“Sorry, Evie. Or should I call you Dr. Maddox? What’re you—uh—are you looking for Mr. Vinetti? I mean, Gary.” Smooth. Really smooth.
“Actually, I wanted to say hi. And congratulations. Gary just told me he’d offered you the job.” She smiles at me, and I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “Evie is fine, by the way.”
“Well, Evie, I owe you big time.” I run a nervous hand along the front of my uniform, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. “But I’ve gotta say, it feels a little weird to have a real job. In the real world. Not that prison isn’t the real world. It’s as real as it gets, but…” Shut up already. “I guess I’m just starting to feel human again. Sane. Or at least I think so. I guess you’d be the one to ask.” Seriously, Calder. Stop talking. “I’m gonna stop talking now.”
She laughs again, but not at me. Her eyes are too kind for that. “Were you always this talkative?”
“Definitely not. Come to think of it, I might’ve just broken my own record for the most words I’ve strung together at one time. Maybe it’s a shrink thing.” Or an Evie thing, I think to myself, remembering the second time I saw her. Way back when. Caught in Trey’s clutches in the parking lot of the Blue Bird. “I better get to work before I start spilling all my secrets. Gary’s got me checking the lights…with what happened the other day.”
“Good idea. I’ve been complaining about the broken street lamps for years.” But her thoughts are somewhere else. I can tell by that faraway look she’s got. It’s the look of a lifer like me. The look of somebody tethered to the past. The kind of rope that chokes every move you make. “I assume you’ve seen the news.”
At first, I’m not sure how to answer, but her hard swallow gives it away. And I don’t hold back. “I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but I sort of hoped that guy was dead. I mean, I’ve met a lot of lowlifes in my day. But Trey Waters was probably the lowest. The way he bullied you—”
“Not here,” she says, backing away so fast you’d think I took a swing at her. “I can’t talk about it here. Not now.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” I raise my hands in surrender. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” She puts her palm on my forearm—for a moment—and I don’t pull away like I’ve been bitten by a snake, not the way I did with Chicken and Waffles’ Brenda. “I should probably head over to my office. Group starts in a few minutes, and I can’t be late.”
“Sure. I’ve gotta go too. Last thing I need is Gary catching me slacking on my first day.”
I wait until she’s gone. I watch her raven hair disappear around the corner before I look at my arm. The spot where she touched me. Then and now. Touch has a memory, I think. Because even though her hands are different, a woman’s hands, the intention is the same. Like she’s giving me the sort of comfort I need but sure as hell don’t deserve. And it feels like absolution.
Butch
May 2, 1994
Eleven days before I killed her
Turns out, drunk girls are not easy. Drunk girls—Gwen, anyway—are just drunk. And they puke. A lot. After we’d downed most of the Hennessy she’d swiped from the mini mart, she upchucked twice in the bushes and fell asleep in the front seat of the ’Cuda before I drove her home. I’d parked outside the gate and watched her stumble inside the back door of the Shaw family mansion. Then, I’d hightailed it outta there, expecting her dad to come storming out with a shotgun, but the house stayed dark, and I’d lived to fight another day.
By the time I got back home, it was after midnight. I parked the car, straddling the two spots facing my room, taking no chances with my baby. A blind man could park better than most guests at the Blue Bird, and the last thing I needed was a door ding. When I went inside, the phone’s red message light blinked at me like an accusation, and I knew what it meant. Simon Merriwether: Coffin-chaser, shyster, attorney-at-law. Since I’d dropped most of the blood money on the ’Cuda, he’d been hounding me.
I kept the phone a good six inches from my ear—that guy’s voice was nails on a chalkboard—but I could still hear him droning. Irresponsible, foolish, impulsive. Me apparently, in a nutshell. Couldn’t argue with him there. I hung up, my buzz long gone, and flipped on the TV to drown out Wade and Peggy going at it like cats and dogs. Right on schedule.
“I saw you starin’ at him, Peg. Don’t try to deny it.”
“I wasn’t. I promise, babe. I’ve only got eyes for and you know it.”
“Are you callin’ me a liar?” Without two pennies to rub together—and the motel rooms were sparse—Wade always found something to throw. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, I guess. Whatever it was, clock radio, ice bucket, leather Bible, or Peggy herself, thudded against the wall.
I cranked up VH1 and closed my eyes. Drunk girls talk a lot too. And Gwen had spilled a secret I kept replaying. A secret louder than Wade and Peggy. It ached in my stomach, pounded in my ears. “I need to tell you something, Calderrrrrr,” she’d said, slurring the end of my name into a sexy growl. “I did something really bad. I’m a bad girl.” She’d put her head in my lap, post-vomit. Pathetic, but I still got turned on.
“I doubt that, Gwen. What did you do?”
“I’m not a volunteer at that kids’ home. I have to be there. Cause the judge said so.”
“The judge?”
She’d sighed. “Yeah. I’m a common criminal. I stole some stuff from the drug store. And Russ says I’m a klepto. His parents hate me. They think I’m a bad influence.”
“Who’s Russ?” I’d asked.
She’d gazed up at me with those baby blues, and I’d had to steel myself. “I lied to you, Calder. Are you mad?” How could I be? I had no right. And yet, there I was, a hypocrite hiding sparks of hellfire in my chest. Because if I’d been caught shoplifting—which I had, of course—they’d have carted my ass off to juvie and left me there for a while. Because Butch Calder never met a judge who knew the words community service. Because I only stole things when I was poor, things I needed. Because—who the hell was Russ?
“Who’s Russ?” I’d asked again.
“A doofus. A big, ugly doofus.” Her eyes had glistened when she’d said it. Like she’d been about to cry. “I think I’m gonna be sick again.”
The slam of a door brought me back to the Blue Bird. Wade, probably. Gone off to drown his sorrows in the bar down the street. He’d sulk back in a few hours, sleep it off in his truck, and wait for Peggy to wake up so they could start all over again. Sure enough, I could hear her wailing through the wall. Just another day on the crazy train.
I propped two flat-as-a-pancake pillows behind me and leaned back against the headboard, trying to think of one good thing. It was a game my mom played with me when I’d had a rough day at school. And then, it was a game I played with myself, mostly in juvie, when the best things I could come up with were pizza in the chow hall and my counselor’s boobs busting out of her too-tight uniform.
One purely good thing. One. Just one.
Gwen was a good thing. But also not, because I wasn’t Butch Calder of the Filthy-Rich Calders like she thought. And mostly, because of Russ—whoever he was. With an uppity name like that, he must be loaded. I already hated him.
The ’Cuda was definitely a good thing. But also not, because Merriwether wasn’t wrong. I’d pissed away half the money that my family died for. Even though I did look damn good in it.
The Blue Bird was a good thing, a roof over my head, but also not. Peggy punctuated that one with a sob, desperate and whiny and—
Cut mercifully short by a sharp rap at her door. At least it sounded like her door. But it couldn’t be. Wade was too stubborn to come crawling back that soon. I muted the TV and pressed my head to the wall.
The knocking came again, louder this time. “Hello? Is anybody home?” A girl’s voice. Definitely not Wade
. “Please open up. I need help.”
Peggy didn’t answer. She was as quiet as I’d ever heard her. I hopped off the bed and put one eye to the peephole. Holy crap! I jumped back. Stunned. I thought I might be dreaming. Or worse, hallucinating. Maybe this was what happened when you drank way too much cognac. Stolen cognac, at that.
But then, I looked again, and I knew I wasn’t dreaming. From this angle, I couldn’t see Wade and Peggy’s door, but it didn’t matter. He was real and lounging against the hood of my ’Cuda like he owned it.
All these years later, I can feel the cool knob in my hand as I opened the door. And I still wish I hadn’t.
****
“Well, hell, if it ain’t Nobody. You live here, man?” Trey flicked the ashes of his cigarette, and they tumbled like dirty snow onto the hood of my car. I gritted my teeth. “Figures Nobody would live in a dump like this. Ain’t that right, Evelyn?”
If Evie was surprised to see me, she didn’t show it. She just stood there, eyes darting between me and Trey and Peggy’s unopened door. Looking like somebody about to make a run for it.
“Get off my car, Trey.”
“Trey? You think you know me? Funny, I don’t remember ever tellin’ you my name. Or givin’ you permission to use it.” He stalked toward Evie and grabbed her wrist, circling it like a noose with his long fingers. “You didn’t tell Nobody my name did you?” She shook her head and tried to pull away, but he just squeezed tighter. “Good. Cause that would’ve been real stupid. Even for you.”
“Listen, man, I don’t want any trouble. Wade and Peggy aren’t home right now, so you should probably scram before the front desk clerk calls the police.”
He let Evie go and pushed her away from him. Then he took one step and another toward me till I could smell him—nicotine and sweat and pure meanness. “Thanks for the advice, Nobody. But I don’t give a fuck about Wade or Peggy or the goddamn clerk. Something that belongs to me is in that room, and I need it back real bad.”
“What does she have to do with it?” I nodded my head at Evie. “Doesn’t she have school tomorrow?”
“Today actually,” she said. The corner of her mouth twisted into a smirk so faint if you blinked you might miss it. “It’s one in the morning.”
Trey flinched in her direction, and she sucked in a breath, silenced without a word. Then, “Damn, Nobody. You’re a regular boy scout, ain’t ya?”
“She’s a kid, dude.”
“What’s it to you anyway? You got a thing for kiddies? I can help you out, you know. She’s got a little friend, Cassie, I can hook you up with. Or maybe Evie here will give it up for free if you ask real nice.” Her ears went beet red, the color spreading like fire across her cheeks. “Seems like she’s taken a real likin’ to you.”
“You’re sick.”
Trey shrugged like I’d offered him a compliment. “I like to think of myself as a businessman.”
“You mean a pimp?”
“More like a salesman. I can sell you whatever you want if the price is right. Or we can settle this the hard way.” He held up the edge of his T-shirt, showing me the knife case in his pocket. “And I seem to recall you already used your free pass.”
“How much to leave her alone?”
Trey guffawed, slapping his knees so hard I thought his skinny legs might snap in two. And Evie, she just shook her head at me—fast—like I’d made a deal with the devil.
“It’s okay, Calder,” she said. “I’m okay. Just go back in your room.”
“Evelyn, Evelyn, Evelyn. It seems you’ve made quite the impression on Nobody. Or Calder, is it? I’ll leave her alone, buddy. For the keys to this.” He ran his stained fingernails across the side of the ’Cuda.
Me and my freakin’ big mouth. How’re you gonna talk your way out of this one, Butch? “That thing. It’s not mine. I mean, I wish it was. But I was just bluffing. I can give you cash though.”
“You can have my ride, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I grimaced at the purple Buick Grand National idling in the spot next to mine. An eggplant on wheels, he’d probably spent his last nickel on that custom paint job.
“No offense, but your car is a hooptie.”
Evie giggled, and Trey didn’t like it. I heard him hiss something at her under his breath. He reached in his pocket, pulled out the knife, and opened it. “Better yet, how ’bout you give me the keys and the cash, and I keep Evie? You see, she took something from me, and that ain’t right. Kids these days, ya know? No manners.”
“I told you. It’s not my car.”
“Well, then I guess you won’t care if I do this.” He poised the tip of the blade on the driver’s side door, and I felt dizzy. The Hennessy burned my throat on its way back up.
“Don’t do that, man. Please.”
Evie reached for his arm, but he batted it away. “Stop, Trey. You’re being a jerk.”
He grinned as he dragged the knife, slicing an inch-long wound on the door of my baby. I died a little inside, half-expecting her to bleed red from the gash on her smooth black paint.
“Here,” I said, scrambling through my wallet to produce a wad of cash. “Take this.” The money disappeared inside his bony fist, but he kept his blade on the ’Cuda. And I saw how it would go from here. I’d rush him like a pissed-off rhino, taking his legs out from under him, but somehow he’d get the upper hand—Trey didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who took his licks lying down—and once he did, it would be lights out. Game over. A knife to the gut. He’d sooner stab his own mother than lose a fight. But I couldn’t punk out now. I already looked soft, coughing up my money like that, begging him. “Touch my car again, and I’ll make you wish you were never born.”
“I’ll touch whatever I damn well please. And I’d like to see you try.”
We squared off. I hope my life doesn’t end like this, shanked in the Blue Bird parking lot by this lowlife. That was all I could think, when the door to Wade and Peggy’s flew open. Peggy stood in the threshold in her nightgown—a modern-day Annie Oakley—pointing a pistol right at Trey’s chest. “Get the hell out of here, Waters! Don’t make me use this thing.”
“C’mon, Peg. I thought we were friends.”
“Ha! I’d sooner be friends with a crocodile. Now I told you last time to stop coming around here making trouble for these young girls. You’re not welcome. Haven’t you put Evelyn through enough?”
Trey grabbed at Evie, pulling her under his arm, the knife blade dangerously close to her cheek. “This girl. This girl. You know I practically raised her. Took care of her and her mama. And she said her mama might’ve hidden somethin’ of mine in there. You remember how sneaky Arlene could be. Didn’t she steal somethin’ of yours one time? Just let us take a look. A quick one. Then we’ll get outta here and leave you fine folks to your—”
Trey never saw it coming. Wade clocked him from behind with a half-full bottle of cheap wine, and he hit the deck hard, Boone’s Farm and blood running down his forehead. The knife skittered on the pavement and underneath his Buick. “That’ll teach you to run your mouth to my old lady.”
“You tell him, honey.” Peggy’s chest puffed up, proud as a peacock, and she winked at him. Wade was definitely getting laid tonight. So that made one of us.
Trey groaned and rolled to one side, clutching at his head. His fist opened like a flower. “I think that belongs to you,” Peggy said, pointing at the cash on the concrete.
Old Butch would’ve let it go—just watched Trey slink away with my blood money, knowing that I’d won—but Young Butch had already lost so much. He had to make somebody pay. So I loomed over him and snatched up my money. Pressed my boot to his hand. Stomped down with all my might till I felt his bones crack like eggshells. Till he writhed and squealed like a stuck pig.
I’m embarrassed to tell you how good it felt. Better than kissing Gwen. Better than walki
ng out of juvie. Better, even, than flying down the highway in the ’Cuda. How it warmed something cold inside me. How once I started, I didn’t want to stop. How I probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t spotted Evie and her watchful green eyes.
Still, I had to get the last word. “I would’ve given you a free pass, Trey. But then I remembered you’re a scumbag loser. Now get the hell out of here.”
Trey crawled back to the Buick and fished underneath till he found his knife. He cradled it in one hand, the other limp as a dead fish. “Get in, Evelyn.”
“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Peggy said. “And if I catch you at my door again, I’ll shoot first. Got it?”
After Trey backed out, tires crunching over the broken glass, he rolled down his window and pointed to me with his good hand. “You’re dead, Nobody. Next time I see you, you’re dead.” And in a way, he was right.
****
Evie rubbed her goosebumps and shivered. “Are you sure you want the top down?” I asked. “It’s gonna be a while before I get you back to Port in a Storm.”
“I told you. I’ve never been inside a convertible. It’s like flying, Calder.”
I laughed for the first time since I’d watched Trey burn rubber in the Blue Bird parking lot, giving us the bird before he’d made the turn to the street. “He should be happy he can still move his finger,” Evie had said, and I’d chuckled along with Wade and Peggy, trying to shake off Trey’s threat. “You’re dead.” No one ever said those words to me before. Not even the baddest badass in juvie.
“I guess it is like flying. I hadn’t thought of it that way. Maybe that’s why I like it.” I sped up a little and did my best Frank Sinatra. “Come fly with me. Come fly away.” And Evie shrieked with delight. I turned my eyes from the road to watch her for a second, wishing I could feel that free. “Is Trey your stepdad or something?”
Doctors of Darkness Boxed Set Page 44
