by Cora Brent
I couldn’t leave them.
They were big babies but I was a strong kid. I grabbed the blanket from my bed and picked up Creed in one arm and Cord in the other. I tried to get Chase too but it was too much and we all nearly tumbled to the floor. I had to put Chase down.
“I’ll be right back,” I whispered.
“De,” he whined and his little face crumpled. He reached out his chubby arms, wanting to be taken with me and with his brothers, and ready to make some noise if he wasn’t. A tear rolled down my face. Aunt Maggie screamed in agony nearby. Cord whimpered and buried his face in my neck. Only Creed was silent. My only choice was an awful choice. With a grunt I heaved Creed over the edge of the playpen. He stood there and held onto the side, staring at me stubbornly.
“Now you need to be quiet, Creedence,” I pleaded in a whisper as I picked up Chase. “Please be quiet. I’ll come back, I swear.”
It had to have been the terror of the moment messing with my head but I thought Creed nodded in understanding. Of course that would have been impossible. Babies didn’t nod. They didn’t understand.
One at a time I carried Cord and Chase through that window. Once I was outside I wrapped them in the blanket and ran with them in the darkness. There was an old shed out there. I liked to play in it sometimes and I knew how to shake the door so that it opened easily. Benton wouldn’t know where to find us. I thought about the god my mother always prayed to as she lit candles and whispered. I hoped he really existed.
I had to leave the babies there on the dirty floor. I tucked the blanket around their bodies to keep them warm. “Have to get your brother,” I said and I’d never run so fast as I did to cover the distance back to the window. As I crawled back inside everything was ominously quiet. The only noise was my own panicked heartbeat.
My jump from the ledge of the window was louder than I’d meant it to be. I waited on the floor for an eternal moment of terror but nothing happened so I crept over to the playpen. It was empty.
I couldn’t shout. I couldn’t cry. I could only sit there. I’d left Creed here and Benton had gotten him. It was my fault. I might have sat there for one minute or thirty; I never knew. Something grabbed my leg and I nearly screamed. But the little body was already climbing into my lap, demanding attention.
“Creed,” I whispered and would have cried had there been time for it. Creedence had climbed out of the playpen, that’s all. That was the only reason it was empty. Benton hadn’t gotten him. No one would get him because I would save him.
Despite the fact that my violent uncle was still lurking around and I’d heard things no child should ever hear, I was joyous as I carried my little cousin to his brothers. I spent the night on the shed floor with the three of them, wrapped in old horse blankets and holding them all close to keep them warm, to keep them safe. I didn’t sleep at all.
Carson burst through the office door abruptly. “You dozin’ off in here or what?”
“Well if you managed to scrape up more business I’d have something to do.”
Carson squinted out the window into the shop where his son was assessing the guts of a Ford pickup. “Business is fine,” he said. “It’s always a little slow after Christmas. People are so strapped paying off their holiday cheese baskets they can’t afford a tune up.”
“Well, in that case,” I started to say, standing and shrugging into my jacket, “think I’ll take off.”
Steve Carson looked at me. “I’m always surprised when you keep coming back, Deck.”
“Why is that?”
He shrugged. “Don’t bunch your nuts up. Just meant that you seem connected enough to do better.”
People ought to stop reminding me of my options. I didn’t need to be reminded of anything. “So I’ve heard. You take care, Steve.”
“Likewise, Gentry.”
Even though the hour was early the Dirty Cactus was open. I cruised into the gravel parking lot but remained on my bike. I looked at the sky. It was clear and sunny instead of dark and snowy. Still, I could instantly summon the memory of sitting in that same spot and taking interest in a girl who’d decided to come out into the cold. She was too young for me, too good for me. I knew it then and I knew it now.
But I thought about her just the same.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JENNY
Quent was already sitting at a table in Cluck This when I got there. The place was pretty crowded but we weren’t waiting long before our waitress showed up. She had glossy black hair and a face that belonged on a billboard in a big city. She rattled off the daily specials with a cheerful Southern accent and repeated our order from memory.
“Just holler if you need a thing,” she said, winking before her heels clacked away.
Quent smiled at me. “I’m glad you changed your hair back.”
My hand went automatically to my hair, now returned to its auburn origins. “Me too.”
“So I guess holidays with the Ally cat weren’t agreeable?”
Quent didn’t like Ally at all. The first time he met her he’d commented that she would probably auction off her firstborn child for a set of collagen lips. Sometimes Quent was pretty wise about people.
I thanked our waitress – Truly was her name – when she brought us glasses of ice water. “Nah, I didn’t hang out with her very long. I went to Quartzsite and stayed at Promise’s the rest of the time. So how’s Tevin?”
“Awful. We broke up.”
“No you didn’t.”
“No we didn’t,” he admitted. “Tevin is fine. But one of his teammates was giving him shit. Same asshole who flubbed the kick at the Lemon Bowl.”
“People suck sometimes.”
Quent shrugged. “What can you do?”
“Sounds rather fatalistic for Quent Kelly.”
“You’re right. I’m in need of some unadulterated fun. This architecture program is melting my brain.”
“And it’s such a good looking brain.”
He grinned at me. Quent was an attractive guy with high cheekbones, olive skin and brilliant white teeth that must have been expensive. “Someone ought to teach you how to flirt, Jenny. You sound like a cartoon.”
I kicked him. “I’ve been told I know how to be tempting.”
He was suddenly alert. “Who’s been telling you that? A name, please. Follow up with detailed anatomical descriptions.”
“I’m not giving you anatomical descriptions,” I muttered, but I was blushing, thinking that I could provide those details if I felt like it. It was pretty tough to forget a body like Deck’s and I hadn’t made the effort anyway. Sometimes at night I would lie awake in my lonely bed and blush over the fact that I’d been so close to all that incredible sensual power.
Close? I had it in my mouth!
“Hey,” said a surprised voice and I looked up to see a familiar face.
“Hi,” I said, happy to be recognized and acknowledged.
“Hello, Stephanie,” said Quent with delight.
Stephanie’s face changed to confusion. She put her hands on her hips. “I know Jenny,” she said, peering down at him with a frown. “But do I know you?”
“No, but the tag on your shirt says ‘Stephanie’ so I am guessing that’s your name.”
She looked down and laughed. “Truly take your order already?”
“She did,” I assured her.
Stephanie leaned over. “The cheese fries are toxic,” she said quietly, “but everything else is okay.”
“Shit,” said Quent when she walked away. “What the hell am I going to do with those fries I ordered?”
“I’ll eat them.”
“Hmm. What else have you been eating, Jenny?”
As we waited for our dinner I told him a lot, but still left out a few things about my encounter with Deck. Like about how I’d taken off my shirt and practically dared him to screw me. Quent didn’t even like the parts of the story I was willing to part with.
“Why’d you do that?” he asked quietly.
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“I didn’t realize Ally was going to be that much of a bitch.”
“No. I mean why did you go with him?”
Truly delivered our baskets of chicken and I immediately drowned everything in ketchup while trying to think of an answer. “I guess I didn’t have any other choice.”
He gave me a hard look. “You’re not a dumb girl, Jen. You could have figured something else out.”
Quent was right of course. And I still couldn’t explain why I’d jumped on the bike of a man who looked as sexy and yet threatening as a man could be. Quent knew my heart was a cluttered attic full of trouble. It was true that I’d felt oddly safe with Deck Gentry. But there was a more bitter side to my reason. Somehow I’d wanted to demonstrate that no one decided my fate but me. After all, what better luxury existed than irresponsibility?
My friend seemed to realize I was waging an internal struggle as I chewed a mouthful of fries. He squeezed my arm in an affectionate way that reminded me of my brother, Daniel. Grayson too. I had a lot of men in my life now who were decent and I should remember that more. But I could also remember being a child and walking with my hand firmly in my father’s grip. Even now I could picture his beloved profile against the pure blue sky when I looked up. I had trusted him completely. I would never be that innocent again. I didn’t want to be.
We were seated by the door and a small commotion caught my attention nearby. Stephanie’s boyfriend had entered and in a flamboyant manner that was apparently part of his usual behavior, he swept her off her feet, kissed her with gusto and then pulled a chair over to our table.
My heartbeat sped up. It wasn’t because Chase was absurdly good looking, but because now I knew his last name was Gentry.
“We meet again,” he said and grinned in an arrogant way that was the mirror image of his dark-haired cousin.
Chase was apparently used to plopping himself right in the middle of things. He smoothly introduced himself to Quent while I forgot my manners and sat there in flustered silence. Then he happily ate Quent’s cheese fries, told us a wildly inappropriate story featuring a broom and members of the university faculty, and stared at his girlfriend’s ass a lot as she bustled between tables. Quent chuckled when Chase assumed we were a romantic pair and left it to me to correct him.
“We’re just friends,” I explained, kind of wishing Chase would go away at this point. I looked around for Stephanie but she was busy serving customers.
“Outstanding,” Chase beamed. His smile faded when he realized there were no more cheese fries.
“Why?” I was confused.
“Because Quent here seems like a nice dude and I would have felt bad about telling you something right in front of him.”
“Telling me what?”
“You’re not gonna eat the rest of that chicken are you, Jenny? God, why in the hell did you make such of a mess with your ketchup? You’re missing out on the enhanced flavor derived from a week’s worth of reusable lard.”
I waited as Chase scraped off the ketchup with a fork. Truly stopped by to refill our water glasses.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Chase said to her. “I was just about to invite my new friends to hear your boy tomorrow night.”
Truly lit up. “I swear something special happens every time he gets up on that stage.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Creedence,” Chase answered.
“Who is that?” Quent whispered to me.
“I don’t know,” I whispered back.
“My brother,” Chase whispered obnoxiously to both of us. The he addressed Truly again. “So our guest is a definite?”
She shrugged. “I suppose. As definite as it gets with him. Creed seems pretty sure he’ll show up.”
I was starting to get the idea that I knew who they were talking about. Chase decided to enlighten me for good.
“My brother Creed is singing tomorrow night at Devil Lounge and dear cousin Declan is riding his leather up here to see it.” He leaned back in his chair and waited to see if I would squeal or jump up and down or pass out. Maybe that’s what women usually did when confronted by the possibility of Deck Gentry. I wouldn’t have blamed them.
“So you’ll be there, right?” Chase prodded when I didn’t react right away.
“Where?”
“Devil Lounge. Ten thirty.”
“Is that a bar?”
“It’s a place where they serve alcohol and require identification in order to drink it.”
“I’m only nineteen.”
Chase sighed with impatience. “There are more fake ID’s floating around here than there are scorpions in Emblem. Find one.”
“I had one. Deck ripped it in half.”
“He did?” Chase was surprised. Then he laughed. “I am going to conclude in that case that he really likes you.”
Quent piped up. “I can get you another ID, Jenny.”
I eyed Chase as he polished off the last of my chicken. “Why are you trying to push me on your cousin? You don’t even know me and I doubt he needs your help getting a date.”
Chase wiped his mouth with a napkin and opted for honesty. “Because I tend to be a pushy fucker and because you’re different from the kind of garbage Deck usually wastes his time with.” He held up a hand. “I mean that in the best way.”
I lowered my head. I was trying to control the rise of excitement over the idea of seeing Deck again even as I told myself I shouldn’t get all bent out of shape. Who knew if he even wanted to see me? Maybe he hadn’t thought about me for one second after he rode out of Quartzsite without saying goodbye. After all, he’d called me a kid. He’d made it clear that I wasn’t the type he generally looked for, even if he wouldn’t mind screwing me sometime.
In any case, I still had his damn phone. It would be a good idea to return it to him, and to thank him one more time. I didn’t have to let him know I’d been replaying our every moment, every conversation, every brief, fevered touch.
Unless he seemed like he might be interested in hearing about it.
“Baby, I would tear this shit up. And if you ask me on any other night I will.”
“I’ll be there,” I told Chase.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DECK
I left early but took my time rolling out of town. Benton had been scarce lately and his shitty truck was gone more often than it wasn’t. A few times I looked in on Maggie but she just got confused. Once she asked if the boys were out in the yard playing and I nodded that yes, they were.
I had gritted my teeth, set my aunt down in a chair by the window and put a few slices of bread in front of her that I knew she wouldn’t eat. Maggie hardly had enough flesh left on her bones to animate a mouse. Most of her teeth had rotted out of her head long ago.
“Little hellions,” she tittered, leaning on my shoulder and smelling like a Victorian brothel. “Just like their daddy.”
If she knew a goddamn thing she would know that her sons were nothing like their father. It was moments like this, when she was lurching around and flashing me a rancid toothless grin that I felt like I hated her. I hated her for letting drugs and Benton suffocate the girl who used to paint the desert at dusk and sing strange lullabies from the eastern mountains where her people had come from. This wasn’t Maggie Gentry sitting there. It was something else.
I coasted alongside the canal for a while, then around the perimeter of the prison where inmates milled around in the rec yards. I thought I heard my name being called and probably did. I raised a hand in greeting to the faceless caller and then sped on.
When I found myself in front of Emblem High School I paused for a minute. The dismissal bell had just rung and the wide front doors spewed hormonal teenagers. Some of the girls tittered and batted their eyes at me but I wasn’t about to respond. Baby birds, all of them.
Soon I saw a pair of boys shoving their way through the crowd. They stood out because they were big and carried themselves with a confident swagger that came from their physical strength a
nd their clear good looks in a sea of adolescent awkwardness. Their last names were Gentry and on paper their father was Elijah Gentry, one of the few who’d made good and moved out of the desert and into one of the handsome neighborhoods of downtown Emblem. Elijah was my father’s cousin and I’d heard these days he was wasting away from some slow disease. Once or twice I’d thought about paying him a visit but since his wife was a shifty-eyed troll I felt better about steering clear.
I watched the brothers shove each other and then race down to Main Street, probably to grab some smokes from the gas station because that’s what I used to do when I was their age. I tried to remember what they were called.
Conway. Conway and Stonewall. There had to be a reason why so many Gentrys had fucked up weird names.
Even though their mother was a witch, she’d also been a looker before gravity took over. And my father…well, he was a dog before he was married, while he was married and after he was done being married. They knew each other well; ran wild together as kids and drank together as adults. I’d heard a rumor that those two boys might have a different father than the one they lived with, and therefore another brother they didn’t know about. That was a rumor I believed. Someday they would hear it too and I expected they might seek me out to ask if it was true.
When the boys were out of sight I rode to the knotty two-lane road out of town. My plan was to hang around with the triplets, watch my cousin sing and then crash in a cheap motel somewhere. As for entertainment, I’d decide later if there was anything worth doing. I should find someone, anyone. But ever since getting a small taste of Jenny Smith, everything else looked like shit to me.
Since I got to the valley early I rode around for a while, just drinking in scenery and being glad that it wasn’t the season for brutal sun. That would come again all too soon. There was a crappy motel off Apache Boulevard called The Terrace and I grabbed a room there, wondering why it was called The Terrace in the first place because there wasn’t anything in sight resembling an actual terrace. I supposed they just had to call it something and that was as good a word as any.
