by Kym Brunner
CHAPTER 22
Sunday, May 22nd // 9:33 P.M.
Clyde
While I sat there listening to Twinkle tell me about her mama, all I could do was watch her pretty green eyes water up, but inside, I was dying to comfort her. I knew if I held her, Bonnie would start begging and pleading for me to reassure her that I loved her best. And while it was true once, I ain’t sure I can rightly say that no more. Bonnie buttered my bread for two years, but why settle for bread when I can have that, plus a whole fried chicken and dessert with Twinkle?
So I listened and twiddled my thumbs, keeping my hands off of her when all’s I wanted to do was draw her close to me. My heart swole big as a house when she tole me she ain’t never shared that story with no one before—not even her gal pals. I can’t recall a time I ever wanted to kiss anyone as badly as I wanted to kiss Twinkle right then. My heart ached to show her, not just tell her, how I was feeling. And that’s when I decided I had to kiss her—even though I knew that doing that could allow Jack Daniel to rise from his slumber and railroad his way back in. Knowing that I was risking everything to kiss Twinkle, I did it anyway.
Turns out Twinkle wanted to kiss me as much as I did her. Bonnie too, I think, but I cleverly stifled her by making my move on Twinkle. The moment my lips met hers, my heart felt like it could burst out of my chest. I wanted to ravage her, to kiss her until we lost control, but we didn’t have time. But it was sweet while it lasted—our mouths gently meeting—not awkward, like first kisses often are. After that one amazing, heart-stopping kiss, Twinkle gently pushed me away.
No matter. Now I know how she feels about me and that’s all I need.
“I’ve been dying to do that all day,” I say, stroking her cheek. “Can’t I have one more?”
“Clyde Chestnut Barrow,” she snarls in response, her top lip pulled back like a rabid coon. “Are you two-timing me, or is romancing this know-nothing tramp part of your plan? I need to hear the truth right this minute or we’re through!”
I back away fast, regretfully tearing my hands from Twinkle’s curvy hip. As much as I was enjoying Twinkle’s kiss, Bonnie’s threat reminds me I’ve gotten myself in a quandary.
Twinkle must think she made a mistake because her face gets redder than a radish. When I keep quiet, Twinkle says softly, “She’s got a point. I’d kind of like to know, too.”
I take a deep breath and move back into the driver’s seat, recalling how much of a jealous streak Bonnie had. I get a cannonball-sized pain in my chest knowing how much that kiss must have hurt Bonnie’s feelings. That gal had spunk and she always had my back. My mind goes back and forth between the two gals, making me dizzy. Am I making the right choice here?
Lights flash in my head like a goddam circus and I curse myself for being weak as a puppy. I start the engine up, picturing my old farm dog Jezebel I had growing up so as to get my mind off of my former moll. “Don’t worry your pretty little heads about it. I got it all figured out.”
Twinkle crosses her arms over her luscious breasts, signaling that she don’t like my answer, but for once, she stays quiet. Thank the Lord for small favors, because if pressed, I don’t think she’d be too tickled by the news that I got a Plan A and a Plan B. I pull onto the street, racing to the corner. I ain’t about to tell either moll that the plan I’ll go with will depend on which gal will be the one to help me stick around. Above making headlines, above getting my own museum, and most of all, above romance, is staying alive past morning.
Plan A is to take over Jack completely and have Twinkle by my side. A shiny new gal for my shiny new life. But until I figure out the rules about how this works, I need to keep my weakness a secret. Otherwise, Twinkle could let Bonnie start yammering at me right at the deadline, which could allow Jack back in charge. I suspect Twinkle already knows that my weakness is thinking about Bonnie, but I can’t ask her straight out or it’ll tip her off. As much as I hate lying to her, I need to plant a little reminder in Twinkle’s mind that smelling something strong is what makes me change.
If I can’t get Twinkle to spill the beans about what’ll happen at the end, I’ve got no choice but to resort to Plan B—convincing Bonnie that wooing Twinkle was all part of my game. Shouldn’t be too hard. Bonnie’s the kind of woman who needs a man to tell her what to feel, how to think—and I’m that man. A streak of light no bigger than a wink of an eye whizzes past my brain, then dies.
“You sure had your share of heartaches,” I tell Twinkle, hoping to get her back into a sharing mood. “Sad that your mama left us early, but it sure explains why you’re tougher than an armadillo.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Do I say thank you to that?”
I laugh. “I reckon so. I don’t know about you, but losing Buck changed me. I wasn’t no angel before, but afterward, I did things I normally wouldn’t, trying to rid myself of the guilt and the sadness. Ain’t no excuse. Just saying I wasn’t in my right mind for a while after, you know?”
She nods slowly, her eyebrows wrinkled up. “I never thought of it that way, but my first arrest was only a few months after my mom died. Stole the brand and color of the lipstick she used to wear. Was holding it, thinking of her, and just walked out with it. That one was an accident. But it gave me such a rush, I thought, let me try that again! So I stole an expensive bottle of perfume, and that’s when I got caught.” She sighs. “Second time indirectly had to do with my mom, too. Was at the after-homecoming party, thinking about how much I wished she could have seen me in my dress, so I did a few shots to numb the pain. And then a few more until finally, when the cops busted the party, I was passed out on the couch.”
“Strange, ain’t it? How we both got ourselves in trouble thinking about someone that we was missing?”
“Is that when you, um, started killing people? After Buck died?” Her voice goes up at the end, like she ain’t sure she should be asking about stuff like that.
I shift in my seat, figuring it can’t hurt for her to know. “Nah. Sorry to say, I’d already killed a few by then.” I pause, adding, “But only when I felt I had to. But after Buck was gone, I got ruthless, trying to find a way to get rid of the pain in my chest. I wanted to punish everyone, especially the Texas prison system. Goddam guards beat us, stuffed us in sweatboxes outside on hundred-degree days, hoping we’d die in there. Did even worse stuff—stuff I can’t talk about.” Before I can stop myself, I picture the first guy I killed, a guard named Crowder, and the things he did to me when I was just a babe in prison, so young I still had peach fuzz on my chin. I ball up my fist and punch the seat next to me. Fucking Crowder—nastiest piece of lowlife scum that ever walked the earth.
“What’s wrong?” Twinkle fiddles with her necklace nervously.
“Nothing.” I veer in front of a red sports car, narrowly sliding between two cars before hitting the gas. I picture his ugly face, his gray sweat-stained undershirt, his pants around his ankles, pinning my scrawny sixteen-year-old arms down like they was toothpicks. I grip the wheel harder, trying with all my might to block out the rest of those scenes, day after day, while the other guards sat around and played cards, laughing. Cocksuckers. I swerve around cars left and right, doing forty, then fifty, blind with anger.
Twinkle grabs the armrests, craning her neck to look behind us. “What’s wrong, Clyde? Are the cops after us?”
A slow-moving car exits the mall parking lot, pulling into my lane.
“Watch out!” she screams, covering her face.
I swerve around Granny with an inch to spare. The tires squeal and the seat belt bites my shoulder. “Have you ever felt what it’s like when you ain’t in control and no one comes to help?”
Twinkle grips the dashboard, holding on tight. “Yes, right now!” she wails. “If there weren’t cops before, there will be now! Please, Clyde, stop this!”
Her words wake me up. She’s right. I need to get control of myself. I brake hard and swerve into an empty filling station on my right, so fast that the truck hitches up on
two wheels for a short stretch before hitting the ground. I get the truck under control and pull into a spot alongside a pump at the far end, too juiced up to drive another moment longer. I throw the pickup into park and lean my head forward on the steering wheel, panting heavily.
“What was that? Were you trying to get us killed?” she screeches, staring at me.
“Not us, a memory.” I shut off the engine and get out, slamming the door. I kick the tire twice and rest my arms over the back hatch, trying to cool off. If Crowder was in front of me now, I’d pound his face in with the shovel, stab his eyes with the weed puller, and cut off his manhood with the shears. I let him off way too easy when I slugged him with that lead pipe, killing him with a single blow.
Makes me realize I lied to Twinkle earlier. I did enjoy killing him.
Twinkle gets out, staring at me with rattlesnake eyes, lids half-closed and waiting to pounce. “I’m buying food and going to the bathroom. When I come back, I’m driving.”
“Afraid not,” I say, teasing her.
“You still pulling that ‘you’re the boss’ stuff again?” She puts her hands on her hips, all tough-like. “You’re not the only one who likes speed and power, you know. Trust me when I say that when I get behind the wheel, I’ll drive like the devil.”
Hearing her talk like that makes me like her even more. I stare at her, smiling. “The devil, huh? You and me truly was cut from the same cloth, you know that? We’re both hot-headed, hot-blooded, forthright, and smart as whips. Really good-looking, too.” I step closer to her, grinning. “You still ain’t driving, but how’s about another kiss to last me until you get back?”
“You make me crazy!” She storms off toward the market, without kissing me, but I see a smirk on her lips.
“Crazy about me, I bet!” I call out, teasing.
“Nope!”
I shake my head, smiling. That girl got more sass than a blister beetle. Good thing I saw in her eyes and in her kiss how she felt about me earlier, or I’d be worried right now.
Taking a deep breath to settle my nerves, I look around for a car that we can trade up for. After checking out the five cars that are here, none of ’em look “old” like Twinkle called it. It’s risky keeping the pickup, but there ain’t another option, lessing I steal one that’s running. Course, we’ve driven near five hours, all the way to Mt. Vernon, Illinois, in this truck without a hitch, so maybe I’m fretting about nothing. Besides, it’ll be hard to see the license tag with no light on it. I kneel down and untwist the two tiny light bulbs that shine on the numbers. There. Hopefully there won’t be no moon out tonight neither. When I look at the sky, I see a lightning bolt way off in the distance. And I smile. Coppers don’t like to be out driving in the rain.
I stick the hose into the gas spout and squeeze the handle, but nothing comes out. I try again, but the gas line is either dry or broken. A dull brown car pulls up across from me. I watch a scrawny white-haired gent inch his way out of the car, take a plastic card from his wallet, and then slide it through the slot on the pump. So that’s what I need. I grab Jack Daniel’s wallet, flip it open, and lo and behold, what do I see but a shiny silver card smiling up at me.
I did exactly as the old coot did. I try again and this time, it works. The numbers on the pump fly so fast they make me dizzy. My stomach gets an ache watching the price go up, until I remember that Jack Daniel’s footing the bill. While it’s filling up, I use the time to take a piss in the bushes. When I’m zipping up, Twinkle hustles toward me with a brown bag in her arm.
And she’s not smiling.
My heart sinks. “What’s wrong, woman?”
“Please tell me you didn’t use Jack’s credit card to get gas.” She stares at me, her bright green eyes filled with worry.
“A silver plastic card with numbers on it?” I ask, not admitting nothing until she tells me why she wants to know.
“Damn it!” She looks over her shoulder, scanning the street with her eyes. “If they’re looking for you, for us, the cops might be tracking its usage.” She grabs her forehead like her head hurts. “I just realized. Maybe our phones, too.”
“What? How?” I freeze, wanting answers.
“Remember the robot satellite system I told you about? The one for the GPS maps? Well, the cops can use that system to pinpoint where we are. We need to turn the power off right now.” She holds up her phone and pushes a button before tossing it back into her purse. “And the credit card transactions go through a computer and they can find us that way too.”
I don’t understand all she’s saying, but I know it ain’t good. I dig into my pocket and pull out my communicating device. “Here. Do mine.”
She grabs it from my hand, our skin touching briefly. I hear Bonnie yelp, “Hey!”
Twinkle rolls her eyes, slides a button on the side of Jack Daniel’s phone, and hands it back to me—this time making sure our skin don’t touch. “And no more credit cards, either.”
“Agreed. Let’s go.” We turn toward the truck, but to my surprise, Twinkle races to the driver’s side and leaps in behind the wheel.
“What are you doing?” I stand next to the open door. “We ain’t got time to mess around.”
“I ain’t messing round,” she says, imitating me, a Texas-sized drawl dripping from her lips.
My stomach drops. “Bonnie?”
She laughs. “Nah, I’m just teasing you. But come on, please? I want to drive a while.”
I trot out my proper Northerner talk, making sure to pronounce my endings. “Now is not the time. Please take your cute little bee-hind out of the driver’s seat, Miss Twinkle.”
Her mouth drops open. “How did you do that? I couldn’t hear your accent at all!”
I grin. “I’m mighty talented, Twinkle. I tole you that before. Wait. I told you that before.” I hold my hand out, as to assist her out of the car. “Now please don’t argue with me for once.”
“What happened to the true partners thing you said before?” She eyes me squinty-like, waiting for my answer.
“I meant it. It’s just that now’s not the right time—please?”
She smiles. “Fine. But at some point I really do want to drive, okay?” She sets the bag down on the floor between the two seats and gets out, her breasts brushing my chest as she scoots past me, sending a chill up and down my body.
She bites her lip, grinning. “Oops, sorry.”
“I ain’t.” I can’t stand being this close without kissing her. I put my arm up, blocking her off from leaving. “About that kiss.” She’s so close her breath is warm on my cheek.
“I want to, but I don’t know if we should,” she says, looking up at me with those green eyes that draw me in like a moth to a flame. “I mean, Bonnie got awfully mad and I’m—”
And just like last time, I lean in and kiss her before I have any more reminders that could cause me trouble. Her tongue is spicy hot as it teases mine, slowly, playfully—so different than any other girl. We kiss for several seconds, the heavenly scent of cinnamon rousing all my senses—which makes me realize once and for all that smelling something strong don’t have nothing to do with letting Jack back in.
Still, I’m careful not to let my body press close to hers, lest I get carried away. I’m about to end the kiss so we can get back on the road, when her hands reach up around my back and pull me closer. I know precious time is escaping, but kissing her is so interesting and new, a few seconds more won’t hurt. My fingers stroke her neck, across her shoulder blades, and end at her shoulders, where I give a gentle squeeze to signal that we need to make tracks.
Apparently that’s not enough for Twinkle—she wants more.
She puts a hand on each of my butt cheeks and forcefully pulls my hips forward into hers. She moans, moving slowly in circles and twisting her head to kiss me first left, then right, her tongue flitting in and out of my mouth fast, the same way that—I stop, pull away, confused. Twinkle told me that Bonnie could only speak through her when I touched her
, but that she controlled her own body. But something ain’t right with that last kiss because those moves was exactly like Bonnie’s—fast and urgent.
“Bonnie?” I ask, stepping back, a lump in my throat the size of a gopher. “Is that you?”
Flashing lights start up behind my eyes, so I fight back with my mind. I’m stronger than Jackie Daniel, I just… have to… hold on. A taste as vile as death itself comes into my mouth, so I turn my head and spit onto the ground.
“You have to ask?” She reaches for my belt. “How’s about we start up where we left off.”
I look into Twinkle’s eyes and see the pain of not being in control of her own body. I grab on to both her wrists and peel them off me before Jack Daniel takes over, too. Before I let go, Bonnie yammers, “Don’t let go, baby. I’m getting stronger each second you’re holding on to me. She’s been keeping secrets from you!”
“Is that right?” Knowing Bonnie’s right here, ready to pitch woo along with anything else I tell her to do, should make me as happy as the day I got freed from Eastham Prison. But instead, I’m feeling out of sorts, maybe even a little sad. I guess I’ve taken an even more powerful shine to Twinkle than I thought. I know we need to get back on the road and fast, but not before I hear what Bonnie has to say about what’s really in Twinkle’s heart.
Bonnie, or maybe it’s Twinkle, squirms in my grip. “The little tramp figured out that it’s our own strengths and weaknesses that let us flow into each other. Running her mouth is her weakness, but you’re my strength, Honey Bear. Turns out that the longer you hold me, the stronger I get. So you’d better not let go, y’hear?” If I keep on wasting time, I could miss my opportunity to switch places with Jack Daniel forever. As I start leading her toward the passenger side of the truck, Twinkle tries to dig her feet into the ground, fighting me. Like coaxing a sick child into the doctor’s office, I push and tug her.
