by Cassia Leo
“So do I.”
She pinched her lips, staring at the bloodstained section of his shirt. “You need me to tend to that?”
“Nah.”
“We done then? We through here? My job, you know.” She fixed her gaze behind him.
Dane sensed someone in the hall. “Yeah. All done. See ya ’round town.”
She bent down to reclaim more of the stuff on the floor, and he turned. Dickhead manager lurked in the hall.
“You all right, Darlene? Need me to throw this fucktard out on his head?”
Darlene didn’t answer, and Dane pushed past the man for a second time. His arm stung like a mother, and another trickle along his elbow warned him that the wound wasn’t closing up. At least Darlene hadn’t been trouble. A respectable reaction. No wailing.
Once outside, he slammed his foot on the kick-starter and backed out, not sure where to go next. Clean up this arm, for sure. See what was going on. Maybe drive up to the sorry excuse of a clinic they called a hospital to see if it had to be sewn up.
Dane mentally calculated how much money he had on him, and how much was in his account. No telling what stitches would cost him. He’d tapped out quite a bit of his cash moving to Holly, losing his deposits in Texas for breaking his lease, not to mention closing out stuff on his mom. Ryker had helped out some on that, but still. She’d had to be buried, the rent house cleaned out. He hadn’t even known what to do with all her stuff, so he shoved it in a storage unit.
He pulled up to a curb before he realized where he’d gone. The perfume shop was closed, but only just. He could see the figures of Stella and her boss moving inside. He shouldn’t involve her. Bobby Ray was bad news. There could be a backlash. And he hadn’t even talked to her since the tower. Maybe she hated him too.
But she’d seen him and rushed to the door, bells jingling as she struggled with the lock. He swung his leg over his bike, again feeling the bite of the cut. He’d been through a fight or two, banged up, teeth knocked loose, nose broken, bleeding in a hundred places. But never knifed. Dane guessed he should count himself lucky that Bobby Ray hadn’t stuck it between his shoulder blades.
Stella saw the blood right away. “Oh my God, what happened?” She grabbed his good arm and dragged him inside. “Should I take you to the hospital?”
“Maybe I can wash wounds to pay for it.”
Stella didn’t crack a smile. “Beatrice! Come quick!”
Dane tried to stay casual, but truth be told, he was feeling a little woozy. He sat on a satin bench as Stella fussed over him, lifting his arm. He felt wetness again.
“It’s still bleeding,” Stella said. “But I can’t see anything.”
Beatrice closed in behind her, enveloping him in a dozen scents. Rose water. Vanilla. She must have been trying on every perfume in the shop.
“Let’s wet it down,” she said, and disappeared behind the curtain again.
“You going to tell me what happened?” Stella asked.
“Switchblade got up on the wrong side of the bed.”
Stella punched his shoulder, sending a wave of pain cascading from elbow to wrist. He didn’t flinch.
“I’m serious. Accident or intentional?”
Beatrice returned with dripping white hand towels. “This is going to sting.”
The pressure of the cold cotton against his arm made everything go black for a second. He leaned forward, and Stella caught him. “Dane?” she asked. “You with us?” She sat him up again. “Bea, we have to take him in. I think it’s bad.”
“Hold on a sec,” Beatrice said. “Let’s take a look.”
The cloth pulled away, and Dane breathed a bit easier. “Not pretty,” Beatrice said, “but most of it is crusting over. Looks like the bottom of the cut is the deepest. Where someone stuck it in and went up.”
“WHO?” Stella demanded. “Who did this?”
Dane shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s over.”
“Darlene? Did that bitch cut you?” She’d gone red all over, cheeks, neck, and chest bright with color. He bet if he could have seen it, she’d been the same on the tower.
“Not Darlene.”
“Then her asshole brother. Bobby Ray.”
“I get in lots of fights,” Dane insisted.
Beatrice applied a clean cloth, causing him to suck in another breath. “This’ll teach you to change your ways.”
Dane shrugged. “Nah.”
Stella began pacing the shop, grasping at the ends of her hair. “I knew they’d found out about the other night. I knew a fight was coming.” She halted. “But this is uncalled for. He could have killed you.”
“He just wanted to be an ass,” Dane said. He looked back at Beatrice. “Verdict? Will I live to fight another day?”
Beatrice opened a first-aid kit and unfurled a roll of gauze. “I’ve got some butterfly bandages in here. I think that’ll hold the wound. Just don’t lift anything heavy for a couple days.”
She sprayed him with something cold and acrid. He forced himself not to flinch, keeping a smile for Stella. God, she was riled. He tried not to love it.
“Tell me EXACTLY what happened,” Stella insisted. “Every detail.”
“It’s not important.”
“Dane. By God, you will say it.”
He shrugged. “Bobby Ray came into the Watering Hole with a chip on his shoulder. We came to a couple blows, nothing major.”
“This wasn’t a blow,” Beatrice said, applying the first bandage. “Nice clean cut.”
“He came up behind me. I guess he had a small blade on him.”
Stella clenched her fists, eyes sparking like a welder’s torch. “He knifed you from BEHIND?”
“Stell, it’s fine. I know to watch my back. I probably deserved it. Small towns are, well, small.”
Beatrice wrapped the gauze around his arm. “Gotta keep that dick in line, mister. Everybody sees everything in Holly.”
Stella bloomed scarlet yet again. He could watch that all day. She whirled around and stalked through the curtain.
“It was bad, I know,” Dane said.
Beatrice tore off a bit of medical tape with her teeth. “Stella’s taken a shine to you. Make sure you deserve her.”
“I’ll try,” he said.
“More than try.” She flattened the tape on his arm. “I’ll go fetch Stella. Roll your bike in here for the night. You shouldn’t ride until tomorrow. It’ll tear open the wound. She’ll drive you home.”
Dane nodded. Probably not a bad idea to have his Harley hidden away somewhere anyhow. He didn’t need syrup in his carburetor.
***
12: Brothers
HEADLIGHTS flashed over Stella as she and Dane sat in her grandmother’s car in front of the perfume shop. She had no idea what to do, so they’d stayed there right through sunset, mostly silent. Stella occasionally asked him about his arm. She was worried. And mad. And not sure how to react to the town’s newfound dislike of him, which was partly her fault.
She’d been the one to prance over to Joe’s garage with her fake nails and screw-the-bitch attitude. “I’m to blame here,” she said. “I knew Darlene’s family history.”
“She lives with her brother too?” he asked.
“He stays in a travel trailer parked in the back.”
“That rotten thing? It doesn’t look safe to sneeze on.”
Stella drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Yeah.” She’d been in it, once. Bobby Ray had been on her list. They’d gone out for a spell, and one night she decided to let him lead her there. But he wasn’t worth the things he had in mind. He had a mean streak, and that went all the way to the bedroom. She got the hell out of there.
He’d been pretty ugly about it for weeks. As if calling her a tease and a prude and a Pollyanna had any effect. She’d known not to rile him, though, and kept her distance. That’d been two years ago. He seemed cool about it now.
Dane stared out the window at the blinking “OPEN” sign reflected in t
he shop’s window from the opposite side of the street. The diner. “You hungry?” he asked.
“Maybe we should lay low for a bit,” Stella said. “Let everyone find a new topic for gossip.”
He exhaled in a rush, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “Okay.”
“I should probably take you home.” She’d wanted to just sit there, to be with him. He hadn’t asked why she never put the key in the ignition. But people were driving by, and eventually someone would notice. They had to go.
The car started with a quiet hum.
“Joe sure tuned that engine pretty,” Dane said.
“He always took a shine to Grandma Angie. Everyone thought they’d get together, being so many years since my grandpa died.”
“Why didn’t they?”
Stella backed out of the spot. “My mother disapproved.”
“And your grandmother just let it go?”
“She did.”
Dane jingled the chain on his hip. “How is she?”
“We got a good visit in yesterday. Made some bracelets.” She cut herself off. No need to tell him she’d made the triple-strand for him. She hadn’t worn it on the job. It felt too new, too precious yet to be scrutinized by others. Lots of people knew she made them—Janine, her mother, a handful of boys who had lasted long enough to tell. A new one would be very revealing about how she felt.
“I’m sorry you’re going to lose her.”
“I am too.”
She drove the back streets to the line of duplexes where most all the transplants lived. People rarely sold a house in Holly, only when someone died. New ones never seemed to get built. And the occupants of Renters’ Row never stayed around for long either. A “For Lease” sign always seemed to hang somewhere along the road.
“Which one?” she asked. “I’ve never been to Ryker’s place.” For that she was grateful. No way to seduce a man if you’ve already done his brother.
“Third one down.”
“You going to get your own eventually?”
“Might. See how Holly fits.”
“Not great so far.”
He turned to her, gray eyes just visible in the streetlight. “Depends on how you look at it.”
Stella turned back to the windshield, staring at Duplex C. She’d been around a number of sweet talkers. Real slick ways. Opening doors. Acting all gracious. Compliments flowing like melted cheese. Most of them were doing it without an ounce of sincerity. And to more than one girl.
And here she was. Another one. Not quite as smooth, maybe. But obviously he’d gotten Darlene on a string. Maybe she should stay far away.
Dane unbuckled his seat belt. “You want to come in? Looks like Ryker’s out.”
“Yes.”
Stupid. She’d meant to say no.
Dane opened his door, letting in the buzz of cicadas and the crisp night air. Someone should bottle the smell. Night Breeze. Dark-purple bottle with etched letters.
“You coming?” he asked.
Another chance to say no. But she tugged the key out of the ignition and slid it into her purse. “Lock the door,” she said to Dane. “I don’t normally, but tonight…”
He nodded, pressing down the button.
They crossed the dirt yard, weeds springing up like a bad-hair day. Stella tripped on an overturned pot.
Dane caught her arm. “Sorry.”
He fumbled with the lock and pushed open the door. Stale pizza and the smell of old dishwater accosted her. “Sorry again,” he muttered.
He kicked clothes around to make a path to the sofa. Something small might have scurried, but Stella didn’t flinch. She was used to boy sloth and wasn’t any sort of neat freak. Cockroaches didn’t kill.
“Wanna sit?” Dane asked. “I have beer. Maybe some hard stuff.”
“I think some hard stuff,” she said. This day had been too much. Worse yet, the ugliness promised so much more ahead.
Dane disappeared through a doorway, and a light kicked on. He rummaged around, opening cabinets. He located a glass, then moved to the other side, out of sight.
Stella leaned back on the sofa, trying not to feel squeamish about what might have occurred on its cushions. She pictured Darlene there and grimaced. Not usually the jealous sort, this invasion of envy made her squirm.
Dane returned with two glasses filled with something clear.
“Been a busy place?” She smacked her hand on the couch.
He frowned.
So yes. She needed the drink more than ever.
“We broke it off clean,” he said suddenly. “Right after the run-in with Bobby Ray.”
“You and Darlene?”
“Yeah, I drove to the dealer.”
“Bleeding?”
“Yeah.”
She accepted the drink and clinked her glass against his. “Here’s to being single.”
He swallowed, an incredible gulp even to her, and she could drink most people under the table. Easier than answering, but she took that as a good thing. Maybe he didn’t consider himself on the market, just out of the triangle. Suited her.
She lifted the glass, immediately overwhelmed by the medicinal smell of bad vodka. She gulped and drew it away quickly.
Dane walked off again, down a hallway this time. After a moment, music came on, a radio station. A DJ squawked something unintelligible, and heavy metal blared from speakers strung on the wall above her.
Then hissing. He was switching to something else. First country. She smiled against the cool glass. No way. More hiss. Pop hits. Not him either.
Another hiss. Let’s see, what would he hit next, classical?
Sure enough, he tuned it in, popping his head around the corner. “This okay?”
She nodded, and he took off again as a smooth ribbon of violins flowed from the walls. A cabinet opened and closed with a mouse-like squeak. At least she hoped it was the door. She slid off her shoes and pulled her feet onto the sofa.
He returned with a pale yellow sheet, more wadded than folded. “It’s clean,” he said, spreading it on the sofa.
Stella stood to let him tuck it against the cushions.
“I sleep here. Fabric’s kind of rough on its own.”
She compared the length of the sofa to his height. “You must hang off the edge.”
“Close enough. And cheap.” He shrugged.
She settled back down again. “So what should we do about Bobby Ray?”
“Ignore him. He’ll get bored with it.” Dane stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, the gauze glowing faintly in the light from the kitchen.
Stella wanted to snuggle into his side, but resisted. “You could file a report with the sheriff.”
“No good. The bartender threw me out. Told me I wasn’t the regular.”
“Carmen threw you out?” The town had closed ranks already.
“Yup.” Dane picked up his glass from the overturned crate that served as a coffee table and downed the rest of his drink. “That bad?”
“It is. They’ve sided with Bobby Ray, and that’s rare. Did she know he’d cut you?”
“She told me not to bleed on her bar.”
Stella sat up on her knees, anxious and jittery. “It’s ridiculous they’d default to him without knowing anything. I hate this town.”
“She had no reason to believe I hadn’t done something to deserve it.” He ran his thumb along her arm.
She pulled away. “This is serious! You won’t be able to do anything in this town. Do you know how many outsiders have been run out?” Hell, half the guys she’d slept with.
“Stell, it will be all right. It’ll die down.”
“It won’t! I’ve lived here all my life!”
“And weren’t you about to leave?” He reached for her arm again, and this time she relented.
“I am. I will. You too, if you know what’s good for you.”
“I think it’s okay. Joe likes me. Beatrice likes me. And you.” He slid his hand to that sensitive spot inside her elbow. �
��That’s enough for me.”
She relaxed against him. She hardly knew him. Really, she should walk right out. Let it go. But he’d split with Darlene. That was something.
He pulled her head to his shoulder. The music washed over them, simple, emotional, pretty. She didn’t listen to much classical. Maybe she should. It was calming.
The door flew open, smashing against the wall. The metal doorstop snapped and sprung across the room.
Dane jumped up, leaving Stella to fall against the cushions.
Ryker barreled in and grabbed Dane by the shirt, shoving him backward. “What the HELL have you gotten yourself into?” He snatched Dane’s arm, assessing the bandages. “I spend a year here trying to avoid this pissant town’s bullshit, and you wreck it all in a day?”
Dane stepped back, knocking Ryker loose from his arm. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
Ryker whirled around, noticing Stella. “And you had to bring the problem over here?”
Before Stella could say anything, Dane had already landed a punch to Ryker’s jaw.
“Son of a BITCH!” Ryker rushed forward, tackling Dane. The glasses flew off the crate onto the carpet.
Stella stood on the sofa, ready to jump on Ryker. “Dane! Your arm! Stop it!”
The brothers rolled on the floor in a tumble of legs and arms, grunting, elbows landing in bellies. They knocked over a TV tray loaded with beer bottles.
Stella jumped off the sofa, kicking at the brothers with bare feet. “Stop it! Stop it! You should be on the same side!”
Ryker rolled onto his back, staring up at her. “You should have stayed out of this.” He turned to Dane, both of them breathing heavily. “You should have kept your dick in your pants.”
Stella stepped over Ryker, kneeling down to assess Dane’s bandage. It had come loose, and a bloody spiral rolled off as she unwound it. “You’re bleeding again. We’ll have to start over on this. I think you’re going to have to get stitches after all.”
“Screw that,” Dane said, tugging the gauze tight around his arm. “Screw all of it.” He sat up, forearms on his knees, head down. “This is so fucked up.”
Ryker had his arm thrown over his eyes. Blood trickled from his nose. Stella nudged him with her foot. “What the hell happened? You know that Bobby Ray stuck Dane from behind, right?”