“Not exactly.”
I heard buzzing coming from Dekker’s pocket.
“Go ahead,” I said. I figured it was safe now because he wasn’t acting like a hostage anymore. He was acting how I’d always imagined friends might act.
He dug out the cell phone, glanced at it then flipped it open and held it to his ear. “Hello?”
The clerk came back, both rings on his right pinky. “I can give you thirty--five hundred for everything.”
That was more than I’d hoped for. It would get me to Detroit and hold me over until I got a job. I thought. I wasn’t completely sure, but it was a lot better than twenty--six dollars.
“Okay,” I said.
The clerk nodded and produced a carbon copy form for me to fill out and a pen. He then lifted the Stoeger Double Defense. “They ain’t loaded, right?” he said.
“ ’Course they are,” I said. I pulled it out of his hands, broke it and grabbed the shells as they popped out. I handed everything back to him. “There you go.”
Dekker and the guy stared at me for a few beats before the pawnbroker said, “Be right back with your cash,” and went in the back room again.
“So Dooley called my boss,” Dekker said. “Wanted to know what time I took the groceries out to you, what time I got back to work.” His eyebrow quirked. “I told her I took your groceries out to you, then gave you a ride into town and let you off at the cemetery so you could visit your dad. Then I went home because I got sick.”
I pressed my lips tight together. The cemetery story was pretty good.
The clerk reappeared and gave me an envelope with my money in it. “Count it, please,” he said. “Then initial this and sign here.”
I did and then put the money in my pocket.
“Thank you,” Dekker said to the old man.
We walked outside and got in the truck.
“Do you have the bus terminal address?” Dekker said.
I gave it to him. “And then you’ll be rid of me,” I said.
The terminal wasn’t far. When we got there, Dekker got my suitcase out of the bed of the truck and set it on the sidewalk. “Are you in the witness protection program or something? I gotta tell you, I am—-”
“Thank you very much for your help,” I said. I pulled some of the pawn money from my pocket and held it out to him.
He backed away from it. “I’m not taking—-”
“It’s definitely the least I can do,” I said, stuffing it in his shirt pocket. “I put you through a lot today. I’m sorry. And I really appreciate your help.”
He stood staring at me. I picked up my suitcase and headed for the terminal door.
I didn’t look back.
BACK IN MY truck, I felt enormous relief at being rid of that strange girl. It was just my luck to be kidnapped at gunpoint. It was like I had a fiery red arrow pointed at me that attracted the notice of every zombie freak goon out there. As I adjusted the rearview, I found myself rehearsing in my mind how I was going to tell the story to my bandmates when I got to Kansas City.
But the conversation with Dooley and Randy King kept rolling through my mind. Something was fishy here. Petty could obviously take care of herself, but she was more alone than anyone I’d ever met.
I put the truck in gear and pulled out onto Broadway before pity could overwhelm me. I switched on the radio, hoping to wash away the picture in my mind of that lone girl and her sad suitcase. My life was turning around, and I didn’t need any complications. No matter how beautiful she was.
At a stoplight, I pulled the cash she’d given me from of my pocket and fanned it out. Ten one--hundred--dollar bills.
A horn honk from the rear startled me into hitting the gas and moving forward, but I was so rattled by the wad of bills that I had to pull off the road.
Traffic whizzed past me as I wrestled with what was left of my conscience. A thousand dollars would get me to Kansas City, and buy some great stage gear and plenty of good feelings from my bandmates. But Petty had given me nearly one--third of all the money she had in the world. Surely she didn’t mean to give me that much—-maybe she’d thought they were tens instead of hundreds.
On the other hand, maybe this was the universe’s way of telling me the band thing was going to work out, of urging me on toward stardom. Maybe this was a karmic gift for helping out the town weirdo.
But even as I thought this, I knew it was bullshit. I knew it was a justification to rob this girl who was truly desperate in a way that I would never experience or fully understand. She was going to need every dime she had. This was not my money. I had to go back and return it.