Last Exit Page 4

  “How’d you know?” I glanced at Hannah.

  “You know I don’t sleep well. I saw the two of you loading up the truck, then leaving. When only one of you came back…” She shrugged. There wasn’t any need to say more.

  I drank the coffee she’d brought and munched on doughnuts. Hannah had bought the custard filled ones.

  Tanner’s voice kept echoing in my head, “Call me if you need me. I’m coming back.” But he wasn’t coming back, and he didn’t want me to call him.

  “What happened?” Hannah made a pained face.

  “I don’t know.” I told her about the visit with Dave and Neecie.

  Hannah rolled her eyes at my description. “Oh dear. Hipsters?”

  Not completely sure what the term meant, I described what I’d seen, especially Neecie’s puzzling worn out clothes but their obvious wealth.

  Hannah pealed laughter at that. “That one outfit probably cost more than every garment you’ve got put together.”

  I shrugged, still puzzled over the weird outfit. “Hipsters or not hipsters, they had a business offer for Tanner. And he knew they were going to present it. Never said a word to me. What’s more, they didn’t seem to know about me at all.”

  Hannah nodded slowly. “I guess I’m not all that surprised.”

  I put down my coffee and glared at her across the table. What the hell did she mean by that?

  She bit into another cream-filled doughnut. “For what it’s worth, I also wasn’t surprised Leon Blackfox had a wife in South Dakota.” She sipped her coffee. “We get back what we put out.”

  Oh, goodie. Self-help gems from Hannah. Just what I needed.

  She put down her doughnut. “Hear me out before you start rolling your eyes.”

  “I didn’t roll my eyes.” I ate my doughnut with feigned calmness.

  “But you wanted to.” Hannah raised her eyebrows and settled her gaze on me. It made her look about a decade older and ten times tougher.

  “All right, I’m listening.” I said with as much open-mindedness as I could fake.

  “I met Leon when I didn’t want to trust any man. He saw that vulnerability and put on a big show of being this protector of women.” Her lip quirked down on one side. “But in the end, he was just hanging out with a broken woman while his wife took care of their kids in South Dakota.”

  “He has kids too?” I curled my lip.

  “Of course. The wife called me. Told me the whole story.” Hannah stared at me across the table, letting the horror of it sink in.

  We sat quietly for several seconds. Then she burst out laughing. I did too. We laughed until my ribs hurt, and Hannah’s face was so red I worried she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Hannah stopped laughing first. Picked up her custard-filled doughnut and took a big bite. She smacked while she ate it and swallowed it with gusto.

  “That phone call flipped on a light bulb for me. I survived Michael Gage…” She trailed off, eyes moving back and forth, maybe searching for words to describe what happened to her. She snapped out of it and settled brimming eyes on me. “I survived that. Now I have this-this second chance. It’s either make the most of it or waste it slouching around like something pitiful.”

  Her words hit me hard. I’d survived things too. Nothing so terrible as what Hannah went through with Michael Gage. But I had survived. Losing Tanner was small in life’s grand design.

  But just thinking his name unleashed a tide of hurt. His laugh. The rough purr of his voice, telling me the stories of his life. All the hours we spent riding in my truck. It had seemed so good. Until he left. Hannah picked up another doughnut, contemplated it, and set it back in the box. She studied me.

  “You’re thinking about Tanner now, wondering what happened.” She didn’t phrase it as a question, so I didn’t bother to answer. “Want me to tell you?”

  I thought about it. Did I want Hannah giving me the self-help digest version of what was wrong with my personality? Honestly? No. I opened my mouth to tell her.

  But she rushed to speak before I could. “You don’t love yourself. You’ve come a long way since we started being friends again, but you don’t love yourself.”

  I held out one hand. “Check, please. You’re a shitty shrink.”

  She slapped it away. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m telling you the truth.”

  We faced off across the table. A couple of years ago, when Hannah first came back into my life, I could stare her down. Not now. She carried her share of bad miles.

  “Loving a woman who doesn’t love herself is a tall order for any man. It’s a lot of pressure.” She leaned back in her seat and waited.

  “Bullshit. I never ask anything of Tanner.” I leaned back in my seat, ready to battle.

  “Oh? What about when you went to get Mohawk’s book?” She watched me, something in her caramel eyes I didn’t quite recognize.

  “I left his ass here so he wouldn’t get hurt.” My voice had hardened. I still felt ashamed for the way I had treated Tanner.

  “You left him because you wanted to die alone if that’s how things went.” She pointed one finger at me, pinning me to my seat. “Then he had to come chasing after you to make sure you fought Mohawk and won. Like I said, it’s a lot of pressure.”

  Face heating, I put my elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Pressure? Give me a break.”

  She mimicked my posture. “It’s pressure because his job as your lover is chasing you around, making sure you don’t destroy yourself. That’s what people who don’t love themselves do.”

  Heat crept through my body. I opened my mouth to argue with Hannah, but she cut me off.

  “The way I know you hate yourself? When you love yourself, you believe you can withstand whatever life throws at you.” She paused for a beat. “But you don’t. You run around scared shitless of what’s going to happen next, what’s going to go wrong, even when things are great. That’s how people know you hate yourself and your life.”

  The heat spreading through my body became a flash of anger. “Bullshit. I let Tanner move in with me, even though I was afraid of exactly this.”

  She scoffed. “You did that out of fear of losing him. You’ve spent the last few months walking around like a dark cloud is about to burst over your head and piss battery acid all over you.”

  “I don’t do that.” I said in flat tone of voice.

  “Do too. And because you don’t feel confident in your ability to endure, you think it’s the end of the world every time you face a frightening challenge. It’s exhausting to other people. As long as you’re like that, it’s going to make you lose people you love.” She climbed out of the booth and walked toward the door but paused before opening it and turned back to face me. “I’m saying this because I love you down to the pit of my soul. I wouldn’t be alive right now if it weren’t for you. You’ve got more heart and more fight than anybody I know. And I want you to find a way to see how great you are.” She slipped outside before I could answer.

  I sat with my face flaming, tears brimming my eyes. Hannah was wrong. She had to be. Because the person she described sounded pathetic. She couldn’t be me.

  3

  I sat at my table, surrounded by doughnut crumbs, and couldn’t quite work up the energy to move. Not even to wipe down the table, or to go take my sheets out of the washer and move them to the dryer.

  Had Tanner really cut and run because I was too much trouble? I prided myself on being tough, rolling with the punches. Fighting when needed. I sacrificed myself for others. Put their needs ahead of mine.

  But do you do it because you don’t like yourself very much?

  I shook off the thought before it went too deep and went to get dressed. Get busy and stay busy. That would keep the doldrums at bay.

  I wiped down the table, scrubbed the countertops, and picked up the general mess. By the time I finished, I felt pretty good. But when I dropped my pajamas on the pile of dirty clothes in the laundry basket, my forward motion took a rude kick. Crum
bled in the laundry basket was one of Tanner’s T-shirts.

  We didn’t even think to check the dirty laundry. Both of us had been too shook up. Worse, the shirt was one Tanner loved. Solid black, it had the words Led Zeppelin and a winged man. I picked it up and put it to my face, inhaling his scent.

  Then Hannah’s diagnosis of all my problems ran through my head again. Had Tanner left because he was tired of taking care of me? No. He left because he’s a selfish, cowardly bastard. I slung the shirt back into the laundry basket. I’d wash it and see if my cousin, Finn, wanted it.

  From outside my RV came the sound of thumping bass. It came closer, and I could make out Spanish words. Latino rap. The music got even louder, so loud my toiletries vibrated on the counter of the bathroom sink.

  This was ridiculous. Somebody was either going to turn down the music, or I’d turn it down for them. I spun, marched to the door, and slammed it open.

  An 80s Cutlass Supreme sat in front of my RV. Dark, metallic blue and tricked out to the nines, this was a showpiece. Bass rumbled and thumped from the car.

  I’d come out ready to deliver a deluxe knuckle sandwich to the music lover, but now I wasn’t so sure. The Cutlass was parked in front of my home as though it belonged here. The music cut off.

  I flashed again on Queenie’s Tarot cards. The Tower. Death. Ten of Swords. Tanner’s leaving had already turned my life upside down. Was this another kick in the ass?

  My stomach tightened into a fiery ball. I stifled a sour burp, squared my shoulders, and went to face it head on. Before I walked three steps, the car’s door opened.

  Weak sunlight filtering through the gray clouds shone on a head of long, curly blonde hair. Tubby Tubman took one last pull on his cigarette, tossed it on the ground, and stomped on it.

  “C’mere and gimme some sugar, girl.” He held out two skinny, tattooed arms.

  Despite the fact that Tubby caused a stink everywhere he went, I considered him a good friend. I ran to him and threw my arms around his bony bod. He hugged me so tight my back made a popping sound. We let go of each other.

  “Whose car is this?” I made a face and pointed at the gaudy thing.

  “You don’t like the late birthday present I got you?” He stuck out his lower lip in a pout.

  “You’re too cheap to give me a car.” I elbowed him.

  “Good point. Feller who owed me some money settled the debt with this car.” Tubby considered. “After I cut off both his pinky fingers with a pair of bolt cutters.”

  My stomach, still raw with fear, did a slow flip-flop as I imagined two lifeless, bloody pinky fingers on someone’s floor.

  Tubby glanced around the camper. “Where’s Tanner?”

  My two favorite men had met a few times, none very successful. Tubby’s unique charm went beyond anything Tanner could appreciate. It was a relief not to have to play referee to them.

  “He went back to California.” I said it like it didn’t matter.

  Tubby, who’d known me since I could barely tie my shoes, cocked his head and frowned. “You okay?”

  I nodded. No point in analyzing Tanner’s leaving further. It brought up too many questions, ones I didn’t want to deal with right now.

  “Damn that’s an ugly car. Can’t be anybody but Tubby Tubman.” Hannah’s voice came from behind us. She hurried around me, grabbed Tubby, and hugged him. He jumped with surprise and flushed.

  “You see Rainey and Jesse lately?” I asked Tubby. Rainey wasn’t a hands-on person, but that didn’t make her any less of a friend.

  He nodded. “They’re doing good. Jesse works her front desk. She fires him pretty much every day. He comes over to the billiards hall, drinks a beer, laughs about it, and goes back.”

  My uncle was old enough to be his bride’s father. Rainey and Jesse had fallen in love while she helped him get out of prison for a murder he didn’t commit. Most of us thought their passion for each other would fizzle once Jesse was released. But the two had surprised us all by marrying several weeks ago.

  Rainey’s father, Hooty Bruce, had been less than thrilled that one of his old school chums married his daughter, but he’d taken the disappointment with his usual affable dignity. He’d cried in front of me privately and said he worried his daughter was saddling herself with a husband who’d die long before her.

  I suspected Jesse was the one man who could tolerate Rainey’s tantrums, her mean words, and her drive to be the best without feeling threatened. Rainey gave Jesse back his lost youth, made him feel less like a man who’d spent the best years of his life in prison. They’d found what they each needed.

  “What are you thinking so hard about?” Tubby poked me in the ribs, in the spot he knew was ticklish.

  I pushed his hand away. “Wondering what kind of trouble you’re in, who I’m protecting you from this time.”

  “I’m always the one who bails your sorry ass out.” But Tubby threw a glance at the car, then at Hannah. He lowered his voice. “Truth is, I got some bad news.”

  Thunder rumbled the sky.

  Hannah jumped at the sudden noise, but covered it by turning to Tubby.

  “If you pull out your wiener, Tubman, I’m going to make you sorry.” She showed him her fist.

  He giggled. “Naw. You’d like it too much. Bad news is that somebody who don’t like none of us paid me a visit last night.”

  “Who?” I shifted foot to foot. Names and faces flashed in my mind. I made a lot of people—and things—mad.

  “Corman Tolliver.” Tubby sank his teeth into his lower lip, frowning. It was as close to expressing worry as he’d get. Tubby prided himself on hiding his fear. If he was this afraid of Corman, that meant I needed to worry.

  Hannah gasped at Corman’s name. Her hands danced in the air like dying birds. She grabbed my cigarettes from me and lit one. Her hands shook so hard she had to chase the tip of her cigarette with her lighter to get it going. She took a long drag.

  “What’s that animated turd want?” She grated out words in a cloud of smoke.

  “Wade Hill. Said he’d forget about what we did if I gave up Wade.” Tubby’s blue eyes flicked back and forth, unreadable.

  Dark fear broke loose and trampled through me. No. Not this. Not now.

  Wade had helped me destroy the Six Gun Revolutionaries Motorcycle Club several months earlier. Corman had been arrested with his father after the incident but quickly released. It made sense for him to be gunning for Wade. Perfect sense.

  “What’d you tell Corman?” Anger and fear harshened my voice.

  “That I’d give him an answer today.” Tubby’s calm voice clashed with the blaze behind his eyes.

  “Why didn’t you kill him?” Hannah stared at the dirt, cigarette clipped between her first and middle finger.

  “Can’t shit where I eat right now. Got problems with Sheriff Dean Turgeau. Asshole wants to bust me. Murder rap’s a good reason.” Tubby leaned against the Cutlass and lit his own cigarette.

  “So you just disappeared?” I rubbed at my burning stomach. Corman could have followed Tubby to me. He was a sneaky bastard, just like his father.

  “He ain’t followed me. Don’t you think I have better sense than that?” Tubby’s voice raised several octaves, and he gestured at the Cutlass. Understanding soured my boiling stomach further. Tubby had used the car to escape Gaslight City under cover. Its owner had been collateral damage.

  “What do we do?” I asked him.

  “Let’s go in your camper and talk about it. I’m ’bout to starve.” Tubby’s stomach rumbled on cue.

  “Come on.” I led the way, and the other two followed. My thoughts churned.

  Wade had started his life over five hundred miles south and west from Gaslight City, not all that far from where I was camped right then. He lived with his sister and worked in a factory. He’d left his time as an outlaw behind. I’d do everything I could to make sure he got his second chance. Corman would have to be exterminated, and Tubby would help whether he wanted t
o or not.

  I opened the door to my little RV. Dark magic washed over me in a foul wave, bowling me back against Hannah. She caught me under the arms.

  “What the hell?” She hoisted me back to my feet.

  I couldn’t answer her. The box sitting on my table held my full attention. Even if I wasn’t one hundred percent sure the table had been empty when I walked outside, I still would have known the box was wrong. It emanated evil.

  “What’s wrong?” Tubby said from behind me.

  “Yeah, what is it?” Hannah gave me a light shove.

  I gathered my wits and stepped inside my home. The smell of rotten eggs settled over me. My stomach rebelled, and I gagged, putting my hand over my face to mask the smell.

  Tubby shoved around me. “What happened? Your toilet broke?”

  He began opening cabinets, hunting for something to eat.

  “Get away from it.” I gave his arm a hard tug.

  “What? Get away from what?” He jerked away from me, grabbed a package of chocolate sandwich cookies, and tore them open. He shoved three into his mouth at once. How could he eat with that smell?

  Hannah had backed against the counter and had her hands out in warding off motion. She stared at the box, a sick expression on her face.

  “What is it?” She stifled a gag.

  Finally. Someone else sensed the danger rolling off this thing.

  “I don’t know. It wasn’t here when I stepped outside.” A chill ran over me as the ramifications of my words hit home. While Tubby, Hannah, and I stood not ten feet from my RV’s door, someone had snuck in and left this. None of us had heard a thing.

  “Think it has something to do with Corman?” I asked Hannah.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. But that box holds death. I feel it all over me.”

  Hannah, who’d gained the talent of predicting deaths after trying to end her life, had an internal gauge for stuff like this. I’d never doubt her.

  “What do I do?” I said to nobody in particular.

  “Open the damn thing for starters.” Tubby pulled a buck knife from his back pocket and approached the table. His lips parted with a soft pop. He gave his head a slight shake and swallowed hard.