by Amber Foxx
“Not far. I’m not quite done yet.” Leaving the car’s hood up, Misty dropped her rag on the toolbox and put one foot on her board to flip it over. She rode it slowly down Austin toward the river while Mae walked beside her.
Mae said, “Reno was getting rid of pieces of black fabric in the middle of last night. Stuff that was cut like he’d been blacking out windows.”
Misty put a foot down and stopped. “That liar.” Her eyes flashed. “Do you know what he told me? He said he was staying at his dad’s place, and that he’d see me at the final ceremony in the morning. When I didn’t see him, I called and he said he’d been there at sunrise and left early. Blacking out windows—are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. I’m guessing he was at his teacher’s house.”
“That’s crazy. He spent the night in her house? Until you told me about her flirting with him, I could have sworn she got on his nerves, and that he only put up with her for the lessons and because she was his dad’s ex-wife. He complained about her. She had all these rules, like he wasn’t allowed to talk about her family or her whole life before she married Orville.” Misty kicked her board ahead of her, watching it roll away, and they resumed walking. “I wonder who he’s been lying to, her or me? He’s even acting like he cares about her now. When I got back to Mescalero yesterday, he asked me if I’d heard anything about her—he knows I hear everything at work. So I told him about her still wanting to draw and Niall getting her some colored pencils, and that I thought Daphne and Chuck were putting an alarm in her house. I said it was weird that they’d bother, because it sounded like she’s about to die.” Misty caught up with her board and began to glide on it. “He kept asking for more, like did they say anything else, anything else? What else he did expect—did he think she would tell her lawyer that she loved him? What in hell is going on?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Mae didn’t want to accuse Reno of stealing paintings without proof. “The memorial he did for Violet is missing. He might have taken it.”
“He was scared of Violet. And now he wants a souvenir of her?”
“I doubt it. He’s just trying to keep me from doing any psychic work with his things. But I did some anyway.” Mae explained about Jamie finding the feather in the thrift shop and Reno trying to give Florencia a new parrot.
Misty stopped abruptly in front of a mural-painted trailer, her eyes blazing. “What a hypocrite. He gave her a parrot?”
“Not quite. She didn’t want it.”
The stood silently for a moment, Misty rocking her board back and forth with one foot, Mae gazing at the images on the trailer—a pueblo double vase, a deer, smoke rising from a fire or a smudge stick, a parrot, and a poem in blue paint and uneven lettering.
One line of the verse made Mae think of Jamie every time she saw it. Those who have moved our souls to dance ...
She asked Misty, with a nod toward the poem. “You feel that way about Reno?”
“I wish I did. But honestly? No. I love him, but he’s never been any fun.”
“God. Y’all are doomed.” Though Mae was no expert on choosing a mate, at least both of her ex-husbands had been people she could joke and play with, and Jamie, for all his neuroses, could be full of joy as well. “A good relationship takes more than having fun—but you have to actually be happy together some of the time.”
“Does Jamie make you happy?”
“Yes.” Mae thought of his dancing, his lovemaking, his awe at the double rainbow, his deep love and kind heart—and then the soup, the laundry, the cookies with hearts and smiles, the camping trip, and the parrot. “He tries.” That sounded wrong, as if she wanted more from him. “I mean, sometimes he tries too hard.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“Kind of. I guess that sounds crazy to you. But I look at you and your sisters and I think y’all put up with way too much and that looks crazy to me. Reno lies to you and hides things from you, Will probably never planned to marry Montana, and Zak’s hiding stuff too, and he practically ignores his kids.”
“Of course he does. You ever wonder why? Some people say they look like his grandmother—that they got the Pena genes—but a lot of people say they look like Will. There’s even a rumor going around that you’re a witch and you put a spell on Will for Melody so he’d dump Tana and come back to her. I could just smack the shit out of the person that started it. That was the meanest thing anyone could have said—for you, for Mel, for Tana, for Zak, for Will—everyone. Who would say something like that?”
“Reno.”
“What?”
Mae described her vision of Reno and Letitia. “He wanted to drive me away so I wouldn’t learn their secrets.”
Fists clenched, jaw tight, Misty glared down at the pavement. “Serves him right that you still found out.”
“I didn’t—not all of it, not yet.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s enough for me.”
Misty turned her board back toward Reno’s house and pushed off hard, flying down the street. Mae followed from a distance. Misty charged up the steps and beat on the door of the trailer. “Reno Geronimo! Get your lying ass out here!”
No answer. She pounded again. He opened the door, blinking and frowning, pushing his hair out of his face.
“How dare you say Melody—” Misty lost control, her words turning into a cross between a scream and a growl. “Watch this, you worthless piece of shit.”
She yanked her ring off and flung it into the Rabbit’s engine, where it vanished with a ping and a rattle, and then jumped off the steps, grabbed her toolbox, and shot away on her skateboard. Mae wanted to applaud. The Chino sisters might be crazy-loyal to their men, but they were even more loyal to each other.
Reno descended the steps in slow motion and leaned on the rim of the Rabbit’s open engine compartment. Unsure what to say or whether she should speak at all, Mae paused at the end of the driveway. Jamie would have known what to do even if it was clumsy—he wouldn’t hesitate to reach out.
“Reno.” Mae kept her voice soft. “Are you all right?”
He slammed the hood down and glared at her. “What do you think?”
“I’m sorry she hurt you.”
“No, you’re not. Or you wouldn’t have made it happen.”
“I made it happen?” Anger rushed in, burning away Mae’s concern for him. “You gonna tell people I put a spell on Misty to make her dump you? I told her the truth when you wouldn’t. And the only person to blame for that is you.”
Reno strode toward her. “What truth? You don’t know anything. What bullshit are you making up about me?”
She didn’t know if he’d stolen from Florencia, or how he’d acquired a stolen parrot. She didn’t know if he’d had an affair with his teacher or only tried to. What mattered to Misty, though, was the witch rumor, and of that Mae was certain. “I told her the bullshit you’d made up about me.”
His mouth opened, then shut. Reno turned abruptly and rushed into his house, taking his phone from his pocket.
The next day as Mae was leaving for a personal training session, she drove past Reno’s trailer and noticed the Rabbit was gone. He had all the window blinds pulled up—something no one did in T or C in the summer—and the screen door flapped in the breeze, banging against the building. That had to be annoying the neighbors. She parked and climbed the steps to shut the door. Through the nearest window, she saw an empty room. Bare walls. No furniture. Reno had moved out.
Mae got back in her car and before she backed out called Niall to tell him what she’d seen. Gossip had already reached him. Reno had apparently cleared out in the middle of the night. No one had seen who helped him or knew where he’d gone. A tow truck had claimed the Rabbit first thing in the morning. Niall had already called Orville, who knew nothing of his son’s whereabouts.
Mae drove to Las Cruces, relieved to be done with Reno, but at the same time doubting that she was, and feeling a trifle worried and guilty, though his problems were his own fault.
When she got home, ready to enjoy some quiet time alone, Jamie’s green Fiesta was parked in her carport, its back hatch crammed with his instruments, and he was sitting on her porch, reading a paperback. He looked up with a radiant smile. “Surprise.”
She’d had only one night alone and needed more. Hadn’t he understood what she’d told him? “Jamie—”
He laughed so hard he dropped his book, and she had to forgive him. When she climbed the steps and saw the enormous blob of orange fur in his lap, she thought she might have forgiven him too soon. Jamie rose, clutching the cat to his chest, and freed one arm to hug Mae. “Got a couple of gigs in Cruces. Thought I’d stop by on my way.”
Mae gave him a quick kiss and slipped out of his embrace to unlock the door, glad he’d cut her off before she’d scolded him for crowding her. “You almost missed me. I just got back from Las Cruces.”
Jamie followed her inside. “Guess you wouldn’t want to go down for my show tonight, then. How about tomorrow?”
“I can’t. I’ve got a healing client tomorrow evening.”
“You’re doing a healing before you take the workshop?” Jamie put his cat down and closed the door. They took off their shoes, following Niall’s rules about the flawless bamboo floors. “Shouldn’t you tell her to wait?”
“She’s really eager to quit smoking. I’m not asking her to wait ’til August.”
“Mm. Yeah. Reckon. Just wanted the time with you, y’know?” Jamie wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her ear. “Only a few weeks and then I’ll be on the road for months.”
“This is time together, sugar. It doesn’t have to be every day.”
“I know. But I thought I’d try anyway. It’s not like I’m asking you to go camping.” He rocked her in the hug, then drew back enough to meet her eyes. “Speaking of that—did I tell you I fixed my tent? Took a while, but it survived. I know you’re not going to sleep in it, but it’s one thing I saved from the whole fucked-up weekend.”
“I’m glad you could patch it.” She took his hand and led him to sit with her on the couch. There was a lot she still hadn’t told him about his friends and their secrets. “We need to talk.”
“Did I do something?”
“No. It’s about Reno. And Shelli and David.”
Gasser, the cat, waddled over and began to meow. Jamie lifted him into his lap and bent over to murmur a few endearments into his fur. “Is it bad?”
“Yes and no. I found out where Placido is,” she said. “He’s okay. He’s in an art gallery with the hyacinth macaw.”
“Fuck me dead.” Jamie looked up. “Reno gave him to a gallery? Wonder if they’d sell him.”
“Sugar, he’s stolen. He’s not theirs to sell. And ... David’s mother runs the gallery.”
“David’s mum? But that means—that means ...”
“I know. Shelli lied to you. They both did.”
“Fuck.” Jamie sank lower into the couch. “I thought they liked me.”
“I’m sure they do, but that doesn’t make them honest.” Mae described the back room and the hyacinth passing as Violet. “Letitia sends people to see that collection and to buy part of it. I think Reno’s been stealing from his teacher so they can have more to sell and still have their museum.”
“You don’t know that. Whole thing could be legit. Anyway, I asked you to leave that stuff alone. Will owes Tana, remember? We can’t leave her hanging.”
“It’s all connected. I couldn’t help it. And I didn’t agree to stop trying. I’m done with psychic work for Misty, but not because you told me to stop. She broke up with Reno, and he left town.”
“Jeezus.” Jamie straightened up again, staring at her. “No. You shouldn’t have done that. They needed to work it out.”
“I didn’t break them up.” An uneasy image filled her mind, a boxing ring with the Chino sisters in one corner and Mae as their coach, and Reno, Zak and Will in the other corner, with Jamie giving ice and a towel to a pummeled, fallen Reno. “It was a messed-up relationship to start with. She dumped him when I told her what he said about me.”
Jamie stood and paced, carrying Gasser like a teddy bear. “Yeah. Guess he deserved it for that.” He rubbed his chin on the cat’s head. “Weird. I was pissed off at Reno for saying that, but now I’m worried about him, too. Is that fucked up?”
“Not really. You’ve known him a long time.”
“Did he go home? He needs to be with people.”
“No. Orville doesn’t know where he is. But I don’t think he’s alone. Somebody had to have helped him move out.”
“Heartbreak. Guess he’s trying to start over somewhere else.”
“Or hiding his secret. He took the memorial he made for Violet off her grave.”
“Jeezus.” Jamie put the cat down and drifted into the kitchen. “Mind if I make coffee?”
Mae assured him it was fine and joined him. She got mugs from a cupboard. Jamie filled the coffee maker and measured beans into the grinder. Mae had the odd thought that this was one thing they agreed on perfectly. Black coffee, no sugar, freshly ground.
Over the whir of the grinder, Jamie said, “He’s got to be scared. Does Misty still want you to find out what he’s hiding?”
Mae sat at the table. “I don’t think she cares anymore.”
“Good.” He dumped the coffee into a filter, put it in place, and turned the machine on. “I hope that means you won’t go fucking around with Zak’s stuff this weekend.”
“If Melody asks me to see what he’s up to, I’m not gonna say no. She still thinks he’s fooling around with Letitia.”
Jamie sat across from her, his gaze intense and pleading. “I hope he’s not. But Zak’s my mate, y’know? He should be able to trust me. And that means he needs to be able to trust you, too.”
Avoiding Jamie’s baby seal eyes, Mae toyed with the lid on the tub of cookies, peeling it up slowly. It would have been easier to argue with him if he yelled at her. How had she ever gotten up the strength to try to break up with him? To tell him so many things he didn’t want to hear? She was going to have to get better at this or she’d qualify as a Chino sister. The cookies seemed to stare at her with their heart-shapes and raisin smiley faces, reminding of her of everything she loved about Jamie that also drove her crazy—his stubborn, blind, generous, misguided good intentions.
His loyalty to Zak touched her. She’d had a cheating first husband, though. Jamie might not understand, but if she had to choose between what he wanted and what Melody wanted, she would have to side with Zak’s wife.
Mae finally looked at Jamie. His expression hadn’t changed. She squeezed his hand. “Maybe she won’t ask me.”
His smile was a sunburst of relief. “Yeah. That’d be best. Maybe she won’t.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
On Wednesday evening, Mae walked to her appointment with Daphne Brady in an optimistic mood. After all the conflict and stress about using her gift as a psychic, working as a healer would feel good, the way her fitness work did. She found the lawyer waiting outside the red-and-white one-story building, smoking. Mae reached out to shake hands. “You ready? That your last one?”
“It sure is.” Daphne dropped her cigarette into a flower pot full of gravel and other butts. Her grip was ferocious. “The last one.” She led Mae inside to a reception area. “Not very mystical, is it? Niall said you did the trick on him in front of the Ellis building.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a trick—”
“I meant you did the thing that finally worked. Not that you tricked him.” She perched her bony backside on the edge of a desk near the receptionist’s name plate. Mae examined the room. Two red leatherette chairs, a coffee table displaying the Sierra County Artists’ Directory, New Mexico Magazine, and a wildlife newsletter. The floor was b
are hardwood. “Normally,” when I’m not having some random effect in a parking lot, “I like to have healing clients lie down. They’re more relaxed. I can get a better feel for their energy, too.” Lying on the hard floor, this skinny woman wouldn’t be relaxed.
“So it is more like a ceremony. Good. Smoking is a ritual. I’d like to banish it with a counter-ritual.”
The insight surprised Mae, but it pleased her. “Do you have a couch in your office? Or a rug?”
“No. You really need a proper healing room for your business, don’t you?”
The phone in the back office rang. Daphne excused herself to answer it. Mae sat in one of the leatherette chairs and looked out the window. Main Street was almost deserted. Summer. If Mae had a room like she’d had in Virginia Beach before she’d moved out West, she could do moderately well in the fall and winter. But that was when school asked the most of her. A healing business would have to wait until graduation, and then she might be moving to Santa Fe, if she and Jamie were still together. She hoped they would be, but it was too soon to know.
“I’m sorry.” Daphne walked in with a handful of papers. “I need to go over this. Alan Pacheco, the art critic and painter—I don’t know if you’ve heard of him—”
“I have. I know him.”
“So you know what Florencia asked him to write, then?”
“Something like an obituary only longer, and then something else for an exhibit she wants him to organize after she dies. A biography, too, I think.”
“Yes. He just emailed me the memorial article. He was trying to get it finished in time for her to approve it. I said I’d go over it first, tell him if I see anything she wouldn’t like, and then I’ll read it to her.”
“Should we reschedule your healing? I know you wanted that to be your last cigarette ...”
“I did.” Daphne looked down at her nails. “But I didn’t get my manicure yet. I was even thinking of getting a massage and doing a hot spring soak. A total cleansing to get ready. I haven’t had time.”