High-Caliber Concealer

by Bethany Maines

  “I love your clothes,” he said, putting one foot on the bottom rail and leaning his elbows on the top, facing Nikki. “I wouldn’t dream of insulting them.” His face was perfectly serious, but there was a twinkle in his eye. Nikki laughed and handed him a can, keeping the other for herself.

  He smelled like hay and Nikki let her gaze run down the length of his torso. He had a scar that ran from his ribs to his back. It was wide and had the slightly shiny, stretched look of a cut that hadn’t been sewn up properly.

  “What’d you do?” she asked pointing at the ugly scar.

  He glanced down at himself as if he’d forgotten there was something there.

  “Got tagged by a bull,” he said, popping open his soda. “Ugly son of a bitch snagged me in between the tabs on my vest and dug right in. Threw me like a slingshot. I’ve got it on my highlight tape if you want to see it.” Nikki climbed up on the fence to sit on the top rail.

  Nikki laughed and opened the other soda. “I think I would actually. That sounds worth seeing.” Jackson shrugged. “What about that one?” she asked pointing to the scar on his face.

  He shrugged again. “Who can remember anymore?” He turned around to lean his elbows on the fence and stare out into the orchard. “So, you’ve got this big fella with you.”

  “Z’ev,” said Nikki. “His name is Z’ev.”

  “Yeah,” he said and Nikki couldn’t tell if he was agreeing or if there was some sort of subtext that she was supposed to be picking up on. “He seems pretty stuck on you.”

  “I’m pretty stuck on him.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Yeah, but, what?”

  Jackson turned around again, a sudden return to his old restless self.

  “But he doesn’t know, does he?”

  “Doesn’t know what?” asked Nikki, feeling her fingertips go icy on the soda can and her palms clammy.

  “He doesn’t really know you. He doesn’t know about things like bar fights and how you keep yourself out of ‘trouble.’ Does he?”

  “He suspects,” said Nikki quietly.

  “And that’s got you worried.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “You don’t want to leave, but you’re afraid you can’t stay.”

  “Yes,” she whispered again. She stared out past the barn, past the orchard and into the purple smudge of mountains. Jackson finished the can in one long drink and emptied out the last dribble into the hay before crushing the can between his hands. Behind her, she heard the screen door slam.

  “He’s coming our way,” Jackson said. Nikki didn’t look around, trying to compose her face into something presentable. Jackson swung around, heading for his hay bale.

  “When the time comes, if you need a place to go,” he said, looking back at her, “my door is always open.”

  “Thought I’d come and see if I could help,” said Z’ev arriving and raising his voice to carry across to Jackson.

  “No need,” said Jackson, waving his hand. “I’m about done for the day.” He finished scattering the hay and shouldered his pitchfork, carrying it into the barn.

  Z’ev glanced up at Nikki and she looked back, seeing the sweetness in his face that he was so careful to hide most of the time.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked frowning and searching her face.

  “Nothing,” she answered. His eyes jumped to Jackson suspiciously and Nikki pulled herself together. She leaned down and kissed him. “Come on,” she said jumping off the fence. “I’ll show you the barn and you can meet Donna and Fidget the Goat.”

  They were on their way back to the house—being head butted by Fidget could only hold someone’s interest for so long—when they heard Nell and Peg arguing.

  “I didn’t hear the car pull in,” said Nikki.

  “She’s got to be told,” said Peg.

  “And I totally disagree,” said Nell. Nikki could hear her feet on the wooden porch steps. She glanced at Z’ev who winked. Nikki smothered a laugh behind her hand.

  “Don’t you walk away from me, young lady,” said Peg, hurrying after her if the quick shuffle Nikki heard was any indication.

  “They really have their panties in a twist over this Jorge situation,” said Z’ev.

  “I know,” said Nikki. “I feel bad. Maybe I should tell them that I know.”

  “You keep claiming that your mom has been a constant thorn in your side, and you’re going to pass up the opportunity to let her suffer a little bit?” Z’ev sighed mockingly and hugged her. “You’re too soft-hearted.”

  “I just like making you think that,” said Nikki, only half-joking.

  By the time they’d followed Nell and Peg into the house, the argument had either simmered down or been silenced by Nikki’s Carrie Mae teammates, who were chattering and clearly dressed for a party. Jane was wearing a sleeveless 1970s polyester dress in a nude beige that, on her very pale skin, looked fantastic.

  “Nikki, what do you think of this dress?” demanded Jenny upon their entry. “Jane, do a twirl for Nikki. I think tans like that always make a person look naked from a distance, but Ellen thinks it looks good.”

  “I think you’re both right,” said Nikki. “I think Jane looks great in that dress and from a distance someone will probably think she’s naked.”

  Jane smirked at Jenny. “Is it appropriate for the party with Donny’s family? I don’t want to be overdressed for a family BBQ. And you know, I’m trying to wear less black.”

  “Ah, well, see here’s the thing about the Fernandez BBQ’s,” said Nikki. “Donny has a very extensive family. And they all have a rather inclusive idea about what constitutes family. And their property is next to a junkyard and the river, so there’s a lot of space. So when they say it’s a family BBQ, what the really mean, is that half the town will be there and the other half will be calling the cops with a noise complaint.”

  “So am I over or underdressed?” asked Jane frowning.

  “Perfectly dressed,” said Nikki.

  “OK, whew. I didn’t want to have to wear any of my own clothes.”

  “God forbid,” said Ellen. “Nikki, that’s not what you’re wearing, is it? She gave Nikki’s shorts and T-shirt a disapproving frown.

  “No, I’m going to change.”

  “Should I change? You guys make me fashion paranoid.” Z’ev glanced at his jeans and T-shirt in the mirror nervously.

  “No, you’re fine,” laughed Nikki. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  But it was several minutes later and Z’ev had gone to change his shirt by the time they all climbed into Peg’s SUV for the trip to the Fernandez house. Jane was carrying a pie because Peg didn’t feel comfortable sending them to a BBQ without something to contribute.

  The road followed the meandering curve of the Columbia and as Nikki drove, her mood alternated between fond reminiscence and annoyed surprise at each change in the landscape that she spotted. Everything seemed to be changing. More development, more houses, more people everywhere she looked. One thing had not changed however, the fat Studebaker standing on its trunk, the front wheels, or what was left of them reaching skyward to mark the entrance to the junkyard. When Nikki saw that, she knew it was time to turn at the next driveway. The Studebaker was more rusted than ever and she could see a bird’s nest now resided in the driver’s side wheel well, but it still stood, right where Crazy Cooter Johnson had planted it. The long gravel driveway led through a field studded with similarly planted cars, sticking up through the long grass, some tilted at drunken angles.

  “What’s with the cars?” demanded Ellen staring out the window.

  “That’s Crazy Cooter’s Junkyard,” said Nikki turning into the Fernandez driveway. “He calls them modern art. If you go further down he’s got a regular junkyard operation, but he says it would be rude to have such ugliness next to the road where everyone can see it. So he puts the cars out for people to look at. Jackson, Donny, and I used to play out there all the time.”

  “That
sounds totally unsafe,” said Ellen. “What if a car fell on you?”

  “Umm, I don’t know,” said Nikki, who was surprised that she had never considered that. “He’s got them pretty well anchored. We used to climb on them all the time. They never seemed tippy.”

  “We used to ride on top of the ATV when Grandpa would load it in the back of the truck,” said Jenny. “It’s funny the things you did as a kid that sort of horrify us now.”

  “Lawn darts,” said Z’ev. “Tiny metal javelins for kids to throw at each other. What could go wrong with that?”

  Nikki parked the SUV next to a low-rider El Camino, last in a string of cars that lined the long gravel drive down to a brown house hidden behind some aspen trees. “I forgot we were going to see Mexicans. I should have driven the Impala.”

  “Nikki!” protested Jane, but only halfheartedly as they began to walk toward the house.

  “What? How is that racist?”

  “It’s stereotyping,” said Jane. “Mexicans do not all like cars.”

  “I’m glad that we have our own personal PC police,” said Nikki. “It makes us unique.”

  “Is that Jackson’s truck?” said Jenny pointing.

  “Yeah,” said Nikki. “Although, how you can tell one jacked-up F-150 from another is beyond me. I think that’s why so many of them have stickers on the bumpers. It’s so they don’t get into the wrong truck at WalMart.”

  “Nikki!” said Jane again.

  “What?”

  “Now you’re redneck stereotyping.”

  “Jane,” said Z’ev gently, “you know she does it on purpose, right?”

  “Does what?”

  “She says non-PC crap just to mess with you,” said Jenny. “Although, that is totally true about the bumper stickers and WalMart.”

  “Nikki, do you do that? And Jenny, stop slandering citizens of rural areas.”

  “Of course I do that,” said Nikki.

  “Rednecks,” said Jenny. “We’re rednecks. And we like trucks, WalMart, and beer. Get over it.”

  “I don’t think,” began Jane, and then they rounded the corner to the back of the house and stopped. The patio of the Fernandez household was strung with party lights and held about two hundred people. In the gathering gloom of nightfall the looming hulks of the junkyard could be seen off to the left and the river glittered in the distance, reflecting the last few rays of sunset. “Oh,” said Jane. “We didn’t bring enough pie.”

  August XVIII

  Running in the Dark

  “Nikki!” shouted one of the people in the crowd.

  Nikki’s head swiveled, trying to spot the source. A tall brunette made her way off the dance floor, swaying slightly. It was a little difficult to tell if Gloria Estefan had been right and the rhythm had gotten her or if it was the rum and coke in her hand.

  “Hey, Jackie! Everyone, this is Donny’s cousin, Jackie.” She embraced the dark-haired girl in the sequined blue top.

  “Donny said you were coming! I said I’d believe it when I saw it.”

  “Why wouldn’t I show up?” asked Nikki.

  “Because you’re all ‘big time, I make out with rock stars’ now.”

  Next to her, she felt rather than heard Z’ev make an annoyed grunt.

  “Yeah, that was kind of a misunderstanding,” said Nikki.

  “I don’t think he misunderstood where his hands were. That guy is super hot.”

  “Jackie, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Z’ev Coralles,” Nikki interjected, trying to divert the flow of conversation.

  “Ha!” Jackie laughed and tipped a little of her drink out onto the ground. “Awesome. Donny and Jackson are over there somewhere.” She waved in the general direction of the bar.

  “Good,” said Z’ev. “I could use a drink.”

  “I’m following him,” said Jenny.

  “Ditto,” said Ellen.

  “I brought pie,” said Jane, looking star struck at Jackie.

  “Jackie, this is Jane,” said Nikki.

  “I like pie,” said Jackie.

  “Jane’s a little bit of a lesbian,” said Nikki.

  Jane looked horrified.

  “So am I!” yelled Jackie, throwing up her hands, flinging more of her beverage around. “This will be awesome—later we can make out. But the real question is, do you know how to dance?”

  Jane looked back as Jackie led her away, and Nikki waved goodbye. “I think we may need to go rescue Jane later,” said Nikki, joining the group at the bar and fishing around in one of the ice buckets for a soda pop.

  “There’s beer on tap and margaritas in the pitcher,” said Ellen, looking up from her conversation with Donny.

  “What’d you do, send her off with Jackie?” asked Donny. “You’re never going to see her again. There’s real booze back here ,too. I found Z’ev some nice bourbon.”

  “I want to play tag later,” said Nikki. “I don’t want to get too drunk.”

  “We’re not going to play tag,” said Donny dismissively.

  “You say that every time,” said Nikki. “And then your dad brings out the flashlights.”

  “Yeah, but we’re all too old and too drunk for that,” said Donny.

  “That’s why I’m drinking soda.”

  “Tag?” asked Ellen.

  “Flashlight tag or jailbreak,” said Nikki. “Out in the car field. It’s fun. We used to do it all the time when we were kids.”

  “No, seriously, we don’t do it anymore,” said Donny. “The little kids aren’t old enough, and the old kids are too old and fat.” He patted his stomach, which was far from fat.

  “Oh,” said Nikki, feeling a wave of nostalgic sadness. “I was looking forward to that.”

  “If you want, you can borrow some flashlights and walk out there though,” said Donny. “I’m sure Dad still has them all prepped up and ready to go.”

  “Maybe. It’s not the same if no one’s chasing you.”

  “Isn’t that the truth,” said Donny, laughing.

  “What are we talking about? Who’s it for tag?” asked Jackson. “I came prepared. I wore tennis shoes instead of boots.” He held up one foot to demonstrate.

  “Are you sure you won’t lose some sort of cowboy points for not wearing boots?” asked Nikki.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty in the bank,” said Jackson, smirking.

  “You guys, we’re not playing tag,” said Donny.

  “What?” Jackson looked at Nikki for confirmation and Nikki shrugged.

  “But I’ve been training for American Ninja Warrior. I was totally going to kick your ass tonight.”

  “That is literally my favorite show,” said Jenny.

  “I built a warped wall in my barn,” said Jackson. “You can try it if you want.” Jenny’s eyes widened as if he had offered her a stack of gold.

  “Yes, but her second favorite show is The Bachlorette,” said Nikki.

  “What? That show is terrible.”

  “I like to make fun of the contestants and throw things at the TV,” Jenny said, glaring at Nikki.

  “That could make it more fun,” agreed Jackson. “But you’d still have to watch it.”

  “The three amigos! Juntos otra vez!”

  “Nikki, Jackson, you remember my dad. Dad these are Nikki’s friend’s Ellen, and Jenny. Jane is somewhere with cousin Jackie.”

  “Nunca podría volver a verla.”

  “Hola, Mr. Fernandez,” said Nikki as he hugged her. “Esta es mi novio, Z’ev Coralles.“

  “Es grande,” he said, shaking hands with Z’ev.

  “He also habla espanol,” said Z’ev.

  Mr. Fernandez laughed. “That’s good. Jackson,” he reached out to shake Jackson’s hand. “Always so good to see you. Thank you for helping my nephew get that job in Calgary.”

  Jackson shrugged. “Any time.” Donny looked from his father to Jackson. “Talented horse people are hard to come by. My friend was happy to have qualified help.”

  “When
did you do that?” asked Donny.

  Jackson shrugged again. “Couple of years ago, when your dad called.”

  “My dad called? Why does no one tell me these things?”

  “Mr. Fernandez, Donny says we’re not playing flashlight tag,” said Jackson, ignoring Donny.

  “You want to play tag? Of course, we can play! I will get the flashlights!”

  “What’d you do that for?” demanded Donny. “Now he’s going to try and roust the whole party.”

  “Good,” said Jackson. “Nikki and I want to play.”

  “That’s right,” said Nikki. “Now pick whose team you’re going to be on.”

  “Oh, come on,” whined Donny. “This is why I hate playing with you guys. I always have to pick and then there’s the running. I hate the running.”

  “You getting tubby in your old age?” Nikki poked him in the side.

  “I think so,” said Jackson. “Tubby and soft. He doesn’t want to lose.”

  “This is ridiculous,” said Donny, batting at their fingers. “I’m not choosing.”

  “OK,” said Jackson. “We’ll pick. I get Jenny and Ellen.”

  “That’s my team! You can’t have my team.”

  “They’re my team now. You can have Donny and Es Grande,” said Jackson.

  Nikki looked doubtfully at Donny and Z’ev. “Fine, but I’m keeping Jane.”

  “That’s cool with me because if you’ve got Jane you’ve also got Jackie.”

  “Damn it!”

  “The tactical errors keep piling up. You are going down, Red.”

  “Why do I feel like we just got picked last in gym class?” asked Donny, turning to Z’ev.

  “Because we just got picked last in gym class,” said Z’ev. “Nikki, this isn’t going to be another paintball situation, is it?”

  “No, because Jackson’s not a whiner like those stock brokers,” said Nikki. “Come on, we need to find Jane. And Donny, you need to help me pick out your most athletic, least drunk relatives.”

  “What happened in paintball?” asked Donny.

  “Some stock brokers got painted with extreme prejudice,” said Z’ev.

  By the time they were all gathered around the red Buick and Mr. Fernandez had set up the judge’s lawn chair and the judge’s margarita pitcher, the teams were fairly evenly divided. A few younger cousins and Donny’s marathon-running uncle had migrated to Nikki’s team, while Jackson had pulled the weight lifting auntie and the spin-class obsessed mother of twins who looked about as competitive as Nikki. Nikki made a mental note to put her down for Carrie Mae outreach. There was no reason not to have a Carrie Mae operative in Kaniksu Falls.