AFTER SOME CONVINCING, Gavin agreed to leave for forty-eight hours. Once they decided to leave Gainesville, Betsy started breathing again.
They’d settled on their destination, New Orleans, an hour into the drive. It was an unusual approach, sure, but neither of them had been thinking very clearly. They drove back to Gavin’s so he could scavenge enough clothes for a night or two, careful to avoid his raging bull neighbor. Betsy had already packed a bag to stay at Gavin’s. Then they made one stop, at Bagelville, to get an early payday from Tom. They’d pulled up to the store and saw the light in the kitchen was on, steam already clouding the windows, and Betsy pounded on the back door with the palm of her hand. Tom cleared the glass with his sleeve and peered out the window before he opened the door.
“Jesus Christ, Bets, you scared me,” said Tom, talking through the wrought-iron gate covering the door, glancing at his watch while he turned the dead bolt and let her in. “And you’re more than two hours early, which does not make up for the eight times you were fifteen minutes late. Just so we’re clear.”
“Tom, I’m not here for work. I can’t do it today,” she said, looking at his shoes so he wouldn’t see how wasted she was. “I . . . I was just wondering. Can you . . . just . . . pay me now? Is that OK?”
It occurred to her how hard she was trying to act sober, and she felt the judgment behind his concerned expression. “I need to get out of here for a couple of days. And I can’t come in tomorrow. Or I guess it’s today now.”
“You seem a little spooked. You OK?” he asked, stepping outside to look over at Gavin’s car to see who was inside. “If you’re in some kind of situation . . . I . . . I don’t know. Can I help you out in some way?”
“I’m fine, Tom,” she said. “Honest to God. It’s just with the reporters crawling all over the place, and classes being canceled, and you know, a guy on the loose who is murdering young women . . . I . . . I have to go. Now. So the only thing you can do to help me right now, if you want to help like you say you do, is to pay me a couple of days early, and give me today and tomorrow off.”
He stood there for a moment, leaning on the doorframe, still suspicious of the car. He pulled a handful of bills from his wallet.
“I’ve got a hundred on me. We can figure out your hours when you get back, OK?”
“Thanks, Tom,” she said, shrinking a little with gratitude. When she reached to take the money, he took her hand.
“But, Betsy, be careful. I’m serious,” he said. She nodded, fighting her tears. “If you need anything, for real, let me know.”
Back in the car, Gavin attempted a joke.
“What, no fresh-baked sesames?” he said. She didn’t laugh.
“I’ve got to tell you something, and I think now is the perfect time,” he said.
“What?” asked Betsy, her stomach knotting again. “What is it?”
“I hate bagels,” he said. “Hate ’em. They’re gummy and thick, and generally disgusting. Nobody needs that much bread. I’m more of a toast guy.”
“Can I ask you a question?” she said. “I mean, two questions?”
“Shoot.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“Well, I didn’t realize you’d left for a while,” he said. “I saw Newland stumble in and Teddy confront him, and before I knew what was what he dove over the drum kit swinging at me, I mean, like a lunatic. It got pretty ugly.”
“Oh God.”
“They finally pulled him off of me, but not until he trashed Bobby’s drums. He was pissed.”
“Jesus, are you serious? I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It was my fault. I should have said something to him about it, about you,” he said. “But you know what a hothead he is. I was just waiting for the right time. I never imagined he would snap like that. No offense, but he told me he hated you. I didn’t think he’d care if we were together.”
“No offense taken,” she said. Gavin said they were together.
“By the time he settled down and Teddy told me what happened, you were long gone. I went to your place first, but you clearly weren’t there. Then I went back to my place for a minute thinking you might show up. But then I remembered you told me about staying with Ginny over at Williamsburg, and I took a guess.”
Before they left town, Betsy requested one more stop. They made a right turn on 10th Street and she directed Gavin to pull into a dark driveway nearly overgrown with an ornery, untamed hedge.
“Give me a second,” she said. She got out of the car and crossed through the headlights, stepped lightly onto the sagging front porch of Rich the Geek’s house, reached into her pocket to retrieve Godzilla, still deep green and bumpy like an avocado and warm from her pocket, and placed it near the door.
“What’s going on?” asked Gavin.