Drew liked working with Liz. She didn’t always agree with him, but once she got past her first questions and decided he was mostly right, she’d usually let him take the lead.
A quick survey of the beach, a quicker discussion, and they put themselves into play. Drew led his sister close to the water’s edge, but not too close. They’d both learned in childhood never to turn their backs on a Scorsi, never to let a Scorsi back them into any kind of corner. They sat on a log, worn so smooth it must have floated in, that was far enough from the woods beyond the sand so no one could sneak up on them and far enough from the water to leave room for maneuver.
Position was one thing, attitude was another. Lizzie sat straddling the log, half-facing the woods, alert but pretending not to be. Drew was facing the lake, casually skimming rocks across its bright surface. Lizzie jabbed her elbow into his ribs and he turned to see Ky emerging from the woods, followed by two of his younger cousins.
It figured. Ky wouldn’t have the guts to meet them alone.
He was grinning smugly, ambling toward them in that way he had: long, loose, gangly, all bones and no brain. “Hey, Coleman! What happened to your arm?”
Billy Scorsi, who was Lizzie’s age, snorted like a horse, and Newt junior guffawed. Newt was only 15 but he looked and acted a lot like his father. He had a big head, and it bobbed on his skinny neck when he laughed. Like a marionette, Drew thought. He was laughing and bobbing now. Billy had always been thick, but he seemed to be going to fat lately, and his frizzy orange hair needed cutting.
“I got bit by a mosquito, Ky. Guess we’ll have to send some big fish to clean out the larvae.”
Billy looked confused for a moment, wrinkling his freckled nose; then he seemed to figure out what Drew meant by fish and larvae and spat into the sand, scowling. He and Newt both looked at Ky, waiting for him to come up with an answer.
Drew kept a scornful look on his face, but he was worried. Three of them. Even with room to move, they could surround and herd him and Liz like dogs with deer. Back when they were nine or so, Ky and a couple of his friends had trapped Drew at the lake’s edge one morning and backed him into deep cold water. He could swim, but all three of them had jumped him and held him under. He’d fought hard, managed to get his face into the air and screamed for help. Luckily, a group of tourists from Redwood had seen what was going on and three big men had pulled the boys off him and brought him back to shore, exhausted, nearly drowned, and humiliated enough to hate Ky forever.
Not the kind of trick anyone was going to play on him twice. He skirted the log and moved a few paces closer to the woods. The Colemans and the Scorsis were now equally placed along the beach and he was still near enough to his sister to work as a team.
Ky took a step closer to Drew. “Yeah, well… that’s big talk, Coleman. But I hear your little sister had to save you from one of the big bad mosquitoes. Is that why you brought her along today?”
Lizzie moved closer to Drew.
Drew laughed. Ky had walked right into that one. “To save me from a mosquito?” Was that Billy growling? What a weird kid. “Looks like you brought the whole pond, tough guy.”
Ky glared. The discussion was taxing his brain. Drew thought it was fun, but he could feel Lizzie getting edgy beside him.
Okay, the mosquito metaphor was turning a little tiresome and he wasn’t sure how far he could stretch it. Time to move on.
“Why don’t we just get down to business?”
Ky agreed immediately, obviously relieved. “Yeah. Why don’t we. My uncle says you want to give us some kind of piece of paper.” Newt Junior nodded. Billy spat in the sand again.
Drew pulled the folded treaty proposal out of his shirt pocket and held it toward Ky. Ky waited. Drew didn’t move. Ky glanced at Lizzie, smoothed his greasy dark hair and leered. Drew felt heat creeping over his neck and face— Don’t even think about my sister, you running sore! Then Ky stepped forward just far enough to grab the two sheets of paper from Drew and backed a few paces toward the log, putting it behind him. His brow furrowed as he read, scratching his scalp. After what felt like five minutes of reading and scratching, he crumpled the sheets and jammed them into his hip pocket. If he’d had his way, Drew guessed, he’d have tossed the treaty at them. But he must have been under strict orders to bring it back.
He swaggered forward again, the two cousins moving with him.
“This is a pile of shit. Everything in there is a lie.”
Lizzie spoke up, still calm. “We don’t lie. Samm and Jo and our mother…”
“Samm?” Ky snickered, looking Lizzie up and down. Bastard. Drew wanted to kill him. “He was born in a hostel. Who knows what kind of dirt he’s got inside him?”
Drew could feel Lizzie trembling at his side. She spoke again before he had a chance to. “He wasn’t born there. He went there with his mother. She died. They let him out.”
Billy growled again. ”You mean he escaped.”
“Yeah,” Ky said, “Escaped. Everybody knows that.” He moved closer to Lizzie and the others followed, the three Scorsis a triangle with Ky at the point. “He’s dirt. And Jo’s a slut. And you’re a whore. And you go back and tell your fat old mother—”
Drew’s breath caught in his throat. He barely had time to take in the last insult before Lizzie’s fist connected with Ky’s nose. Blood poured down his lip and smeared his chin, dripping onto his denim shirt. He stumbled back, falling against the log, blood gushing from his nostrils, tears streaming from his eyes, and pulled a small handgun from his jacket, waving it wildly, blindly, in the general direction of the Colemans. Lizzie got ahead of Billy and Newt, who were aiming themselves at Drew, and kicked Billy in the groin. He fell to his knees screaming. Newt junior pulled a buck knife from his pocket and started doing a cautious dance around Lizzie, that ugly head bobbing. Drew lunged past the howling Billy, pulled the pistol from Ky’s distracted grip and smashed him over the ear with it.
Good. That felt good. Drew could breathe again. Ky grunted and dropped to the ground, his mouth open. But Drew’s roar, ripping from his throat like nothing he’d ever felt before, drowned out whatever other sound Ky might have made. Maybe Ky would stop breathing altogether. Had he? No time to worry about that. Newt came at him with the knife and Drew had to threaten to shoot him before he’d stop. Billy saw the gun in Drew’s hand, stumbled to his feet and ran for the woods, but Newt junior, red-faced with rage, wasn’t retreating. He was screaming obscenities and jabbing the knife at the air in front of him. Too stupid to run, Drew thought. But Drew wasn’t.
Drew stuck the gun in his waistband, under his shirt. He grabbed Lizzie’s arm, yelled, “Enough of this shit!” Lizzie didn’t hold back, she let him yank her away, and the two of them got the hell out of there. They stopped running about halfway back to Blackjack and stopped, leaning against a redwood fence to catch their breath.
Drew had ignored his two-day-old arm injury during the quick struggle with Ky and he was still so flushed with adrenaline that the abused wound didn’t hurt— yet. But he thought he’d felt something tear and there was a small spot of blood on his sling.
Lizzie was gasping for breath and laughing. “That was sooo dark! Drew, wasn’t that the darkest?”
What the hell did she think was so funny? His arm was beginning to throb, then burn, and he wanted her to just shut the hell up.
“Liz! What kind of asshole trick was that? Why’d you start a fight?”
“Hey, Ky’s the one who started it!” Lizzie was grinning. She was going to start laughing again, he knew it.
“But I think I killed him.” Hitting Ky had felt good at the time, but now he was getting scared.
“No, you didn’t. I saw him move right before we ran.”
That was a relief.
“Well, but really, all he did was say something stupid. And all we had to do was look injured and innocent and go away shaking our heads. But no, you have to punch the nickel-ante valleyboy and make him pull a gun.” Lizzie had a
lways been a bit impulsive, and Drew had covered for her more than once. But nothing like this. This was over the line.
“I didn’t make him—”
“And then that asshole Newt. And Billy! Did you hear that spotty freak growling? You don’t want to mess with those guys, Liz. They don’t get over it.”
Lizzie shrugged. “I’m not afraid of them.”
“You should be. And I’m not lying to Mom this time, either. You tell her what happened.”
She glared at him. “Including the fact that you hit Ky so hard you thought he was dead?”
“He had a gun. I had to do something before he shot someone.” That was true, but it sure wasn’t all of it. He knew it and so did she.
She sighed. They were supposed to be trying to fool the Scorsis into thinking they were worried, or at least conciliatory. And breaking Ky’s nose, maybe his head, and Billy’s balls, was pretty far from conciliation. Not only that, Mother had ordered them to report fully and accurately on whatever happened and whatever was said. She’d know if they were hiding something. They’d have to tell her. All of it. She would push until she got the whole story, Drew knew, including the exact insult that had set Lizzie off. Not slut, not whore— fat old mother, that was what had done it.
Lizzie was biting her lip, not laughing any more. It was clear she was as reluctant to face their mother with this story as he was, now that the violent rush was over.
“Well, we don’t have to say we hit them first, do we?”
Lizzie was living in a dream world. He shook his head. “Evasion won’t work. You should know that by now.”
“It’s not evasion! We just don’t have to tell her everything that happened exactly as it happened. We delivered the treaty, after all.”
Always the same. Lizzie would do something risky and then she’d be afraid of Mother’s disapproval. She’d start lying. Loyally, he’d keep silent. Then Mother would find the lie and they’d both be in trouble. More trouble than the truth would ever have brought them. And that had been for little things like staying out after curfew. This was bigger. He wanted her to trust him with missions. He was worried about Lizzie’s unthinking violence, afraid she’d get herself into something she couldn’t get out of, some place and time when no one was there to help. He was enraged that Ky had said what he’d said and acted the way he had with Lizzie, and that Lizzie had reacted as she had and that both of them had made him so crazy he wanted to kill Ky. What had happened to his self-control?
“I’m not going along this time, Lizzie. We screwed up and she has to know what happened. What really happened.”
By the time they got home, he’d worked it out in his head. It was just a fight. Not a smart fight, not a strategic one, but understandable. He’d had a moment’s rage. Everyone did. The guy was drooling at his sister and trying to kill her, all at once! And they’d done their job, after all. The treaty proposal was delivered, and look! Blackjack was jammed with customers again. The merc attack had put only a two-day dent in the business. Lots of people tossing their coins and bills into the slots, braving the tables, losing their money, looking hypnotized and satisfied.
Drew played a slot once in a while, just for fun, but he didn’t understand why people would throw away all their money this way, and some did. Sad for them, but Tahoe was what it was. One of a kind, too. Vegas, over in Rocky, had been burned down by godders long ago, and Reno had shriveled to nothing but a bandit-camp.
But Tahoe was still here. Still beautiful and open for business. He would do anything to protect it from people like Ky. Maybe someday again, if Mother and Jo and Samm had things the way they wanted, Tahoe would be like it was long ago. Elevators rising a dozen floors and more, carrying hundreds of people. The lots full of big cars. It made him feel better to think of the long range. Little mistakes like today, they’d just fade away.
He glanced at Lizzie. She was worried about what Mother would say, but he could tell she didn’t really feel bad about what had happened.
They walked slowly, both of them reluctant to reach Mother’s office. Through the bell-clanging, the laughter, the intensity of customers focused entirely on the machines or the cards or the table in front of them, up the stairs to the mezzanine.
Drew knocked, and they walked in. Jo was sitting on the couch drinking something from a cup. Probably some of Mother’s imported tea. Mother, holding a glass of beer, sat behind her ten-foot desk, squeezed into her oversized chair, big and round and powerful in a purple dress.
“Look at them, Jo. Bad news, I’d guess. You didn’t lose the treaty, did you?”
“No,” Lizzie said. “We delivered it.” Drew waited for her to go on. She didn’t. It had to be obvious to his mother and Aunt Jo that something uncomfortable hung between them. They stood there, in front of Mother’s desk. They didn’t sit and she didn’t invite them to.
Jo laughed, brushing a speck of lint off the front of her blue brocade vest, crossing one strong velvet-knickered leg over the other. “You delivered it, that’s good. Whatever else happened probably won’t matter in the end, kids. But we need to know.”
Lizzie glanced at Drew. He glared at her. She glared back, but capitulated. “It was my fault, I guess. Go ahead, Drew, tell them. You probably remember it better than I do.” He probably did. After all, he’d only been crazy for a minute or two.
He reached under his shirt, pulled the gun out of his waistband and laid it on his mother’s desk. Her eyes widened. Jo jumped to her feet, strode the three steps to the desk, picked it up and turned it over in her hands.
“Nice,” she said. “Fairly new. Where’d you find the weapon?” She took it back to the couch and sat again, looking at it.
Her appreciation for his trophy made telling the story a little easier. Leaving out exactly what Ky had said, he told them there was an insult that started the fight, and explained how they’d defended themselves against the Scorsis’ weapons. He didn’t leave out the part about smashing Ky’s head, even though he really wanted to.
Mother was scowling. “And what exactly was the insult that started this off?”
“He called us names.” Drew hoped she’d leave it at that, but of course he knew she wouldn’t.
“Names? What names?” She would push to the very end. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Lizzie spoke up, finally. “He said you were old and fat, that Jo is a slut and I’m a whore and that Samm is hostel dirt.”
Mother’s mouth twitched, the way it did when she stopped a smile. She shook her big head, the gray curls bobbing, the amethyst earrings dancing and flashing, and shot a glare at Liz.
“Well, Damn, Lizzie, I am old and fat.” She hesitated. “Maybe not so old. And the rest is just words. There’s no place for a fast temper when you’re delivering a peace proposal.” She let the irony of the situation shine from her eyes, but Drew noticed his mother was studying Lizzie’s face, maybe thinking what he’d been thinking about her new quickness to violence.
“I know. I’m sorry. But I thought Ky was going to do something besides just act stupid and I could see him bashing Drew on the arm or, I don’t know… something.”
“But there wasn’t any bashing until you bashed, isn’t that what you’re saying?” Mother didn’t look angry any more. She didn’t look amused, either. Just thoughtful.
Lizzie nodded, looking at her feet. “That’s right. I bashed first.”
Jo was studying Drew’s arm. He followed her gaze. The blood on his sling was obvious, a quarter-real-sized spot of deep red on the white cloth.
“Looks like you popped a stitch, Drew. Better show it to the doc.”
Drew nodded, relieved that she was so calm about it.
Mother was still glaring at Lizzie. “I’m glad you can take care of yourself, Liz. But next time think before you swing.” She ran a thick finger over the smooth surface of a snow globe and her face relaxed.
“Now tell me this. In the heat of battle, you didn’t let slip any information, did you? Did
n’t give them any reason to think that maybe we weren’t serious about the treaty?”
“No, Mother!” Lizzie looked indignant.
“Well, fine then. And Ky took the treaty with him?”
“He stuck it in his pocket,” Drew said.
“Good. I’ll message Newt and make sure he got it.”
“And next time…” Jo began. Mother held up her big hand. Drew wondered what she thought Jo was planning to say. Next time take prisoners? He suppressed a smile.
“Next time, children,” she said, “just deliver the damned message. You’re not emissaries, you know. You’re not negotiating the damned treaties. You’re not fighting any wars for my honor or anyone else’s. You’re just—”
“Couriers,” Lizzie said.
Which, Drew thought, was a very good segué to something he’d been wanting to talk to her about. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to bring it up, standing there in semi-disgrace. But she’d brought it up, in a way. He was nineteen. And he was old enough to do more than carry pieces of paper.
“Mom, can we talk about some more—” his eyes slid toward his sister and away again. She’d be jealous. She might ruin everything by making some demands herself. “—adult assignments for me? I know Samm would have me in—”
“I know. You want to train with Samm’s army. Starting tomorrow.” He knew she didn’t really want him to, not yet.
“Yes. Starting tomorrow.”
She sighed, glanced at Jo, who shrugged, leaving it to her. “Okay, Drew. Now go get your dinner.”
“But not me?” Lizzie interjected. “Can I go tomorrow, too?” Crap, Drew thought. She’s just a kid. She’s got no business even asking. What if Mother changed her mind about him?
“No, Lizzie. We’ll talk about it, but it’s too soon.”
Drew shot a look at his sister. She was scowling at him, her lips tight. He knew one of these days he’d be the target of a tirade— I’m a better fighter, I’ve proved myself, if you’re in the army I should be, too— but for now, she was silent.
Drew and Lizzie left their mother’s office. He headed for the restaurant to do his half-shift, and Lizzie— well, he never knew where she was going unless she was going with him.
Torch Song: A Kickass Heroine, A Post-Apocalyptic World: Book One Of The Blackjack Trilogy Page 10