I heard. Giving in to the bitter inevitable, I pulled up my shirt to chest height and revealed the money belt around my waist. It was there that I kept every penny I hadn’t paid to Saul. There was nearly fifty thousand dollars along with all of my fake ID in that belt. I couldn’t keep it in the car. I’d stolen our transportation easily enough; there was no guarantee someone else might not do the same.
“Jackpot,” she breathed, eyes locked on my waist with naked avarice. “Baby needs a new pair of shoes. And it looks like he’s going to get them, a whole store’s worth.” Waggling the revolver, she ordered, “Fork it over. Now.”
There was only one way out of this that didn’t involve gunfire and blood, and it sucked. It sucked thoroughly, but I didn’t see a way around it—not one I was willing to involve Michael in at any rate. Gritting my teeth against a cold rush of anger, I released the buckle on the belt and held it out to her. Her gun unwavering, she took a step forward and snatched the thick strip of nylon out of the air as it swung back and forth. As she did so, I heard an excited barking. It was Blossom. She was riding in the back of a pickup with her front paws propped up on the tailgate in true time-honored country style. The truck pulled up not quite ten feet from us, stopping just behind Fisher. The pickup itself was a dusty reddish brown or brownish red; it was hard to tell. Either red with brown mud or vice versa, it was completely nondescript. And so was the guy behind the wheel.
Dirty blond hair under a baseball hat, denim jacket, and a two-day beard, he could’ve been any good old boy in a two-hundred-mile radius. The deer rifle pointed at my head was the only false note. Through the open window the man showed white teeth any Gulf shark would be proud of. He didn’t take good care of his truck, but he loved his teeth. Or he loved his meth and those were dentures. “You think good thoughts, fella.” Calling to Fisher, he added, “You ’bout ready, honey?”
Here was the boyfriend who had supposedly left a pregnant girl high and dry on a lonesome road. In reality he was her partner in crime, although I had the feeling she would wear the pants in any relationship. They might be maternity pants, but she was the boss. On that front I had no doubts.
“Coming, doll baby.” She hefted the money belt to feel the weight. Her eyes were brilliant with pleasure. “Boys, boys, you’ve been so good to me. Better than even Gramma Lilly.”
Gramma Lilly, my ass. Her lies had been consummate, her acting flawless. She’d put Meryl Streep out of business. There was no Lilly. But if there were, I would’ve hoped she didn’t have life insurance naming her grand-daughter as beneficiary. The old lady wouldn’t have been long for this world if that were the case. I remembered with perfect clarity how Fisher had pointed out the restaurant for its great food. That the gun-toting boyfriend would be meeting her here was only a bonus to the best barbecue in the tri-state area. Who knew how many times before they’d pulled a stunt like this. Who knew how many people out there were as stupid as I was.
“Yeah, it’s been our pleasure,” I said with tight-lipped venom.
“Now don’t be that way.” She backed toward the truck and punctuated the remark with the cocking of the revolver. It was unnecessary. The damn thing was double action; she could pull the trigger at any time, no preparation necessary. “I was sweet as pie to you. Told you some good stories, flirted with the boy. It was like a dinner and a show. You should be thanking me, not being all pissy.”
“Yeah,” I gritted as she began to back away. “I’m a real bastard.”
Her partner put his rifle down to open the door for her and take the belt from her hand. Then he opened his door and stood within the opening to keep us covered while she climbed awkwardly into the passenger seat. When she had closed the door and settled in, she rested her arm out the window, cheek lying against shoulder, and watched us—just watched. I could see the thought swimming beneath the blue violet water of her eyes, a silver fish circling and circling.
To kill or not to kill?
It wasn’t Shakespeare, but it had a certain poetry that held my attention all the same. Her finger caressed the trigger as a dreamy smile curved her lips. She’d reapplied her lip gloss at the table after finishing her pie and ice cream. I’d caught a whiff of the pink stuff as I watched the tube glide across her mouth. It had smelled like strawberries. Realistically, I was too far away to smell it now, but I did. I smelled it as strongly as if I stood in the middle of a field of berries ripe for picking, sweetly tart and warm from the summer sun. It’s strange what you think of when a bullet is seconds away from shattering your skull.
I was going to have to try for my gun. I wouldn’t make it in time, that was a given, but I had to try. Just before my hand began to move Fisher made her decision. “What the hell. You did buy a lady lunch.” Blowing us a triumphant and gloating kiss, she and the truck disappeared in a cloud of red dust. I didn’t know if the chalkiness in my mouth was from the free-flying grit or was merely the taste of my own idiocy. As I stood there minute after minute, unmoving, the taste grew stronger instead of fading.