“Well, it’s a long story,” Manny said a little loudly, and he turned down the radio so low she could only hear the hard consonant sounds from the speaker. “But the short of it is, she wanted me to have it.”
“She what?” Charlie said. “This piece of shit is the only thing of any value she has ever had. Why would she give it away?”
“Well, not give, exactly. She loaned it to me. I told her I was trying to see you more, but it was hard walking everywhere, and so on, and I guess she felt bad for me. She was nice enough to lend it to me for a few days.”
Charlie worried if she poked at his explanation it would not hold, so she let it be, for now. She knew Manny and Sandy had been chummy, since he had apparently been confiding in her about how Kit had kidnapped Charlie as a baby. Knowing Sandy, she thought with a shudder, they were probably more than chummy.
About a half hour after they’d left Pecan Hollow, Manny stopped at a gas station, a log-cabin-style building painted red. “Need a pit stop?” he asked.
“I’m good,” Charlie said. Manny disappeared inside the convenience store and when he came out a few minutes later, he was smiling like he’d won a prize.
He grabbed his bag and Kit’s gun from the back and gestured with his head for Charlie to come with him. She wondered, with a nervous chill, why he was bringing the gun.
“Quick change of plans,” he said, hot magic in his eyes. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Charlie followed him, a whole flock of wings flapping around her stomach, to a zippy tomato-colored sports car with a T-top and fleecy seat covers. He tossed their things in the back and opened the door gallantly.
“We’re not taking this,” she said, frightened and thrilled.
Manny pinched his brow to a hard line above his eyes that told her she should listen. She sat down in the cramped passenger seat, her long legs folded and pressed to the dash. Manny laughed and hopped in, started her up with a brilliant roar.
“We can’t,” she said and whipped her head around to see if anyone was looking.
“Just a little joyride,” he said.
“What about Sandy’s car?” She felt genuinely distraught that he would be so careless with something so dear to Sandy.
“We’ll be back for it later,” he said. “It’ll be fine!” He looked toward the station and cut a swift C backward before sliding out onto the main road. Charlie’s gut was roller-coaster high. The wind spun her hair into a net around her face, and she clawed it and tied it back.
“How the shit did you get the keys for this?” she asked, trying her best not to sound like a sourpuss.
“Just a little sleight of hand while I was waiting in line in there,” he said proudly. “There were three guys in line, but only one of them wore cologne. Expensive, smelled like orange. I knew that was our mark. When he bought a magazine and asked for the key to the john, I figured he’d be in there long enough for us to pull it off.”
Charlie couldn’t settle on a feeling. She was excited and scared, and also guilty. Guilty for leaving Sandy’s car behind, and for having this adventure without her mom. But there was such freedom in jumping in and letting go, being driven away into the unknown. She buried her face in her hands and screamed, and the sound of it blended with the screams of the engine and the highway sweeping by.
Manny and Charlie spent the day at a jumbo arcade and roller rink. Manny pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, smooth and unreal, the first she had ever seen. He slid it in the change machine, which spewed a seemingly endless shower of quarters. Manny caught them all in a plastic bag and laughed at the look on Charlie’s face. She thought of the change jar at home, and how her mom would notice if she’d taken even one quarter for a Popsicle or a pack of gum. A glimmer of conscience, a question—Where did he get that money?—appeared and vanished.
They played every game twice and spent the rest of the quarters on foot-long hot dogs and soft serve and buckets of soda. Charlie could feel his attention and his care, in the way he slipped a fresh stack of quarters in her hand as soon as she ran out, or how the moment she began to feel overwhelmed by the lights and pinging sounds of the arcade, he led her outside to watch the sun drop into the horizon like a big brass coin. When they left, she felt goofy and happy and slipped her arms around Manny as they walked to the car. She loved him for bringing her here and treating her to this big adventure. This was, she imagined, what it felt like to be spoiled. She thought with bitterness about Kit’s idea of fun. Beating Charlie at cards after supper, gunning it over the hump at the railroad crossing, lighting a bonfire after they’d cleared the pasture of branches. Charlie had cherished those times, because they were all she had, but now Manny was showing her how to live.
After the arcade, he made a point of stopping at a Town n’ Country mall. Charlie stayed in the car and listened to AM radio while he went in to pick up something. When he got back fifteen minutes later, he said he wanted to treat her to dinner. She was full from the soda and junk food and didn’t feel like eating any more, but it didn’t seem decent to turn him down.
They pulled up to the restaurant at dusk. Mosquitoes trolled outside the windows like little ghosts. Charlie kept repeating scenes from the day in hopes she could etch them forever in her memory. Manny turned and pulled from the backseat a white paper shopping bag.
“I gotcha something,” he said, pushing away the hair from his brow. “Go ahead and slip this on. Don’t worry, I won’t look.”
Charlie wasn’t used to getting presents. All her life she had watched the girls from school get dresses, stuffed animals, puppies, and even ponies from their dads. What little Kit had given her had never even been wrapped. She reached in and held up a plain striped T-shirt. She was a little surprised because it wasn’t anything special, not that it was bad. She smiled and put it in her lap and reached in the bag again. This time it was a plain pair of dark jeans.
“Wow,” she said. “Thank you.” She was fearful of breaching the peace between them. “It’s always good to have extra clothes.”
“Well, go on,” he said. “Put ’em on. Trust me, it’s a perfect fit.”
She didn’t know if he meant to change here, in the car, or in the restaurant. Either way it was starting to feel weird.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m comfortable in the clothes I’m wearing, if you don’t mind.”
Manny looked annoyed. He cocked his head.
“Why are you being difficult? Just put ’em on, I want to see what you look like.”
Something sick in her belly told her not to push back.
“Here?” she said.