“Go back to the car,” Crissa said. Haley shook her head, caught up with her, took her hand.
“All right,” Crissa said. “But stay close to me.” She hoisted her up, surprised by her weight, carried her up the stairwell to the second floor.
When she set her down, she let Haley take her left hand, wanting to keep the right free. She knocked on the door, and it opened wider, Claudette standing there. She gave Crissa a look she couldn’t read, then stepped aside.
There were two men on the couch, both with long hair, sleeveless denim jackets over leather, engineer boots. Roy stood against the wall on the other side of the room, arms folded, chewing his lip. He looked up as Crissa came in.
The man on the right, grayer than the other, with a full beard, said, “Hey, baby.” Crissa looked at him, felt Haley move behind her. Realized then who he meant.
“Come sit on daddy’s lap,” he said, and patted his knee.
Haley tightened her grip on Crissa’s hand. She squeezed back.
“Company,” the other one said. He was younger, had a broken nose and long sideburns. He looked at Roy. “You should have told us.”
“Which one of you is Blue?” Crissa said.
The younger one looked at her, said, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Claudette,” Crissa said, “why don’t you take Haley down to that Dairy Queen up the block, get some ice cream?”
“Why you wanna do that?” the older one said. “She just got here.” He smiled at Haley, showed a gold tooth. “Come on over here, beautiful. Give Uncle Jackson a kiss.”
Haley squeezed her hand tighter. Crissa looked at Claudette, said, “Take her.”
“Now, that’s no way to be,” Jackson said. “Look, you’re getting her all upset.”
Claudette came behind Crissa, took Haley’s free hand, tried to lead her away.
“Come on, sweetie,” Jackson said. “Sit over here.”
Crissa knelt, gently worked her fingers free from Haley’s. “Go with your mom. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Haley shook her head.
“Let’s go,” Claudette said. “Ice cream.” When Haley didn’t move, Crissa scooped her up, carried her out the door, Claudette following. She set her down, kissed the top of her head. “Stay with your mom. Go on, go get some ice cream. I’ll be over in a little bit.”
“I don’t have any money,” Claudette said. Crissa took a twenty from her pocket, handed it to her. “Stay there. I’ll come find you when they’re gone.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Just go.”
Haley was wiping her eyes. Crissa squeezed her shoulder, felt the bones there, so close beneath the skin.
“Go on now. Everything’s okay. I’ll come get you in a little while.”
She watched them walk away, hand in hand. Haley turned to look back over her shoulder at Crissa. Claudette picked her up, carried her down the stairs and out of sight.
Crissa went back into the room, closed the door. The two bikers were watching her. Roy was still by the wall, swaying back and forth, arms crossed, hands in his armpits.
To Blue, she said, “How much does he owe you?”
“Like I said, lady. I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Hey, Roy,” Jackson said. “How come this chick knows your shit?”
“Shut up,” Blue said. Then to her, “What makes you think he owes me anything?”
“We can dick around here or get down to it,” she said. “How much to get free and clear?”
“Free and clear,” Blue said, and sat back. “That sounds nice. Free and clear. Who wouldn’t want to be that?”
Jackson got up, started for the door. She moved in front of him. He frowned. “What are you doing?”
She could smell the alcohol on him. Aim for the throat or eyes, she thought. Anywhere else and he might not feel it. And you’ll only get one shot before they’re both all over you.
“Hey, Jackie,” the other one said. “Sit down. Be cool.”
Jackson squinted at her. She didn’t look away, watched for the shoulder movement that meant he was about to swing on her, hoped it would give her enough time to hit him first.
He turned away from her, sat back on the couch.
Blue looked at Roy. “What’s going on here, papi?”
Roy shrugged. “She’s a friend of Haley’s father.”
Jackson said, “Dude, I thought you were her father.”
“Her real father,” Roy said.
“Enough of this,” she said. “How much?”
Blue pulled an earlobe, looked at her. She saw the tattoos just below the knuckles of his right hand, PAIN spelled out in Gothic letters.
“How much,” she said, “for you to leave them alone?”
“These are friends of mine you’re talking about,” Blue said. “Claudette and I go back a long way. I knew her when she used to dance at the Whisky Room. She was fine back then, let me tell you. But if you’re talking business…”
“I didn’t tell her anything,” Roy said. “I don’t know where—”
“Shut up,” Blue said. Then to her, “I’m not saying I know what you’re talking about here. But if he has debts, why wouldn’t he take care of them himself?”
“You’re a smart guy,” she said. “A businessman. But he’s a fuckup.” She nodded at Roy. He was chewing his lip again, watching her.
“You know you’ll never get more than chump change out of him,” she said. “Even if he squares up this time, it’ll happen again. He’s a junkie. It’s their nature.”
Blue laughed, looked at Roy. “She’s sure got your number, slick.” Jackson still looked confused.
“She’s got money,” Roy said, talking fast, the words spilling out. “A lot. She brought it here for us. From Haley’s father.” She looked at him. He took a step back.
“Is that right? Now I’m interested,” Blue said. “And you’re right, chica, he’s a fuckup, but so what?”
“I know he’s been dealing for you. I know he owes you money. He can’t pay it now, and probably won’t be able to anytime soon. Squeeze him as much as you want, it won’t make any difference.”
“That’s his business, isn’t it?”
“Yours, too, if you want to get paid. Here’s the offer. I pay you what he owes, plus a little extra for your troubles. You cut your losses, walk away.”
“Where’s the money?” Jackson said. “Let’s see it.” She ignored him.
“Keep talking,” Blue said.
“There’s nothing else to say. It’s a one time only offer. Tomorrow I’m gone.”
“Man, what is all this shit?” Jackson said. “This is crazy talk.”
“Maybe not so crazy,” Blue said. Then to her, “You know how much he owes?”
“In the ballpark.”
“Ballpark, huh? Maybe it’s a bigger ballpark than you think.”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t trust him with serious money. You’re no fool. You’ve dealt with people like him before.”
“Yeah, I have.” He nodded at Roy. “How’d this guy get so lucky, get a fine lady like you looking after him, paying his debts?”
“It’s not about him.”
“The woman, then. Or no, the little girl, right? You family or something?”
“No.”
“What, then? You’re just doing a good deed?”
“I’m making you a deal. Question is, are you smart enough to take it?”
Jackson leaned forward. “This bitch needs to get slapped, Blue. Why we listening to this?”
Blue looked at Roy, then back at her, said, “Ten thousand.”
“No way it’s that much,” she said. “Not for O-Bombs. I heard two, three at the most.”
“Yeah, where’d you hear that?”
“Fuck this,” Jackson said. He got up and went into the kitchenette. They heard him opening and closing cabinets.
“Five,” she said. “And we’re all of us squared. How’s that?”
; “Five?” Blue said. “What about my time and trouble? You think I like having to come out to this shithole every week, track down our friend here to get my money? You don’t think my time’s valuable?”
“Six, then. For your trouble. That’s probably twice what he owes you, enough to cover any vig.”
“Then let me guess, we don’t take your deal, you go to the law, right? That what you gonna say next?”
“No.”
“Or maybe we take the deal, and you go to the law anyway.”
“I wouldn’t do that. A deal is a deal.”
Jackson came out of the kitchen, shaking a box of graham crackers.
“Shit’s stale, bro,” he said to Roy. “This the same box as last time?”
He leaned in the doorway, took out a cracker, bit off a piece, made a face, and dropped it back in the box.
“How do I know what you’d do or wouldn’t do?” Blue said. “You say you’re gonna give me six grand in cash. I could be setting myself up. You might be the G yourself, all I know.”
“I might be.”
“So make it seven.”
“Make it six.”
“You got a way about you, I’ll say that. What are the chances we get to know each other a little better?”
“I don’t trust this broad,” Jackson said. He dropped the box on the floor. “I don’t trust her at all.”
“No, she’s okay,” Blue said. “She just thinks she has to act tough to get by, right?” He looked at Crissa. “But maybe under all that, not so tough after all.”
“What’s your answer?”
“Six it is. When can you get it?”
“Tonight. Like I said, after tomorrow I’m gone.”
“You’re not gonna stick around, see if we hold up our part of the deal, lay off your friend here?”
“He’s no friend of mine,” she said. “But yes, I trust you. I’ll have to, won’t I?” Lying.
“Then I guess we got a deal,” Blue said. He stood.
“Ten o’clock tonight,” she said. “Here.”
“I don’t need to tell you, if there’s cops around, or I see any shit at all I don’t like, it’ll be bad fucking news for these people. The little girl, too. Even if it’s some vice cop busting a tranny hooker downstairs. I see law around, I walk, and you deal with the consequences.”
“Understood. One thing.” She tilted her head at Jackson. “Don’t bring him.”
“Jacky? He’s harmless. He just likes them a little young, is all. He’ll find himself another girlfriend soon.”
She felt a flush of heat in her face, a tightness in her gut.
Blue looked at Roy, said, “Look like chica here saved your ass.”
Roy didn’t respond. Blue looked at Jackson, said, “Come on, hoss. We got other stops to make.”
She moved away from the door. Jackson eyed her as he went past
“Tonight,” Blue said. “I’m looking forward to it.” They went out.
After a moment, she followed them onto the balcony, watched as they went down to the motorcycles, climbed on and kickstarted the engines. Their exhaust blew leaves and grit off the blacktop.
They wheeled the bikes around, headed for the exit. Neither wore a helmet. As they waited for a break in the traffic, Jackson looked back. He made a pistol with his right hand, pointed it up at her.
Blue pulled out onto the street, sped away, Jackson following. She listened to the roar of their engines as it faded.
Roy came out behind her.
She turned to him and said, “Pack.”
* * *
She took them to another motel a mile away, got them checked into a second-floor room, paid cash in advance. Everything they had was in two suitcases and a black garbage bag with a red twist-tie.
Haley sat on one of the beds. She’d taken the Barbie out of its box, was combing its hair with a pink plastic comb. Claudette sat beside her. Roy paced.
Crissa nodded at the suitcases. “That’s it, huh?”
Claudette rubbed a bare arm. “We had to leave a lot behind when we left the house. Traveling light, I guess.”
“She didn’t have any more dolls? Toys?”
“Things get lost along the way. You know the way kids are.”
Roy said, “We need to talk about all this. Now.”
“Right,” Crissa said. “Let’s take a ride. We’ll pick up some food, bring it back.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant. We’ll talk in the car.”
To Claudette, she said, “Don’t leave the room. If something comes up, call me on the cell. We won’t be long.”
Haley didn’t look up. She was combing the doll’s hair with careful concentration, as if no one else were there.
On the stairs, Crissa let Roy get ahead of her. When they reached the bottom, she said, “Hey.”
He turned. He was standing in front of an alcove with vending machines and an icemaker.
“Yeah?” he said, and she straight-armed him in the chest, drove him back against the soda machine, rocked it.
“What the fuck?” he said.
“I ought to let them kill you.”
He came forward, and she shoved him back again. She set herself, wondering if he’d come at her. Instead, he took another step back, rubbed his shoulder. Behind him, the ice machine clattered and hummed.
“Answer me now and answer me straight,” she said. “Did either of those two ever touch Haley?”
“No.”
“Look at me. You never handed her over, some week you were short on what you owed?”
“I’d never do that.”
She moved toward him, fighting the instinct to close the distance quick, hit him as hard as she could. He retreated until his back was against the ice machine.
“You ever leave them alone with her?” she said.
“No, I swear.”
“But you thought about it, right? Using her to get you out of trouble, save you from a beating? Because she’s not your daughter anyway, right?”
“I screwed up, I know. But I wouldn’t do that.”
“I hope you’re telling the truth. Because if I find out you’re not—”
“Ask Claudette. You think she’d let me do something like that?”
“You two, I don’t know what to think.”
When she turned away, he said, “What are we going to do?”
She looked back at him. “About what?”
“About the money. About tonight.”
“I’ll worry about that,” she said. “Get in the car.”
SIXTEEN
At nine o’clock, she was parked at the Sunoco station, headlights and engine off. The lights in 216 were on, the curtain drawn. A chill in the air, and no one out in the parking lot. She could hear muffled music behind one of the second-floor doors, knew it had to be loud inside. That was good.
She clenched and unclenched her fingers inside the gloves, the adrenaline working in her already. There was a sourness in her stomach, the acid taste of bile in her throat.
At nine thirty, a beat-up Dodge with a dented passenger door rolled into the lot, Jackson driving, Blue beside him. They’d left the motorcycles behind. Too recognizable, too noisy, for what they’d come to do.
They circled the lot slowly, then drove back into the service alley, parked beside the Dumpster, killed the lights and engine.
They’ll sit there for a while, she thought, keep an eye out in case it’s a setup, see if there’s anyone around who doesn’t belong. She saw the flare of a match inside the car, the glow of a cigarette.
She took a deep breath, held it, tightening her hips and stomach, gripped the wheel to steady her hands.
Just before ten, they got out of the car, stood there talking. A cat raced out from behind the Dumpster, crossed their path, and disappeared into high weeds.
When they moved into the light at the base of the stairwell, she saw Blue had a short-barreled revolver in his hand. He opened the cylinde
r to check the loads, closed it again, said something to Jackson. They started up the stairs.
She let out her breath. You should drive away, she thought. Go back to the hotel, get the rest of the money and your things, buy a train ticket, head north, head home. The smart thing. What Wayne would do. No percentage in staying here. But then there was the girl …
They came out of the stairwell onto the second-floor walkway, taking their time, being quiet about it. She’d wedged a folded matchbook into the strike plate of 216, so the door would open with a push. She wanted them inside the room. It would give her more time.
On the seat beside her was a manila envelope thick with cash—six thousand dollars in banded bills. She’d sealed it with rubber bands. The envelope went into the inside pocket of her dark zippered jacket. Then she reached behind for the aluminum baseball bat on the floor. She’d bought the bat and jacket at a sporting goods store on the way here.
She’d turned off the courtesy light, so the car stayed dark as she got out. She let the door close without latching, started across the lot.
There was a shadowed area between the motel wall and the Dumpster, and she waited there, picturing Blue and Jackson up in the room, angry, going through closets and dressers, realizing they were gone for good.
She heard the door open again, boot heels on the walkway above her. Fast, not caring about noise now. They came down the stairwell, Jackson in front. She saw the dull glint of the gun in his left hand, another revolver.
When he reached the bottom step, she moved away from the wall. Jackson said, “Hey, Blue, here she is—” and then he saw the bat.
He got his left hand up as she swung. The bat cracked into his elbow, sent the revolver flying across the blacktop. He doubled with pain, and then Blue was coming down behind him, pushing him out of the way, gun up.
She swung, aimed for the outside of his left knee, felt the impact all the way to her shoulders. The leg flew out from under him, and he went down hard. She swung at the gun, missed, and got his wrist on the backswing. The gun hit the wall, landed at her feet. She kicked it toward the Dumpster, turned to meet Jackson coming at her.
She feinted at his head. When he raised his right arm to block it, she checked her movement, dropped her shoulder and swung hard into his ribs on the left side, felt them crack. He bent, and she sidestepped and swung low, laid the bat across his shins. He cried out, went down.
Shoot the Woman First Page 13
