Jackrabbit Junction Jitters

by Ann Charles

“Mac?”

  Silence. Claire held the phone to her ear for another few seconds, then disconnected. She punched in Mac’s cell phone number and got his voice mail.

  “Damn it!” She slipped back inside to escape the heat.

  Ruby stood in front of the walnut bar, her arms crossed. “What’s goin’ on?”

  Claire cursed under her breath. Ruby didn’t miss a trick.

  Plastering a fake, sunny smile on her face, Claire shrugged. “Nothing. I just wanted some fresh air.”

  Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “It’s one hundred and six degrees in the shade out there. Why were you talking to Mac outside?”

  Panicking, Claire said the first thing that came to mind, “Phone sex.” She felt her cheeks blaze at her own lie. “It’s been a while since we’ve uhhh … been intimate, and we were both feeling kind of … frisky. I didn’t want Jess to hear.”

  Ruby held Claire’s gaze for several agonizing seconds, then sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Thanks for considering Jess’s ever-growin’ curiosity … I guess.”

  She glanced down at the phone in Claire’s hand. Her lips tilted down at the corners. “There are some disinfectant wipes under the bathroom sink.”

  Without another word, she headed toward her bedroom.

  Crossing the rec room, Claire banged her head on the bar—repeatedly. She needed to work on her lie-on-the-fly skills.

  * * *

  Sitting at the same Euchre table as her mother was the last place on the planet that Claire wanted to be at the moment.

  Dangling from a noose under the starlit sky with hungry wolves nipping at her heels would have been preferable.

  “It’s your bid, Deborah.” Ruby’s fake smile shook at the corners of her lips.

  Thankfully, Claire had been partnered with Ruby for this round in the tournament, so she could continue giving her mother the silent treatment without much of a problem.

  “Thank you for yet another reminder.” Deborah rearranged the cards in her hand. “You seem to be in another bad mood tonight, Ruby. Are you still going through ‘the change’? Or is this just a case of prenuptial jitters?”

  Shooting her mother a scowl, Claire shifted in her seat. The tension crackling in the air tonight had nothing to do with the lightening-filled storm clouds that had rumbled through the valley an hour earlier.

  Ruby stared hard at her cards, her hands trembling ever so slightly. “Prenuptial jitters, of course, Deborah,” she said through lips so stiff they barely moved, the drawl that usually softened her speech nowhere to be heard.

  “Stop chattering and play.” Chester told the two women, then puffed on his cigar.

  Hear, hear! Claire thought. They were one hand away from being done for the night.

  Wrinkling her nose, Deborah waved cigar smoke out of her face. “I can’t believe Ruby lets you smoke those things in her house. Not only do they stink, but look how they’ve made the ceiling all yellow. Disgusting.”

  Chester threw his cards face-down on the table. “Deborah, bid, or I’m going to shove this cigar up your—”

  “Chester!” Gramps interrupted from where he sat sideways at the other card table with Manny, Kate, and Jess. He adjusted the bag of ice draped across the bare ankle he’d twisted earlier when trying to step over Henry; it now rested on a cushion-covered, upside down bucket.

  “What? I was going to say, ‘nose.’”

  “Patience is obviously not on your list of virtues,” Deborah said.

  “I gave up virtues along with cigarettes years ago; now pass or pick a number between one and six so that we can finish getting our butts kicked and move on to the next round.”

  Manny chuckled. “Someone sounds like a sore loser.”

  “Kiss my loser ass, Carrera.”

  The two men had been at each other’s throats since Manny found out Milly had shared Chester’s two-timing tale with Rebecca, who in turn told Manny that she’d sooner French kiss a rattlesnake than go on a date with him.

  “Nice language, two-timer,” Manny said. “Kiss your girlfriend with those lips, or are you too busy screwing around with her sister?”

  Chester flipped Manny the bird. “Now bid, Deborah!”

  “Keep your pants on, you old grouch.” She shuffled her cards around some more.

  “That’s impossible for Chester when there are females in the room.” Manny jabbed again.

  “Knock it off,” Gramps said. “You two—”

  Deborah let out a loud, fury-filled shriek.

  Claire almost fell out of her chair and knocked over her bottle of Corona while trying to keep from crashing butt-first to the floor. Cool beer ran over the side of the table and landed in her lap, soaking into the crotch of her jean shorts. “Shit!”

  “I’ll grab a towel.” Ruby rose from her chair.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Gramps asked Deborah.

  Deborah shot up from the table so fast her chair flipped over. “Your rotten dog has my boot!”

  She ran toward Henry, who stood at the base of the stairwell with one, well-chewed, not-so-shiny red boot.

  As Deborah made a grab for the boot, Henry hopped sideways, just out of reach. Deborah let out a very unlady-like curse. She turned and grabbed again, catching just a pinch-full of dog hair as Henry ducked and weaved and zipped across the room. He slid to a stop at Gramps’s feet and dropped onto his belly, the boot still firmly clamped in his jaws.

  Claire’s chest bubbled with laughter. Ruby handed her a towel. Glancing up to thank her, Claire saw Ruby’s first true smile of the night.

  Jess let out a loud, hiccupping laugh.

  “You think this is funny, do you?” Deborah snarled as she tromped toward the other table. “We’ll see how much you laugh when you have to pay me back for my boots.”

  Jess sobered quickly, her smile flattening out. “Why me?”

  “Yeah, why her?” Gramps asked. “He’s my dog.”

  “She’s the one who let him in and didn’t shut him in the bathroom like her mother told her to.” Deborah whirled on Ruby. “Your inability to keep a clean house is superseded only by your inability to control your daughter.”

  Ruby gasped.

  “Mom!” Kate grabbed Deborah’s forearm. “You’re overreacting. Sit down, put your head between your knees, and take a couple of breaths.”

  “I am not, and you keep out of this!” Deborah’s neck was now blood red, almost the color of her precious boots. “Those boots weren’t cheap. They’re made of alligator skin.”

  Claire snickered as she mopped up the last of her spilled beer with Ruby’s towel.

  “What are you laughing at, Claire?” Deborah’s voice rose even louder. “Maybe you should help Jess pay for the boots. You’ve been jealous of them since I brought them home. I’ve seen you eyeing them more than once.”

  Claire ignored her one-screw-loose mother.

  “If you’d manage to keep a job for more than two weeks,” Deborah continued, spouting sparks like a Roman candle, “you could afford your own pair of alligator boots.”

  Clare handed the beer-soaked towel to Ruby. “That’s not alligator skin, Mother. It’s alligator lizard skin. If you’d stopped blowing hot air and listened a little, you probably would’ve heard the salesman tell you that.”

  “How do you know what the salesman said?”

  “Kate told me.” Claire dragged her sister into the fire. It was only fair, since they both came from the she-devil’s womb.

  Deborah reeled on Kate, who slunk down in her chair while nailing Claire with a pissed-off glare.

  “You knew they weren’t real alligator, Kathryn, and you let me buy them anyway? Why? To share a laugh with your sister behind my back?”

  “Mom, stop it.” Claire stood, intending to snuff out this wildfire before it spread any further.

  Deborah held out her don’t-talk-back hand to silence Claire. “You’ve said enough.”

  Years of conditioning stopped Claire in her tracks.

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nbsp; Kate lifted her cards in front of her face and frowned at them. “Mom, sit down and chill. We can get new boots tomorrow.”

  “Don’t you placate me!” Deborah snatched Kate’s cards from her hand and threw them on the floor. “I know how Claire and you are. You two get a big kick out of laughing at me.”

  Kate shook her head. “That’s not—”

  “Oh, shut it, Kathryn. I heard you two whispering the first night we got here, wondering how your father ever managed to stay with me as long as he did.”

  Grimacing, Claire could’ve kicked herself. She should have known better than to complain within a mile radius of her mother. Deborah’s hearing rivaled most species of bats.

  “Well, I’ll tell you something neither of you know. Your perfect father was having an affair with another woman for the last two years of our marriage.”

  Silence suffocated the room. Henry buried his snout in the end of Deborah’s boot.

  Huffing, Deborah stood in the center of the room, her eyes wide, like a cornered coyote.

  Claire dropped into her chair, feeling like she’d played chicken with a wrecking ball and forgot to duck at the last minute. Surely Deborah was lying. Claire’s dad would never …

  Ruby stepped forward first. “Deborah, honey, I’m so sorry.” She reached for Claire’s mom.

  “No!” Deborah batted Ruby’s hands away. “I don’t want pity, especially not from you. You’re no better than the hussy who stole my husband.”

  Ruby jerked back as if she’d been bitten.

  “Deborah!” Gramps shot out of his chair.

  “You should know better than to marry a man old enough to be your father. How long before you start lying about where you’ve been all evening, or hopping from one bed to another? When the money runs out? Or right after you get that gold band on your finger?”

  “My God, you sure are one miserable woman.” Ruby crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Ruby, don’t.” Gramps limped toward the two women, who circled each other like a pair of rutting buffalos. His twisted ankle barely slowed him up.

  “Sit down, Harley.” Ruby shot him a fiery glare. “You shouldn’t be putting weight on that ankle.”

  “God damn it, woman, I told you to quit coddling me. I’m not an invalid.”

  Deborah’s smile was full of razor-sharp teeth. “Not yet, anyway. You better sit down, Dad. You don’t want Ruby throwing you in a nursing home right after you say, ‘I do.’”

  “You self-righteous bitch!” Ruby leered at Deborah.

  Deborah lifted her chin. “Gold-digging whore!”

  “You’re a bossy old hag!” Jess told Deborah, her eyes burning two holes in Claire’s mom’s back.

  “Jessica Lynn, you stay out of this.”

  “But, Mom, she called you—”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Yes, it is!” Jess’s voice reached a shrilling level. Much louder and beer bottles would start breaking. “Least it should be my business since you’re replacing me with Harley!”

  “Jessica!” Ruby turned toward her daughter. “Not now.”

  “When then? After I move to Ohio?”

  Claire blinked, frowning at Jess, surprised the girl chose this venue to reveal her plan to run away from home. The kid needed to work on her timing.

  “I know all about your Ohio plans,” Ruby said, “and this is not the time or place to discuss them.”

  Jess shot Claire a look brimming with hurt. “You promised you wouldn’t tell! You’re just like all of the other adults around this place.”

  “Jess, I didn’t—” Claire started to explain that she hadn’t told Ruby.

  “If you’re going to tell my secrets, I’ll tell yours.”

  Claire’s breath caught. Which ones? “No, Jess wait—”

  “Like how you found that mummy hand in Joe’s office.”

  All eyes turned to Claire, except for Kate who was eyeing the back door.

  “Did she say ‘mummy hand’?” Gramps frowned at Claire.

  “I think she said, ‘Rummy hand.’” Chester clarified.

  “You need to flush the wax out of your ears again, you deaf fool,” Manny said.

  “And how you paid me to dig up dirt on Porter on the Internet,” Jess added.

  Kate glared at Claire. “I told you Porter is innocent.”

  “And how you told me not to tell that Porter snuck—”

  “Jessica Lynn Wayne!” Ruby interrupted with a resonance that comes only with having pushed a child out through the birth canal. “Up to your room, right now!”

  The wind billowing Jess’s sails stilled. “But Mom—”

  “Now!”

  “Fine! I’m so outta this shithole town.” Jess kicked a table leg.

  “If you even try to leave this house, I’ll personally hunt you down and make you wish you’d never shoved your curly red head out into the world.” Ruby’s chest rose and fell quickly. “And watch your mouth!”

  Tears threatening, Jess raced out of the room.

  “Damn it, Claire.” Gramps spoke up after Jess was out of sight. “What have I told you about snooping around?”

  “Gramps, you don’t understand, Porter is—”

  “Not guilty of anything other than showing you kindness.” Kate finished for her. “Would you just leave the poor man alone?”

  “Yeah, sure, as soon as you leave Butch alone,” Claire said.

  “Butch who?” Chester asked.

  “The bartender at The Shaft.” Manny grinned. “I saw them driving off together yesterday morning.”

  “They were on a date,” Ruby explained to Chester.

  “A date?” Deborah gaped. “Why are you wasting your time with the owner of some rinky-dink bar when you have a handsome author coming around? I swear, Kathryn, you’ve been spending too much time in the sun. You act more like Claire every day.”

  “Can it, Mother.” Claire was sick of being the butt of all of her mom’s comments.

  “And you act more like your father every day.” Deborah looked at Claire as if she’d grown feelers and preferred to scuttle about in dark, wet places.

  “You mean rational and intelligent, Mom?”

  “Unlike me, you mean?”

  Claire smirked. Her mother was the world champion at turning insults around and crying “poor me.”

  “Hey, if the shoe—or chewed up boot—fits.”

  Deborah clenched her fists. “You call shacking up with some guy you barely know rational and intelligent?”

  “Mac is not just ‘some guy,’ and quit trying to drag him down with you.”

  “Mac is just like all of the other men—out for a free roll in the hay. Why pay for sex when you can get it for free?”

  “Drop it, Mom.” Talking about her sex life in front of Gramps and his buddies made Claire feel like someone had dumped worms down her shorts.

  “You don’t just hop into bed with a man because he looks nice in a pair of pants. You never think of the long term, Claire. Ever since you were toddling around the house, you’ve been foolish and impulsive. And now you’ve rubbed off on your grandfather. I hope you’re happy.”

  Kate stood. “Mom, you need to go to bed.”

  “No, she needs to go home.” Claire rubbed her temples, wishing someone would ring the bell and call an end to this cage match.

  “I’m not leaving this place until your grandfather comes to his senses and puts a stop to this wedding.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Ruby said. “If Harley doesn’t marry me, you’ll leave?”

  “Correct.”

  “Fine. The weddin’ is off.” Ruby pointed at the stair. “Now go pack your bags.”

  Kate gasped. Claire’s jaw hit the floor.

  “Wait a second.” Gramps held a hand out toward Ruby.

  “No.” Ruby turned on him. “I’ve had it with your inability to control your daughter. Call and cancel the cake, because I’m not marrying anyone this weekend, especially not you.�
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  Without another word, Ruby stalked out of the room, her head held high. The bedroom door slammed behind her.

  Gramps grabbed Deborah’s forearm. “Pack your shit, right now. You leave first thing in the morning.”

  She shook her head. “Not without you.”

  “You don’t understand. If you’re not gone by sundown tomorrow, I’ll drag your ass to Tucson and leave you at the airport myself.” He limped over to the back door. The windows rattled with his exit.

  Spinning around, Deborah pointed at Claire. “If I leave, you’re coming with me.” She climbed the steps to her room without a backwards glance.

  Feeling like she’d caught a fastball with her gut, Claire looked at her sister, then Chester, then Manny, and then Henry, who lay on the floor chewing on the boot that broke the camel’s back.

  She could use a cigarette about now. Hell, they all could.

  “Euchre, anyone?” Chester picked up Deborah’s cards and frowned. “She should have passed.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Friday, August 20th

  “Here we are.” Butch slowed his pickup to a stop.

  Here where? Kate stared through the bug-splattered windshield at an aluminum gate bearing a No Trespassing sign. Utilitarian rather than ornate, the gate barred the end of a gravel drive that crested the top of a small hill covered with orange-brown dirt and patches of scrubby green bushes.

  “Be right back.” He grabbed a set of keys from his coin-filled ashtray. Kate watched from his air-cooled truck as he unlocked a padlock that secured the gate to a post, opened the gate, and then blocked it open with a large stone.

  “What is this place?” she asked when Butch crawled back behind the wheel and shifted into gear.

  “It’s where your sister got shot.”

  As they rolled up the drive, Kate sent several sidelong glances Butch’s way. Why did he have a key that opened the padlock on Sophy Wheeler’s gate?

  Butch cut the engine in front of a gray, single-story, cinderblock house. Kate followed him out of the pickup, shielding her eyes from the mid-morning sun.

  She spun slowly, taking in the surrounding, mostly-barren hills that hid the place. Behind the house, a string of violet mountains outlined the mounds of orange-brown dirt. Wind chimes hung from the porch roof, dinging in the warm breeze winding up through the small canyon. Dust salted the back of Kate’s throat. The place felt barren, full of ghosts.