‘You okay Shoog?’ Paris said from behind me, sliding into view.
‘I checked up on you,’ Red said. ‘Happen to know the manager. Hell, I know just about everyone local. He said as how there were a coloured gentleman and a white girl staying there, said as how they’d had something of a fight. He’d gotten complaints.’
‘You let him look you up,’ Paris had said. ‘You let him prove to himself some part of your story, then he starts believin’ the rest of it. You only need the one lie, the rest is all truth; that way the lie got a better chance of stayin’ hid.’
‘And there you were, Margarita.’ Red tasted the word as he said it, as he whispered it. ‘My Daddy’s a man of old-fashioned tastes. He needs to let off a little steam from time to time, but he’s got …’ he smiled ‘… traditional ideas, when it comes to a sweet little thing like you, with a big old nigger like Paris.’ He relished the filthy word.
‘Don’t you call him that, you redneck son-of-a-bitch!’
‘Have I offended your liberal sensibilities?’ Red taunted. ‘Oh hell, I know what I mean by it. You got coloured folks what go to church, black men who go to war and you got niggers what go to jail, and Paris walked in that night like a nigger with attitude on his arm.’
In the room in the Pelican Inn, Paris had brushed the side of my face with his finger. ‘I gotta say somethin’. You know what we’re doin’ tonight, I’m gonna have to say shit I don’t wanna, both to you and about you, and I ain’t happy ‘bout that. But if I tell you what I’m gonna say or do, you won’t react right – so I ain’t gonna tell you, but I am gonna say I’m sorry – understand? Only way you’re gonna pull this off, only way you can do it, is forget who you is and what you are. If you don’t live your lie, no one else gonna be fooled, an’ you gonna get hurt.’
‘Staking you in a poker game,’ Red said. ‘I guess that really appealed to the old man, what with you twining yourself about so … invitingly. Your face, when old Paris said I could have you as part of the deal, just so I’d play one more hand, now that was a picture.’
‘You like that candy-ass bitch? She yours.’
‘What the fuck?’
‘Shut yo’ mouth. I’m sick of you an’ yo’ mouth. You shut the fuck up an’ do as I ask. You goin’ suck cock if I want and you goin’ fuckin’ like it, or you ain’t gettin’ no more hits outta me.’ Paris slapped me across the face. I knew he held back, but it stung me just like he said it would, just like its memory stung me again. ‘Sure an’ she’s yours, for the weekend or whatever – you do what the fuck you like with her, I ain’t bothered. I pretty much broke her, anyways.’
The room in the abandoned house was still, its cool air tainted with swamp water rising from the floor. It was the dead time, the hours before dawn and after midnight, when all good things were asleep. But not us, Red and I, we were awake. We were not good things.
‘Course he won.’ The light from the lamp glinted off Red’s teeth and the wetness of his eyes. ‘He started laughing and laughing and pullin’ that money into his bag. You know what, my Daddy even started to ask if you were gonna be all right.’ Red smiled. ‘He was concerned for you, till you shot Paris.’
‘Crazy bitch … what you doin’ now? You gonna shoot me?’
‘I shot him,’ I said, and the memory made me smile: my hand, holding a gun, with the snub end lengthened by a silencer. That’s what I’d remembered in the shower, my hand holding the gun and Paris playing his part.
‘Then I gave you the bag,’ I said, excited now, thrilled, as the memory took shape, unaided by his words. I saw him, Red Rooster and his Daddy, saw the look of horror on their faces as Paris crashed into the corner of the room, fake blood spraying up the wall, fake blood pooling out of his body. My hand holding the gun that I’d fired, even as I cried like a child. Then I’d thrown the bag at them and started screaming, yelling.
‘Get out, just get out and leave me alone! Take your money and get out!’ And they’d run, because no would-be senator cares to be found in the back room of a bar with a crazy hooker and her dead pimp.
‘You ran,’ I said, laughing afresh at the victory of the moment.
‘You bet your sweet ass we ran. Hell, Daddy likes to dip his toe in some dark water, but that … that shit ain’t never gonna wash clean.’
‘When did you guess?’ I asked, leaning back against the couch, still glowing with the renewed knowledge that we’d pulled it off.
‘Didn’t take long.’ Red was smiling too, almost as if he shared in my victory. ‘Daddy started flappin’ his jaw ‘bout helping you, ‘bout goin’ back – I said as how he was crazy, and he said as how they were gonna find our DNA all over the place. Hell, he was even gonna call his lawyer.’
That night came back to me with Red’s words, like the blood on the wall. I saw Paris in the Pelican’s pink, dusty bathroom by the basin, a plastic mixing bowl inside, into which he poured a gilded ripple of syrup. I’d dipped in my finger and it came out red.
In the shack Red exhaled, still smiling at me. ‘Daddy was on the point of dialling the number. I said to him to leave it, that we’d got the money. I ripped open the bag and guess what? Whole lotta whorehouse calling cards.’ He grinned. ‘Nice touch.’
Paris had smiled as I’d licked my sugar bloodied finger.
‘This way, this way we get the time we need. You got one chance to make the switch when they’re lookin’ at all this red syrup on the walls. Then they’ll run. They just need to think I’m dead long enough for us to get out. A minute’s all we need, two’s even better. If they come back in, we’s already gone. Here, I’ll show you how to fill the blood pack right, so as it goes off with a bang.’
As soon as the door closed, Paris was up. He turned the table over against the door, just in case, while I dragged two chairs under the air vent in the ceiling. Inside the crawl space he retrieved the cases he’d hidden there earlier, and we changed. Barely thirty seconds gone.
Seventy-five seconds, and we were in the vent, crawling to the outside. Paris kicked the outside grille to loosen it, then pulled it up inside beside us. The car we’d bought was underneath, it was cheap and it was nasty but we were going to dump it as soon as we were down the road. Paris jumped onto the roof, and reached out for me.
‘Shit!’ I’d exclaimed, patting my pockets as I landed next to him.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘My passport, it ain’t here!’
‘What da’ fuck?’
‘Oh shit baby, I’m so sorry, I left it in the room at the motel.’
‘Jesus Christ, what the hell we do now?’
‘We gotta go back, they don’t know we ain’t coming back tonight; we ain’t checked out yet.’
‘Quickly,’ he said, hitting the sidewalk and wrenching the car door open. ‘We ain’t got much time, first place he’s gonna look.’
I knew we didn’t have much time. I was banking on it.
‘Paris always said how some men you could con because underneath they wanted you to,’ I said to Red. ‘Seems like you’re one of them.’
Red shrugged. ‘Maybe you’ right, darlin’. Sitting on my thumbs this past year, with nothin’ much to entertain myself since I left the army, I gotta say, it was fun trackin’ you down. Daddy charged me with finding you, discreet like, not to make a fuss. He weren’t about to go to the police, but he weren’t gonna let you get away with that, pretty. He don’t like getting’ made a fool of, and neither do I.’ He rolled his shoulders, moving his hands behind his back.
‘I guess not,’ I said, still smiling at the audacity of it. ‘Not gonna want to be connected to a dead pimp and his ho’, not gonna want to admit how we got his campaign funds either.’
‘I kind of enjoyed the challenge, my special ops training been going beggin’ awhile. You never knew I was there.’ I smiled, because he was wrong. I’d known he was there, I knew what he’d do. ‘I suppose you and he had something in the nature of a falling out?’ Red shifted in his seat again. ‘T
hey say there’s no honour among thieves, suppose that’s to be expected. Decided you’d had enough of him did you?’ He cocked his head to the left. ‘Took some of his words to heart?’
‘No,’ I said, though Red was right, of course. But not about the words.
I’d made sure the motel clerk noticed me and my blond locks when I got my passport. I stopped and asked him where a good place for second-hand cars was, said we’d had a win on the slots, and we were gonna party and get ourselves a new ride. I’d pointed to the lemon out front – ‘We ain’t gonna be driving that old heap no more!’ – and I’d winked at him.
Paris had pulled off the freeway, to where we’d left the new car, all without knowing I’d been advertising it. We had enough to buy it before the big con, and I’d let him choose, which felt like folding some money into his pocket and telling him to ‘go get yourself something nice.’ I figured we needed some sleep, and I figured the best way of both shutting him up, and making sure he did, was a little sex, applied liberally in the back seat. He hadn’t seemed to mind, had pulled me onto his lap and kissed me.
‘You takin’ that thing off?’ he asked of the wig, still in its blond bunches.
‘Not till we’re three states away, just to be sure.’
‘Leastways he’s pretty,’ Margarita said, ‘not like that makes it any less of a sin, though.’
The sex had worked, I’d thought, both to give him the impression that we were still in this thing together and help us catch a few hours’ sleep. Trouble was it had worked a little too well. I woke up when I felt the car moving, jerking myself up as it slipped into gear. Blinking, cotton-mouthed and disconcerted, I saw Paris was driving, and was at once flooded with panic. I’d planned our escape route through the reserve and sold it to Paris on the grounds that nobody ever went that way, unless they’d plenty of time to kill, so it was the last direction Red would have considered. Of course, I’d also meant to leave enough clues to ensure that was exactly the way he would go; only all along, I’d meant to wake first, and I’d meant to be driving. I looked at my phone. There were eleven minutes to go before the alarm I’d set was scheduled to wake me.
‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ Paris said, glancing back over his shoulder. ‘Why don’t you close your eyes for a bit? I’m cool.’
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘guess I might as well,’ not sure what to do next. Paris smiled at me, like he was my older brother, like he was taking care of us. It was over, I thought, and he was all ready for us to run away together. He was looking after me, with no idea what I’d planned to do next.
Red flexed his shoulders, cocked his head to one side. He was enjoying this, telling me how dumb I’d been, how easy to follow. ‘The clerk at your motel mentioned how you’d asked him all about the way through the reserve. Said it surprised him, as the two of you didn’t look much like the country type, not seein’ as you said you were set on buying a new sports car. Careless of you to leave that old wreck you were driving in full view when you swapped them.’
Careless, I thought, and I smiled. Little old Red, following the trail I’d left for him. Proving to himself the lie I’d told him.
‘The old fellow at the gas station, said as how a mixed couple in a nice, bright red car had been there few hours before. He remembered you, darlin’, but then I guess who wouldn’t? Nice white girl, black man making her get the gas. Said he made some observation ‘bout him not being a gentleman; said you agreed with him.’
A dry road in a wet place, I thought, lined with malformed hangman’s trees. We’d needed gas, like I knew we would, and that there was only the one gas station. But I’d meant to be driving by then, so I could have left Paris behind, caused a scene, made sure Red knew where I was headed. We passed the first sign, then the second – last chance for gas this side of the wilderness. I’d half been pretending to be asleep, figuring that if I was, Paris would have to get out to pump and pay, and I could slip into the driver’s seat and get away. The needle was hovering just above empty when I risked a glance. Seconds later, Paris began talking.
He was on his cell, had it cradled under his chin as he began to slow for the turning. I hadn’t heard it ring, but I hear him answer, heard him say, ‘Hey there, how’s you?’ My guess was his mother, so I pretended he’d woken me and sat up. When he saw me looking, he pulled the kind of face you do when it’s your mother, and she’s not going to take the hint about ringing off.
‘Naw, look, I think I’m gonna be headed out of state, soon,’ and then he paused, listening, as if the other person on the line was doing a lot of talking. ‘I’m not sure,’ he managed, then, ‘hard to say, y’know?’
He pulled up by the pump and turned off the engine. Nodding, hand over the cell, he mouthed at me, ‘Get the gas, Shoog?’ and when I scowled, added, ‘Coffee, two sugars?’ with a grin. ‘Sure, Momma,’ he said to the phone, ‘I hear you.’
Tied to the chair in the shack, Red rolled his arms, rubbing his cheek on his shoulder.
‘Like I said, my truck was not happy. Should have stayed at the gas station, but I pressed on and she died on me.’
I closed my eyes for a moment. ‘You stopped here.’
‘Found the key out back, pushed the truck round the side.’
‘And I just walked through the door.’ The appalling symmetry almost made me laugh. I’d meant Red to find this place, but instead, the place had found him. ‘Shit, I knew I knew you – why didn’t you say something?’
Red shrugged. ‘First, I thought you was just messin’ with me, and you were the one with the gun. Then I saw as how you’d been shot, an’ I figured you weren’t going nowhere fast.’ He shifted position and coughed a little. ‘It amused me, seein’ what you were about. I was having a whale of a time. Hell, didn’t you enjoy the little performance I put on just for you?’
‘The bathroom window … that was you?’
Red grinned. ‘Sure was. My truck’s pretty much fixed. I just been cleaning things to look busy.’
‘So what you been doing?’ I asked, my grifter curiosity wetted despite everything.
‘Playin’ with my shotgun,’ he said and when he saw my expression added, ‘You really are from back east. You think I weren’t armed?’
‘But you were inside,’ I said. ‘I saw you?’
‘Smoke and mirrors, darlin’.’ He was enjoying this far too much. ‘Opened up the shell cases and laid a little gunpowder trail. Told you, I learned all kind of amusement in the army. Powder fuse to a heap of gunpowder and rocks, light the end and run. I shot out the window and the truck after it were lit, then ran inside. Gave myself a moment to shut the door and bang, bang, fourth of July!’
‘Why the hell did you bother?’
Red looked hurt. ‘Come on, you think you’d have stayed in here with me so long if you hadn’t thought there was something worse outside? Oh, I had a whole other story ready just to see what you’d do, ‘bout how there were some boys on my trail after Iraq and everything, but you didn’t seem to need it. Maybe you were having as good a time I was, after all?
‘Fuck you,’ I muttered.
‘Be my guest,’ he said. He was having a good a time, despite the handcuffs. I’d had enough of him thinking he was clever. I raised the gun and aimed it at his left foot again. His face fell.
‘The other day, yesterday,’ I said, focusing on him. ‘You found him, didn’t you?’
‘Who?’
I raised the gun higher. ‘You found Paris …’
He looked down the barrel and did not flinch. ‘Why you care, seeing as how he shot you?’ The memory of pain, hot and white, lanced through my side. ‘You’re right though,’ he said with a sigh, as if he were suddenly weary of pretending. ‘I found your car. Nasty business, the driver side was caved right in. Seems he hit a boulder on the roadside. I’d say he was trapped, seein’ as he never followed you, or my money.’
‘All this time, you been playin’ me?’
What had I done? Given in and told him? Tried to make him stop, know
ing that we were getting closer and closer to the shack, and that if he drove past it, all of this would be for nothing?
‘No, it weren’t like that!’
Paris hit the steering wheel. ‘Goddamn it, you said you loved me, you forced me to say it …’ I think I’d begged him to understand, just to leave me and go, but he hadn’t.
‘Look, we got to pull over, just up ahead, there – can you see it?’ Why hadn’t he?
‘No way. You think I’m gonna let you kill him, you think I wanna get mixed up in murder?’ He was looking out for me, I thought, because he still wanted the dream I’d sold him – me, him, fast car, trunk load of money – he believed me, and he was angry.
‘There, that’s it, pull over; pull over for fuck’s sake!’
‘No way, you crazy bitch, you ain’t doing this.’ He’d floored it, pushed the car and the road faster than he should have.
‘Turn this car round, now!’ I demanded, pleaded.
‘No, you liar, I don’t gotta do nothing you say no more!’ Then he’d slowed, and I’d thought he might have been going to relent, but I’d been wrong. He carried on, not looking at me, taking me further and further away from everything I’d prepared.
‘Keep the car, keep the fuckin’ money, alright? You gotta let me do this, I come all this way, I come so far – turn round, please – I gotta get to that house!’
‘Get off of my wheel, you …’
I heard the tick-tick of the engine in the calm after the crash. I’d torn open the door, grabbed the bag and ran, moving as if the world were molasses.
‘Come back – I’ll shoot – I’ll fuckin’ shoot you!’
He had the gun in his hand, jabbing it through the window at me as I ran. I imagined him scrabbling in the glovebox for it, and me thinking he’d never do it, all while thinking how much he must hate me, how much he didn’t understand.
Then white pain, the world turning over and over as I’d gone down. My head had impacted on something hard, hard enough to crack the sky in two, bringing dark, my own, personal night.
Nemesister: The gripping women's psychological thriller from Sophie Jonas-Hill Page 18
