songs on an iPod that she plugged into the radio. Mostly old school rap. Some Immortal Technique, some Rakim. A bunch of stuff I didn't know. She kept it low so as not to wake up the kid.

  After a couple of hours, she turned it off.

  We passed Osotouy City. Alexis woke up. None of us spoke until we were on I-40 heading toward Memphis.

  As we passed a sign for a little town called Candy, I said, "My father started a church here when I was seventeen."

  "Really?" Alexis asked.

  I nodded.

  "You a preacher's daughter?" Jack said.

  "Sort of. I wasn't raised that way, but my mom got religion when I was in high school. She talked the old man into sinking every cent they had into trying to start a church. That dried up the family coffers. I couldn't pay for college without working, and pretty soon I had to quit school and work full time. Eastgate didn't require a college degree to be a CO, so I went in that direction."

  "No shit?" Jack said.

  "No shit. I thought I was going to be a cop." I shook my head. Just thinking about it gave me a slight headache. As we passed the exit for the town, I said, "They bought a little store front here in Candy. I think it used to be a vacuum-cleaner supply store."

  "What was their church called?" Jack asked.

  "The Church of the New Birth."

  "Still there?"

  "Nah. It never occurred to either one of them that the old man wasn't any kind of preacher. He had worked in service stations for twenty-five years … and now he was supposed to start up a church? The only stuff he'd ever read besides the Bible was Chilton's and hunting magazines. He'd never done any public speaking. He didn't even like to make small talk with people. But she had her vision and the old man always eventually did whatever she told him to. They sunk every dime they had into the church and trusted God to provide the rest."

  "God didn't come through?" Jack asked.

  "No. He must have been short on cash, too. They had to declare bankruptcy after a couple of years." In the truck's side mirror, I watched the sleeping town recede into the darkness. "In the end there was nothing left of my mother's vision except a story she hated to tell."

  They were both dead now. The old man at fifty-nine of a heart attack, the old woman at sixty-two from cancer. The only saving grace of the whole sad story was that neither of them had lived to see me go to jail. They'd both died thinking that even if I wasn't born again, at least I was an upstanding member of society.

  Now I wasn't even that.

  I looked in the rearview mirror. Alexis was sitting up and looking right back at me, and for an instant I confused our reflections. It looked like my mouth that opened when she said, "At least you had parents."

  * * *

  About two-thirty in the morning, we pulled off the interstate in a tiny town called Marked Tree just outside of West Memphis. In the parking lot of a little Methodist Church, a truck was waiting.

  We pulled up next to it, and Alexis's cousin got out. She was a middle-aged bruiser with tiny breasts, a big gut, and long curly blonde hair.

  Alexis hugged her, and then she pushed Kaylee toward her. "Sweetie," she told the girl, "this is your cousin Tawnya. We're going to live with her for a while."

  Tawnya yawned and rubbed the girl's head. "Hey, kiddo." Alexis didn't introduce us, but cousin Tawnya gave us a tired smile. Then she told Alexis, "I'll be in the truck. We need to get on the road. You can drive?"

  "Sure."

  Tawnya took the kid to the passenger side of the truck.

  I watched the little girl. She dragged her feet, but she was awake. When she got to the truck, she looked back at me.

  She waved.

  It was the first time the child had acknowledged me at all. I gave her a little wave, and she got into the truck with Tawnya. I wondered how many people like me that little girl had met in her life, how many strangers, some kind and some not, who had already drifted through her chaotic life before she climbed into a truck with yet another new one.

  I was thinking that when Jack asked Alexis, "Where's Tawnya live in Tennessee?"

  "Pigeon Forge. She's a glass blower at Dollywood."

  "I ain't got the slightest fucking idea what that means."

  "She—"

  Jack stopped her by waving it away. "Don't matter. All that matters is that you don't come back here. Ever."

  Alexis stuck out her hand. "Thanks, Effervescence. For everything."

  Jack nodded. Alexis turned to me. I shook her hand. "Jack's right," I told her. "This place, and everybody in it, is nothing but trouble for you. Don't email. Don't call. Don't go on Facebook. And don't you ever come back to Arkansas."

  Alexis nodded. "Thanks, Ellie."

  Jack and I got in the truck and drove away. We rode in silence most of the way, but not far outside of Osotouy City I turned and asked her, "Why'd you ask where her cousin lives?"

  "What?"

  "Why'd you ask where her cousin lives? Why'd you want to know where Alexis is going?"

  She didn't say anything but the answer hung unspoken in the silence of the truck. It was insurance. Jack had insurance now. And so did I. Even if I told myself that I didn't want it, I had it now. If everything went wrong and Kluge started putting the questions to me in a rough way—in a way that did not accept an honest "I don't know" as an answer—then I needed to know where she was. I needed to know how I could still give them Alexis if it came down to a choice between her or me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  We got back to Jack's place a little past four in the morning. I drove home and collapsed on my bed.

  I didn't sleep though. I just lay there thinking about things. I would have to see Kluge and try to sell him on the idea that Alexis was gone to Texas. I rubbed my eyes.

  I rubbed them again and noticed that the room was full of sunlight. I'd been asleep for hours. I got up and went downstairs.

  The family was at the table having a late lunch.

  "No one working today?" I said.

  Felicia was wearing a T-shirt for some band that looked vaguely Christian. Chewing some potato chips, she laughed, "It's Saturday, Aunt Ellie."

  Nate and Bethany glanced at each other. She got up to get me a plate, but Nate wouldn't even look at me. He scanned the sports section of the paper
without settling on any one thing to read. Mostly he just ignored me.

  * * *

  After lunch, I took a shower and got dressed. I broke out another dark skirt, matched it with a white blouse and a darker jacket. I dressed and went downstairs and found my brother holding the baby, watching a couple of birds in his yard.

  "How's it going?" I asked.

  He patted the baby's back. "He's got an ear infection."

  "Aw. I'm sorry to hear that."

  Nate kept watching the birds. "You know," he said, "I actually do need help at the shop."

  "I know. I'm sorry. I've been doing this other job for some people."

  "A job you don't want to talk about."

  "I'm almost done, Nate. I'm almost done. I'll be set up, and I can get out of here, get my own place. I won't be a bother."

  Nate watched a squirrel dart out of his yard and into the street. It jerked both ways as a car passed and hopped into the woods. He said, "Stupid thing almost got run over. Should've stayed put."

  I waited, but he didn't seem to have anything to add to that. I said, "I promise that things are about to get a lot better."

  * * *

  I called the number Kluge had given me. Vin Colfax answered.

  "What kind of news you got for me?"

  "I'd like to see your boss," I said.

  "My boss … don't know that I'd call him my boss exactly. That would make me his employee, wouldn't it? Like a servant. I look like a servant to you?"

  "I want to see the old man. Can I see him or do you want to keep jerking off on the phone?"

  He giggled. "Good idea." I heard a zipper and then he started to moan. He moaned and grunted and the phone shook. I waited. Then he moaned, "Mm, guess I did want to jerk off on the phone …"

  "Do I get to talk to the old man or not, you fucking psycho?"

  "Oo-ee," he said. "Nasty mouth. You probably learned to talk that way in prison. I'll try to forgive it. How about we meet by the Old Mill at three?"

  "The old man will be with you?"

  "We'll see."

  * * *

  The Old Mill sat at the center of a park in North Osotouy City. A recreation of an old grist mill from the 1880s, it had been built in the thirties sometime. A famous movie had filmed some scenes there back in the thirties, and now the Old Mill was a spot for elderly tourists and weddings. It was pretty, though there wasn't much to look at, really. Just a two-story stone building with a narrow bridge straddling a little pond.

  When I got there, I parked on the street, got out and walked down to the water. The sky was bright blue, and the air was on fire. The heat had beaten down most of the flowers, and the greenery seemed to sag beneath the weight of the humidity.

  A moment later an Infiniti pulled up to the curb. Vin driving. Kluge in the passenger seat. I walked up the hill to meet them.

  Vin motioned to me to get in the car.

  I got in behind the driver's seat so I could look at Kluge—and so Vin couldn't look at me.

  Kluge turned around to talk to me. He smiled politely. "Good morning."

  "Good morning."

  "Shall we get right to business?"

  I nodded. "Yes. It looks to me like she's gone." I paused, but he simply waited with the same polite expression on his melted old face. I said, "I talked to some ex-boyfriends, and I talked to an ex-inmate, Effervescence Jackson, all of whom told me that she's gone."

  Junius Kluge turned to Vin.

  Vin snapped, "We're paying you to tell us that she's fucking gone? Everyone knows she's fucking gone. Where'd she go?"

  "Texas. On a Greyhound. Last night, it looks like."

  "Why do you think she's gone to Texas?" Kluge asked.

  "She told Jack—that is, Effervescence Jackson—that she was going there. I guess she's from there originally."

  "Why'd she tell this Effervescence Jackson where she was going?"

  "She contacted Jack to borrow money. To no avail. Jack's not in the habit of lending cash."

  "Anything else?"

  I shook my head. "No, sir. I think that's it."

  Kluge nodded and settled back in his seat. Turning his face to the mill, he said, "I went to a wedding here once, a long time ago. The justice of the peace was an old feller with Alzheimer's. He married the bride and groom three times before someone finally told him to wrap it up. At the end, he congratulated them on their fiftieth wedding anniversary."

  "I like that story," Vin chuckled. "I heard you tell that one before."

  Without looking at me, Kluge said, "You can keep the five thousand dollars, Miss Bennett. I trust you understand that the information you've given us here today doesn't merit the second half of the money we discussed."

  "The deal was for me to track her down as far as my position as an ex-inmate would take me. I don't know anyone in Texas."

  I pressed the case because it was a natural thing to do. He'd expect me to try to get the rest of the cash. Besides, I needed the money.

  Vin snapped, "The deal was to find her. You didn't find her. You're lucky we're letting you keep the five grand."

  "You want me to go to Texas," I said. "I'll go. It's the size of fucking … Texas, but I'll go. I just don't know what good it'll do you to have me down there, going door to door, asking people if they've seen her."

  Kluge was still staring at the mill. "That will be all, Miss Bennett. We'll make some inquires and follow up on this new information. If we require more your services, we'll be in contact."

  I made a show of accepting this, said so long, and got out of the car.

  They drove away.

  * * *

  Still standing there staring at the water, I called the number Charles Hamill had given me.

  "I have some news about Alexis," I told him.

  "Could you come in?" he asked.

  "There's really no need," I said. "What I have to say I can tell you just as easy over the phone."

  "There's someone else I'd like you to meet," he said.

  We hung up, and then I drove over to the Milner Building. In the middle of a hot summer Saturday afternoon, most intelligent people were seeking shelter in the air conditioning, so I was able to grab a parking spot right by the front door.

  A single guard sat in the lobby and gave me a smile as I walked through. I took the elevator up to the tenth floor. The Faith and Liberty Legal Initiative was devoid of life. No Gennifer at the desk. No sounds of activity down the hall.

  I found my way back to Hamill's office and opened the door. No Sister Lips.

  The light was on in his office, and Hamill came to the door. He wore some light blue jeans and a black and red Fila polo shirt.

  "Hi there," he said. "How are you doing, Ellie?"

  "I'm fine," I said.

  "If you will, join us in here," he said, motioning me back to the office.

  I walked across the darkened reception area and stepped into his office.

  A man in a yellow polo shirt sat behind Hamill's desk. He stood up to greet me as I came in. He was tall and portly, with a pink face, and had thinning hair that he combed over.

  "Miss Ellie," he said, extending a hand. "I'm Jerry Kingston."

  I took his hand and he gave me a vigorous shake.

  He beamed a smile at me as Hamill walked behind him and leaned against the floor-length window. "I hope you're keeping cool today," Jerry Kingston said, settling back into his chair.

  "I'm managing," I said. "The AC on my car isn't great, though."

  "Oh dear," he said. He swiveled the chair a bit to address Hamill. "That's awful on a day like today."

  Hamill grinned. "Arkansas in summer ain't no joke."

  "No, it is not," Jerry Kingston agreed. "As my grandpa used to say, the Arkansas heat is all we need know of perdition."

  His voice had an almost musical quality—a soft cadence that seemed to caress words—and as he tapped his long thick fingers together I got the impression of a skilled piano player. As he smiled at me, I remembered that, in
fact, I'd seen him a few times on television. He wasn't a sweating, stomping, fire-and-brimstone preacher. He was smooth and polished. He sang beautifully and played bass guitar. When he preached, he was like a motivational speaker for Christ—part guru, part car salesman.

  "I hope you don't mind me joining you and Brother Chuck today," he said. "I was just dropping by to talk to him about the election," he paused to gesture at one of the campaign signs against the wall, as if its presence somehow confirmed his story, "and he told me that you had some word on this young lady. What was her name, Chuck?"

  "Alexis," Hamill said.

  "That's right, Alexis. I met her a couple of times, I think. Didn't I, Chuck?"

  "I think so," Hamill said, a grin on his boyish face.

  "That's interesting," I said.

  "Why is that interesting?" Jerry Kingston asked pleasantly.

  "Because I met a guy—a no account drug dealing piece of trailer trash named Evan Hastings—who told me that you knew her really well. Fact is, he thought the two of you had something going on."

  Kingston's smile drained away like blood. "Well, that's a damnable lie," he said.

  I nodded. "I'm sure it is."

  "A lie right out of the devil's hell."

  I nodded again to show him I was paying attention.

  Hamill just stood by the window and waited.

  Kingston leaned back in the chair and gradually something like a smile returned to his face. He said, "A man like me makes enemies, Miss Ellie. He does. I'm trying to accomplish something here, something real. I'm trying to take Christian values to the Tower of Babel that is the United States Congress. You don't fight that fight without taking some pretty rough hits. And it's not just petty politicians like Governor Colfax who throw those punches. No, scripture tells us that we struggle not against flesh and blood, but against spiritual wickedness in high places. The devil, Miss Ellie. Not very fashionable to talk about him anymore, but he's out there. He's out there. And the devil's greatest weapon is the lie. It's his masterpiece, his greatest invention for waging spiritual warfare against the people of God."