“No,” said Laverna. “I think we should cast a spell. We need witch books. You’re going to have to take me to the library.” Red Mabel ignored this, as Laverna’s latest round of painkillers had finally taken effect.
Red Mabel helped Laverna inside her house and led her to the couch. She offered to make her coffee, but Laverna asked for a beer instead, although she quickly discovered that drinking was just as impossible as smoking. She sent Red Mabel to the grocery store for straws, and her truck was gone for more than an hour, most likely staking out the Clinkenbeard residence.
When Red Mabel returned, they found that the phone was also a problem. Red Mabel had to dial, and stick the receiver in between -Laverna’s shoulder and ear. Laverna liked to talk on the phone, liked to issue proclamations to her staff and spread gossip, or start gossip, but now it was uncomfortable for her to twist her neck for so long. Red Mabel held the phone up to Laverna’s ear, and she called Tabby at home and warned her that she would need paper and a pen for all of the directions she was about to unleash.
“I don’t trust Rachel one bit,” said Laverna. “You need to watch her. Keep her away from the men. Keep her away from the jukebox. Do not let her talk to the jukebox vendor, or she will change every single goddamn song to heavy metal. Music like that will only encourage those silver miners to create havoc and destroy things. I’ve had enough destruction, thank you very much.”
“Okay,” said Tabby.
“Now,” demanded Laverna. “Write these things down.”
Laverna launched into the day-to-day operations she would no longer be able to micromanage. Laverna had memorized the numbers of the beer vendors, as well as the number of the man who leased the poker machines. Laverna had not memorized the number of the food distributor. Every week, Ronda just handed the driver her order form, silent as usual.
“I also want you to keep an eye on Ronda’s orders,” said Laverna. “If you think she’s ordering extra food to steal for whatever goddamn tribe she’s from, you call me. Immediately. I don’t want free fried chicken from the Dirty Shame being eaten in every teepee across the Northwest.”
“Okay,” said Tabby.
“Are you writing this down?”
“Of course,” said Tabby.
“Your biggest problem is going to be Rachel. She’s always been my biggest problem, but I have suffered life-threatening injuries, and I simply can’t deal with her right now.”
“I thought he just shot your arms.”
“Shut up,” said Laverna.
Red Mabel took the phone away from her. She could hear Tabby squawking something, but the conversation was over as far as she was concerned.
“Light me a cigarette,” demanded Laverna, and Red Mabel obliged.
Ten minutes later, Laverna asked Red Mabel to put her to bed. It took half an hour rearranging pillows and bedding until Laverna was comfortable. It was going to be hard for her to sleep with her arms stuck straight out in front of her, but the whiskey was opened, and Red Mabel administered dosages until Laverna passed out.
* * *
The next morning, Laverna was moored at her dining room table, using her thumbs to page through magazines, but she could not concentrate on anything she was reading. It was the first day of March, and spring remained an obscure idea. She really wanted a cigarette, but Red Mabel had left to park her truck outside of the Clinkenbeard residence. Red Mabel did this every single day, just parked there, for at least an hour. This had not brought any results; no Clinkenbeard ever emerged from their house, although Red Mabel had claimed she had seen some curtains rustling.
The local police begged Red Mabel to stay out of it, to let them handle the Clinkenbeards. They knew Red Mabel’s predilection toward violence, because they had been on the receiving end of it, many times. They also knew that Red Mabel had dynamite, but knew better than to bring that up.
Red Mabel was the one who lit Laverna’s cigarettes, and also the one who gave Laverna a bath every morning. At first, this was embarrassing for both of them, but the whiskey helped.
There was a knock at the door. Laverna yelled for Red Mabel out of habit, but she was gone.
“Come in!” Laverna hollered as loud as she could. She needed a cigarette and was too irritable to prop herself up on her casts and maneuver out of the dining room chair.
Krystal Bailey was laden with three pies, one tin in each hand, and the other balanced carefully in the crook of her arm. Laverna said nothing as Krystal laid the pies out in front of her.
“Two banana creams, and a rhubarb for Red Mabel,” said Krystal.
“Give me a cigarette,” said Laverna. Krystal reached for Laverna’s pack and slid a cigarette into the corner of Laverna’s mouth. Krystal lit the cigarette for her and pretended to cough.
“As a nurse, I really must warn you about smoking. It slows the healing process.”
“Fuck off,” said Laverna. “Can you get me some more painkillers?”