by John Locke
When I’m settled in the car, he says, “Are you up for a short trip?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I need to meet someone.”
“Who?”
“Faith Hemphill.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Why do you ask?”
I frown. “Is this gonna be a regular thing with you?”
“What?”
“The women, Gideon. Every time I turn around you’re with one woman or another, and either her pants are off, or yours are around your ankles.”
“This meeting’s about you,” he says.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Well I’ve got no interest in meetin’ her!”
“Why not?”
“Did you not drive two full hours a few days ago hopin’ to bang her?”
“Yes. But I learned a valuable lesson that day, with her, Zander, and Renee.”
“To keep your dick in your pants?”
“Yes.”
“Promise it.”
“As long as you’re willing to stay with me, I promise to keep my dick in my pants.”
I laugh.
“What?”
“You just basically promised we’ll never have sex.”
“I did?”
“Rewind it in your head.”
He does. Then says, “That didn’t come out right. I need a mulligan.”
“Too late,” I say. “You already made the promise.”
54
Turns out we’re meeting Faith Hemphill at the half-way mark to her house because she has sea horses she can’t leave for more than four hours at a time. When I see her I’m no longer jealous. She looks old enough to be Gideon’s mom, and burly enough to play offensive tackle for the Tennessee Titans.
The reason we’re meetin’ Faith makes less sense than the idea of Gideon datin’ her in the first place. She’s here to sell him some sort of powder that can disable people, and make ’em crazy enough to shoot each other by mistake.
The three of us are standin’ in a vacant lot where a gas station used to be. It’s all hush-hush, like some sort of big-time drug deal.
Gideon says, “You brought the powder packets?”
Faith says, “You brought the cash?”
When they make the exchange I laugh out loud.
Faith raises her chin at me and says, “Is that her? The one you felt up?”
I say, “You told her that?”
“Renfro told me first,” Faith says. She casts a careful eye on me and says, “You’re puny.” To Gideon, she says, “Couldn’t a’ taken you five seconds to feel whatever she’s got in that little trainin’ bra.”
“At least I get measured for my bras,” I say. “Instead of surveyed.”
“Ladies, please!” Gideon says.
“Sorry,” Faith says. “That was me bein’ jealous.”
“Me too,” I say. “So, this powder really works?”
“Ask Cletus and Renfro,” she says.
I walk over to her, and we shake hands.
“How does it work?” I say.
“You any good at chuckin’ rocks?”
I smile. “What kind of country girl would I be if I couldn’t chuck rocks?”
Faith says, “Gideon, walk away from us a minute.”
When he gets about fifteen feet away, she calls him by name. He turns to look at us, and Faith hurls a dust bomb at him.
Gideon screams as it explodes on his chest.
Faith says, “Don’t be such a pussy. That ain’t nothin’ but flour and bakin’ soda.”
“You could’ve warned me,” Gideon says, slappin’ the powder off his clothes.
She hands me a packet and says, “Now you try. Remember to fling it hard.”
I hurl the packet at Gideon and he explodes into a cloud of flour for the second time.
“Damn it!” he shouts.
“Shouldn’t I aim for the face?” I say.
“The chest is a bigger target. You hit a man’s chest with the blindin’ powder, it’ll put him on the ground quick.”
“What if he closes his eyes at the last second?”
“The glass and pepper dust hangs in the air. After a man’s been hit, he’ll open his eyes. It’s a natural reaction. When he does, the glass and pepper gets in there and burns like hell. He’ll rub his eyes to ease the pain, but what he’s really doin’ is rubbing ground glass into his eyeballs. It’s brutal.”
“I don’t think I can do that to a person,” I say.
“If your life’s on the line you’ll use it and wish you had more.”
“On the bright side, everyone who wants to hurt me is either dead or hurt.”
“I hope you’re right. But I’m still keepin’ the money Doc Box give me just now.”
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think Gideon was at your place when Cletus and Renfro broke in.”
She gives Gideon a look and says, “Why would you think that?”
“My husband sent them to kill Gideon, not you. Dumb as they were, they would’ve known if his car was at your place. They wouldn’t have broken into your house unless they knew he was in there.”
“I expect you’ll keep those thoughts to yourself,” she says.
“What thoughts?” I say.
She smiles.
“I could learn to like you,” she says.
“I already like you.”
“Why’s that?”
I point at Gideon.
We laugh.
“Kiss my ass!” he says.
“That’s Trudy’s job,” Faith says, “though I don’t know why she’d want it.”
55
“You bought ten packets from her?” I say, after Faith leaves.
“I only wanted two, but she needs another tank.”
“Is that supposed to make sense?” I say.
“Her seahorse tanks cost a thousand bucks each. She wouldn’t sell me less than a thousand dollars’ worth of powder.”
“What’ll you do with the other eight packets?”
“Keep them for our protection in the city. Can you imagine someone trying to mug us and getting a face full of blinding powder? It’s a ridiculously effective weapon, with a shelf life of forever. And you don’t need a permit to carry it.”
“Sounds like you’re in hog heaven.”
“I feel like the caveman who discovered fire,” he says.
“Powerful?”
“You know it.”
“Maybe I’d respect that power more if you didn’t look like the Pillsbury Dough Boy,” I say.
“Right.”
“Want some help gettin’ that flour off your clothes?”
“All help would be greatly appreciated.”
I start punchin’ his back and sides.
“Ow!” he yells. “What the hell?”
“You seemed to take pleasure beatin’ me up. I want to see if I get the same rush.”
“Stop!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t enjoy hitting you. And I’ll never do it again.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t heard an apology yet.”
“Apology? For what?”
“Uh…for hittin’ me? Hello?”
“You made me do it.”
“To save your ass from a felony assault charge.”
He thinks about it a minute, then says, “You’re right. You took all that pain for me, and didn’t have to. I think I’ve been looking at this from my own, selfish point of view. As usual.”
“I’m listenin’,” I say.
“I thought by running over Darrell I saved you from a much worse beating. But once Darrell was incapacitated, you could’ve let the police come to the barn and draw their own conclusions. And if that happened, they would’ve thrown me in jail and Darrell would’ve had a legal case against me.”
“You just now came to that conclusion?”
He says,
“I’m sorry, Trudy.”
“For?”
“For hitting you.”
“You’re forgiven. Now let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Okay, but slap, don’t punch, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Ouch! Shit! Slap my clothes, not my face!”
“Sorry.”
When we get to my place, Gideon insists on checkin’ each room. He makes sure all the doors and windows are locked. Peeks in the closets and under the beds. Here’s a guy that came to town a few days ago thinkin’ about no one but himself. Now he’s practically dotin’ on me.
I like it.
But he needs to get back to Nashville and catch a flight.
“I’ll be fine,” I say.
“Okay.”
He reviews for the third time how he’s booked a limo to drive here from Nashville to pick me up in two weeks. He gets on my computer and prints out the airline reservation and tells me how to check my bags.
“You’ve never flown before,” he says. “I don’t want you to be nervous.”
“I’m not the least bit nervous. I’m excited!”
“The driver will take you to the airport. You’re flying non-stop to LaGuardia Airport. When you get to the gate-”
“When I get to the gate, I’ll go to baggage claim,” I say. “You’ll be standin’ there with a limo driver. Got it. Now go on, before you miss your flight.”
“I hate to leave you here without a car. How will you get to your attorney meetings and all the other places you’ll need to be?”
“Kennon will drive me anywhere I need to go durin’ the day. At night, while she’s at work, I’ll be right here, safe and sound.”
“I wish you had neighbors.”
“I’ve got neighbors on both sides.”
“What, a mile away?”
“Quarter mile at most. I can run a sixty-second quarter, by the way.”
He frowns, then hands me two packets of powder.
“Keep these in your back pocket at all times. If you have to use them outside, make sure the wind is at your back. Don’t get within ten feet of the cloud it makes. Better yet, throw it and run the opposite way.”
“Got it.”
“I’m serious, Trudy. If the wind shifts, you’re toast.”
“Kiss me goodbye, Gideon. I’ll see you in two weeks.”
He kisses me, takes a long, last look, then leaves.
I stand at the door and watch him drive away.
When he’s completely out of sight, I lock the door, turn on the livin’ room fan to get the air circulatin’, and start puttin’ things in piles. These I’m throwin’ away, these I’m givin’ away, these I’m takin’ with me to New York City. After a few hours of that, I go online, email some friends about my hospital adventure, tell ’em about Dr. Box, and how I’m goin’ to New York City. Then I call Alice T’s and tell Big Ed I’m quittin’.
“I could use you here these next two weeks,” he says.
“With Scooter laid up and out of town, I’d be too skittish at closin’ time,” I say.
“Kennon could bring you like before, and I could drive you home.”
“I couldn’t let you do that. Plus, Dottie would skin us both.”
He laughs. “She’s right jealous, my wife. If you come in to say goodbye, I’ll catch you up on your hours.”
“Forget those few hours of pay, Ed. You’ve been more than fair with me. But I’ll want a hug from you and the girls before runnin’ off to New York.”
“You’re finally going to do it!” he says.
“I finally am.”
“I know that’s what you always wanted,” he says, “and more power to you. But I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too, Ed.”
I hang up, watch a little TV, make some dinner, eat, put the dishes up, walk back through the house to turn off the lights. When I get to the livin’ room, I nearly jump out of my skin.
Sheriff Boyle’s sittin’ in Daddy’s TV chair with his feet propped up like he owns the place, givin’ me a look that says he ain’t here on official police business. I start to reach into my back pocket, but stop when I realize the fan is runnin’ full blast behind him. If I throw the powder at him it’ll blow back on me.
“How’d you get in here?” I say.
“I’ve had a key to Scooter’s place for years. And he’s got a key to mine.”
“Well, Scooter’s not here.”
“I wouldn’t’ be here if he was.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
56
For a split second, I freeze. I think about askin’ Sheriff Boyle what he means, but his meanin’ couldn’t possibly be more clear. He’s starin’ at me with dead eyes, like he’s been drinkin’ all afternoon and come to a snap decision.
“You need to go home, now, Sheriff. Luby’s gonna be worried about you.”
“Luby’ll be just fine, Trudy.”
“You’ve been drinkin’. You shouldn’t be here.”
“You have no idea what it’s been like these two years. Seeing you sashay your sweet little ass all over town, hooking up with this loser or that one, always trying to get away, like our town isn’t good enough for you. Then you hook up with a fuck up like Darrell, your own brother, and now you aim to run off with a guy old enough to be your father, who’s my age, by the way.”
“You need to head on home now, Sheriff, Luby’ll have dinner waitin’ on the table.”
“What have you got for me, Trudy?”
“Excuse me?”
“You give it up for all these losers. I’m the law in this town. I’m the one who protects people. You let a total stranger feel you up at the fence? What about me?”
“You’ve already got a woman, Sheriff. And a fine one, at that.”
He scrunches his face up and runs his fingers through his hair and says, “You send for me to come to the hospital last night like I’m some sort of errand boy, tell me how to run my business. Then you tell me to go fuck myself.”
“Well, I’m sorry about that. I was frustrated. I definitely owe you an apology.”
“You owe me a helluva lot more than that. I’m thinking of something pink.”
“That’s the drink talkin’, Sheriff, not you. You need to think about Luby, and how this sort of talk would make her feel if she heard it.”
“I was there that night you walked out on the football field to accept your award. Homecoming Queen.” He sighs. “Most beautiful girl in five counties. Watching you grow up, seein’ you make one bad decision after the other. I always showed you respect. But the way you treated me last night? I figured if half the town was getting in your pants, the Sheriff might as well get in there, too.”
“First of all, you can count on one hand the men who’ve been in my pants, and when you do, you’ll have four fingers left over. Whatever else you’ve heard is lies and speculation. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, but Darrell’s the only man I’ve been with in that way.”
“Well, that’s about to change,” he says.
He pauses a few seconds, then bolts out of the chair and comes straight at me.
57
I think about makin’ a run for it, but there’s no way I can get to the back door and unlock it before he can catch me. Instead, I grab a glass bookend from the book shelf.
“Good luck with that,” he says.
He’s quick and agile for bein’ forty, but I’ve got plenty of experience dealin’ with my own drunken addict, who enjoyed comin’ at me when I denied him sex. I’ve got a clear shot, but that’s the sucker move.
The one he’s expectin’.
So I wind up, and fake a throw, knowin’ he’ll instinctively duck and cover up, just like Darrell.
He does.
When he looks back up, I hurl it into his forehead, and he goes down. I jump over his body, open the front door, and see somethin’ that surprises me.
Cletus Renfro’s car.
He must�
��ve taken it from the impoundment lot. Didn’t want anyone to see his sheriff’s car parked in my driveway.
I could easily outrun him, but not the car. I make the quick decision to get inside the car and hope the keys are in the ignition. I hear a noise behind me and turn to see Sheriff Boyle comin’ out the door. He’s hurt bad, and blood is literally squirtin’ from the angry cut in his head. I run to the car, jump in the driver’s seat, and lock the door. Unfortunately, all the windows are rolled down, and there’s no time to roll them up. I look on the column to see if the keys are there, but they’re not. I feel around on the floor board, but again, no keys.
I raise up, grab the packets from my back pocket, and wait for him to come into view on the driver’s side. I can’t throw both packets with accuracy, so I place one on the floorboard and scoot across the seat to give myself some room. When he stands at the driver’s side he’ll try to open the door, realize it’s locked, and his focus will be on reachin’ in and unlockin’ the door. I’ll hit him in the chest and scramble out the passenger door while shuttin’ my eyes and holdin’ my breath. Maybe I’ll get lucky.
So that’s the plan.
But it doesn’t work.
When Sheriff Boyd gets to the door, he sees me windin’ up, and when I hurl the packet, he somehow manages to duck out of the way.
It’s dark, and I don’t see the packet after it whizzes past him, but I know it’s gonna land too far away to have any effect on him.
Now I’m tryin’ to reach the packet I placed on the floor, but the Sheriff is all over me, grabbin’ my legs, pullin’ me toward him. He climbs half into the car to get to me, and lands a punch on my sore cheek that makes me so groggy and weak I can’t do nothin’ but be slid out the car.
I’m lyin’ on the ground, and the only light I see is comin’ from inside the car, where I see my second packet of powder has been crushed. Sheriff Boyd must have stepped on it while pullin’ me out.
So I’m nine-tenths knocked out, I’ve got no weapons left, and I hear him openin’ the trunk. I try to scream, but the sound that comes out of my throat is more like a scared, whimpering hiss.
Sheriff Boyd picks me up like a sack of flour, puts me over his shoulder, and dumps me into the trunk.
