“Until you pulled that wicked jiu--jitsu move in front of Walgreens, I wouldn’t have believed you,” I said. I sat up straighter. “Who else? Who else could you take?”
As soon as it was out of my mouth, I was afraid she’d say, “You.” But she didn’t. She glanced around and said, “The guy on the far right of the bar, the bartender, the waitress, and the guy in the hunting vest.”
“And who’d you have trouble with?”
“The stout guy in the slipknot T--shirt at the bar and the guy in camo.”
“And we’re talking strictly hand--to--hand, right?”
She nodded. “It’s Ashley I’m most worried about, because she’s wiry and unpredictable and meth heads sometimes have super strength. Plus I’ll bet she cheats.”
“Right?” I said. “Listen, I swear I didn’t know she was doing drugs. She was such a sweet girl. It sucks.”
A giggle escaped Petty, but she sobered immediately. “That’s not funny. I don’t know why I laughed.”
“Because it’s your first beer and you haven’t had anything to eat. Don’t worry about it.”
She giggled again.
Ashley came back to our table. “You need another one?” she asked.
“I think we’re good, Ash,” I said.
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
She went back to the two guys in baseball caps she’d been talking to. She would talk and talk then throw her head back and laugh, then glance in Petty’s direction. The two guys kept smiling at each other, smiles that said, “We’re getting laid tonight.”
DEKKER ORDERED US some nachos. I felt clearer after I had some food in my stomach, but the beer made me warm and relaxed, which alarmed me. Ashley spun over to us every once in a while. She didn’t eat anything, which didn’t surprise me. By eight o’clock the place was standing room only, and Dekker told Ashley it was time to go.
“She wants to stay,” Dekker said when she walked away from the table again. “She said to go back to her place and she’ll catch a ride with her new ‘friends’ later. She gave me the key.” He held it up.
That was fine by me. But looking around at the packed bar, I felt jumpy. No way I’d get out of here without making physical contact with a bunch of -people.
Dekker said, “I’ll go first and clear a path for you.”
“Okay,” I said.
He turned his back to me and I followed him out into the dark night. I took a huge gulp of the clean--smelling night air.
“Why do -people hang out there?” I said.
“To get laid,” Dekker said, and then turned toward me, a horrified expression on his face. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
I shrugged. I was sure he was right. All the movements and facial expressions and sounds inside the bar had been cartoonishly exaggerated, like the acting in bad TV movies I’d seen over the years. It was like mating week on Animal Planet or something.
We got in the truck and Dekker said, “Ashley told me there are two twin beds in her room, and you can have one of them. I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep at all,” I said. “I’ve never slept anywhere but my house. Ever.”
It must have been hard for Dekker not to shout out What? every time I revealed another facet of my weird life.
“I’ve always had a tough time when I’m away from home too,” he said instead. “When I first got to K--State, I had a hard time falling asleep. Unless I was toasted, of course.”
It would also be hard to sleep because there would be a man in the apartment, plus a girl I didn’t trust at all. I thought this but didn’t say it. When we got to Ashley’s neighborhood, Dekker circled the block twice looking for parking. We had to park a block and a half away.
I reached for my suitcase but Dekker said, “Maybe you ought to leave that here.” I guessed he didn’t exactly trust her either. He put it in the cab, then locked the doors.
Inside the apartment, the smell of smoke was now old and stale, so Dekker opened some windows. He went into Ashley’s bedroom and flipped on the lights. I looked under the beds and in the closet. The bed I was supposed to sleep on was piled high with dirty clothes. Dekker swept it off for me.
“There you go.” He yawned and stretched, and he was so tall his knuckles scraped the ceiling. “I’m going to watch some TV.”
“Good night,” I said. He closed the bedroom door behind him. I heard the TV switch on in the living room as I sat on the bed. I wished I’d brought the photo album into the apartment so I could look at it, because I was sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
I wondered why Dad had told me there weren’t any photos. I thought about how he never wanted to talk about Mom, and I started to wonder if maybe the house fire was set by some criminal syndicate my dad was mixed up with and we were in the witness protection program like Dekker had said. I lay on top of the covers and closed my eyes anyway to get some rest.