Long Black Curl

by Alex Bledsoe

  The old man nodded.

  “Other people are going to die. You’ll have plenty of sins to eat very soon. But once that’s done, once everyone agrees that I’m in charge, things will be peaceful again. And this time, there won’t be that undercurrent of tension between that six-fingered old bastard and a damn little girl. This time the peace will be solid.”

  The sin eater said nothing. He just looked into her eyes, and Nigel noticed that Bo-Kate looked away, unable to hold his gaze. She got up, wiped her hands on her jeans, and said, “Come on, gentlemen. Back to the truck. Places to go.”

  Byron bent down and said, “You have no idea how lucky your sorry ass is tonight.” Then he kicked the man once more and followed Bo-Kate up the hill, into the woods. Nigel brought up the rear, fighting the sick feeling that now roiled inside him.

  * * *

  In the truck, Nigel drove with his hands tight on the wheel. When Bo-Kate put her hand on his arm, she said, “Wow, what’s with the death grip?’

  “I’m in new moral territory,” he said without looking at her. “I’m learning my bearings as I go.”

  “You having second thoughts?”

  He risked a glance at her, but her face was shadowed. “Second thoughts about your reign of terror? Of course not. I’m still on your payroll.”

  “And in my bed?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” She leaned close and said softly, “Although you might have to share me with Byron. How do you feel about that?”

  “I don’t own you; therefore, I cannot share you.”

  She laughed. “You always know what to say, Nigel.”

  He smiled. But he thought to himself, If only that were true.

  27

  Bo-Kate rose on the bed and pushed her hair out of her eyes. She was naked, and so was Byron Harley, his big body stretched out on the guest room bed. He’d dragged the sheet over his bad leg, although truthfully she didn’t mind it at all. But he was not rising to the occasion despite her best efforts, and that was starting to bug her. If she knew anything, it was how to give a blow job, both metaphorically and literally.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, trying not to sound impatient. She’d wanted to make love to him since she was twelve, and to have him this close but apparently uninterested was not something she could tolerate.

  He didn’t look at her. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

  “Feeling guilty about beating up those two guys? Look, they—”

  “It’s got nothing to do with them.”

  Suddenly she understood. “Your wife?”

  “Her name is Donna. And yeah. Her, and Harmony.”

  “You can’t tell me you haven’t fooled around on her before. You’re a musician, for God’s sake.”

  He glared at her, and his face turned red. “I don’t think you want to get into this.”

  “Byron, she’s not around anymore. You can do what you want.”

  His massive right hand tangled in her hair and jerked her face close to his. “What do you know about it?”

  She gasped, though not from pain. She loved the sense of being overpowered, because it happened so seldom. “If it’ll make you feel better to hit me, go ahead.”

  He shoved her away to the end of the bed, almost toppling her onto the floor. “I don’t want to hit you. I’m sorry, Bo-Kate, it’s just … I mean, when I cheated on her before, I always told myself I’d make it up to her when this whole rock-and-roll thing ran its course. I’d be the best husband in the world, the best father. Only now … I’ll never get the chance. So cheating on her, on them, actually feels worse now that she’s gone. Does that make sense?”

  Bo-Kate knelt on the bed. “It does. You’re a good man, Byron. You don’t deserve what happened to you.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “But you also have to move forward. You can’t reach back in time, you know. Not even the Tufa can do that.” She sat back on her heels and arched her back, presenting herself to him as submissive and feminine. “Let me help you. Let me show you what this world has for you.”

  He looked her up and down. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him begin to respond.

  She slowly, gently cupped her breasts, barely touching the skin, and closed her eyes. It had no effect on her, but she knew very few men who could resist it. Then she slid one hand down between her thighs.

  Through her eyelashes, she saw him now fully aroused. When he reached for her, it was all she could do not to laugh in triumph.

  * * *

  When it became clear that Bo-Kate was not returning anytime soon—and the sounds that bled through from across the hall left no doubt—Nigel slipped out of bed, dressed quietly, and went out into the hall. He thought seriously about jumping into the SUV and fleeing this whole disturbing scene, and if he’d been certain it would free him from Bo-Kate’s wrath, he might have done it. But of course he could never be sure of that. If what she told him was true, on top of the things he’d seen for himself, the only place he could ever be safe was by her side, doing her bidding. That thought terrified him the most.

  He saw light at the bottom of the stairs and went down to find Tain seated at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a romance novel. As always, she seemed dressed for a hot summer’s day.

  She looked up with a little half smile. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

  “One could ask the same of you.”

  “I have to be at the diner by five.”

  “May I join you?”

  “At the diner?”

  “At the table.”

  “I reckon. Bo-Kate asleep?”

  “She’s entertaining her other guest.”

  “And she didn’t include you?”

  “I’m not sure a threesome is in my job description.”

  “Mm, too bad. So what did you do today?”

  “We drove around and met some people.”

  “Marshall Goins, I assume. Heard he turned up dead.”

  Nigel had not been in the city hall, and so hadn’t seen what occurred. Still, he suspected, and now it was confirmed. “He did?”

  Tain nodded. “Heart attack. They say, at least.”

  Nigel felt a flood of relief. Natural causes were no one’s fault. “That’s unfortunate.”

  “But not a big surprise, not when Bo-Kate’s around.”

  “Do lots of people drop dead of heart attacks in her vicinity?”

  Tain did not smile when she said, “Lots of people die around her, yes.”

  Nigel looked at the scratched, ancient tabletop. “I’d appreciate you keeping this between us, Tain, but I’m having serious second thoughts about our purpose here.”

  “Don’t have the stomach for a shock-and-awe campaign?”

  “No, not really. My skills are administrative and logistical. And my relationship with Bo-Kate was founded on beliefs that have proven not to be true.” He paused. “I admit an attraction to powerful women, and when we first crossed that line between business and personal, I found it incredibly exciting. And surprisingly easy to maintain. But now…”

  “You’re in it up to your neck, aren’t you?”

  “I am. And I fear I may drown in it. And that isn’t something I want.”

  “I wish I could help you, Nigel. You seem like a nice guy.”

  “For a ‘colored boy’?”

  She took his hand sympathetically. “No, you seem like a nice guy, period.”

  “Thank you. But I fear that is no longer the case. And I truly fear things may get worse.”

  She bit her lip thoughtfully. It was one of the sexiest things Nigel had ever seen any woman do, ever. Then she said, “I know someone who might be able to help you.”

  “And who is that?”

  “I can’t say. I need to check with this other person first. But if I’m right, I’ll connect the two of you.”

  “It will have to be soon. Whatever Bo-Kate ultimately has planned, it’s coming to a head. One can’t
accumulate too many bodies without attracting attention.”

  “I’ll get back to you later today. What’s your cell number?”

  He took a card from his wallet and slid it to her. “If I sound a bit nonsensical when I answer it’s because your cousin is listening and I want her to think it’s a misdial.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Thank you.”

  She bit her lip again. “I wish we had time for you to do that properly.”

  28

  The Hang Dog Diner was packed with its usual morning regulars, and Tain stayed busy refilling coffee, taking orders, and avoiding impulsive butt-grabs. The other waitresses—heavyset, dour matrons already tired of life and love—looked at her askance, but knew better than to say anything. Tain wasn’t deliberately courting this attention; it just came to her, especially from the non-Tufa men who didn’t understand what she was. The women may not have known either, but they did realize it wasn’t deliberate, she didn’t encourage it, and however annoying it was, it wasn’t her fault. Certainly the girl worked as hard as they did.

  Tain watched the door for Snowy. She needed to connect him with Nigel as soon as possible, but he hadn’t returned either of her calls, and she didn’t have a computer to discreetly e-mail him. He had every reason to suspect she was calling for a repeat of their afternoon at the motel, and was clearly avoiding her. That made her sad, and a little angry, but she kept reminding herself that it actually wasn’t about that.

  “Hey, hot stuff,” a voice said as she picked up the coffee carafe for another round of refills. She looked to see Junior Damo seated at the counter.

  “Hey, there, Junior,” she said neutrally. “Want some coffee?”

  “Only if you stick your little finger in it to sweeten it.”

  “Junior, I’m really busy. What is it you want?”

  “Your cousin’s staying with you, ain’t she?”

  “Which cousin is that? I’m related to damn near everyone in the county, including you.”

  “You know which cousin I mean. Who’s that big ol’ muscle man she’s got with her?”

  “Some musician, that’s all I know.”

  “I doubt that, but it ain’t important. Tell her I want to talk to her. Alone, without André the Giant.”

  “Why would anybody want to talk to you, Junior?”

  “Just tell her.”

  “If I see her.”

  He stood up and headed out the door. He passed Snowy on the way in, and they each nodded a greeting.

  Tain came around the counter and quickly grabbed Snowy by the arm. “Sit at the counter, I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  She made her round with refills, cleaned up a few plates, and brought him a cup of coffee. She leaned close and said, “That black boy with Bo-Kate wants to talk to you.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s finally caught on that she’s crazy.”

  “Or he’s doing exactly what she told him to do.”

  “I don’t think so, Snowy. He’s scared.”

  “Or he’s a good actor.”

  “Do you not trust my ability to tell when someone’s lying?”

  He’d never seen her so nonsexually serious. “No, I trust you.”

  “Then will you just talk to him?”

  “Sure, but somewhere neutral. Have him meet me at the Pair-A-Dice tonight around seven.”

  “I’ll do the best I can. Thank you.”

  She put her hand lightly atop his. They both looked into each other’s eyes, each feeling the same thing but not realizing it. Then he got up and left. Tain gazed after him until one of the other waitresses nudged her roughly in the back. Then she made her way to the kitchen, where she took out her cell phone and dialed the number on Nigel’s card. Junior Damo’s message to Bo-Kate would be the excuse she needed to tell Nigel to meet Snowy.

  * * *

  When Junior got back home, Loretta threw open the door and yelled, “Some woman called here looking for you!”

  “Yeah? What’d she want?”

  “That tiny little pecker of yours, that’s what, ain’t it? Who is she, Junior? Is she knocked up, too? How many little bastards you got running around by now?”

  Junior pushed roughly past her and went into the house. He turned on the radio in the kitchen, loud, which made Loretta screech that much louder.

  “I won’t have your whores calling the house, Junior! You want to see them, you make arrangements on your cell phone, not here! You hear me?”

  “They can hear you in China,” he said as he dropped into a kitchen chair. Coming home now reminded him of how it felt to be smacked in the head with a two-by-four, which had happened to him when he was fifteen.

  Loretta leaned on the counter and clutched her belly. Junior said, “Are you all right?”

  “What do you care?” she snarled through her clenched teeth.

  The radio played “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.”

  “You need me to call Granny Rogen?”

  “Is that all you can ever ask? No, it ain’t time yet, he’s just kicking me because he knows I’m mad. He gets mad, too, when I do.”

  “That’ll be great,” Junior said, anticipating a lifetime of everyone in the house always yelling at him.

  The phone rang again. He picked it up before Loretta could and said, “Hello?”

  “I hear you’re looking for me, Junior Damo,” a woman’s voice said.

  “Is this Bo-Kate Wisby?”

  “Who else? I tried calling earlier, but your wife or sister or hound dog for all I know started calling me names. I’m not even sure what some of them were.”

  “She gets going. She’s eight months pregnant.”

  “Well, congratu-fuckin-lations. My slutty cousin says you wanted to talk to me. So talk.”

  Why did she always corner him when he was off-balance? He’d worked out the perfect speech in his head, but he couldn’t do it with Loretta glaring at him. “Not over the phone. Meet me at the Pair-A-Dice tonight.”

  She snorted, “Why the hell would I do that? What could you possibly have to tell me that I need to know?”

  “You’ll find out when you get there,” he said.

  “I might see you there, then. But don’t get your hopes up.”

  He glanced at Loretta. “I haven’t had any hopes in a long time.”

  The call ended. He turned to look at Loretta, expecting another vicious tirade, but instead she just stared at him in half amazement and half horror. “That was Bo-Kate Wisby?”

  “Yeah,” Junior said.

  “What are you doing talking with her?”

  “Maybe I’m going to fuck her,” he said impatiently.

  She grabbed him by the arms, and all the contempt and spite were gone when she said, “Junior, please, don’t get messed up in this. We’re gonna have a baby in less than a month, I can’t do it alone.”

  He pulled her hands off. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  “Don’t you know the stories about what all went on before? And look at what happened to Marshall Goins. That woman is a monster.”

  “Well, I’ll wear a rubber, then.”

  “This is no joke! I know you ain’t screwin’ around on me, and I know you ain’t meeting’ her to screw her. That’s—”

  That set him off. “If you know it, then why the hell have you been giving me all this shit about it?”

  She began to cry. “Look at me, Junior. I’m the size of a goddamned Volkswagen. I’ll end up looking just like my mama, and she weighs two hundred pounds. Then you will start screwin’ around on me.” She sank into a chair.

  Junior just stared at her and numbly took a seat at the table. All the weeks of her accusations and viciousness had left him unable to comfort her, so they sat in their chairs, him slumped, her sobbing, neither making any real effort to reach out to the other.

  * * *

  Bo-Kate went into Byron’s room. He sat on the edge of the bed, his leg brace on the floor besi
de him. He was strumming idle notes on his guitar. He looked up when she entered.

  “When do we leave?” he said.

  “Not today. Today we just stay around here. Let the word spread. Then tonight, I have to go meet somebody. He’s an idiot, but he’ll be useful. It’ll get word to the right people without me having to spend days driving around.”

  “Can’t you use those magic phones?” he said dryly.

  She laughed. “Believe it or not, a lot of the people around here are more primitive even than you.”

  “I could take that personally.”

  “Aw,” she said, and reached out to touch his cheek.

  He grabbed her wrist. She winced and pulled back her hand, but couldn’t get free. He said, “Don’t patronize me, Bo-Kate. I’m out of touch, not a moron. I will catch up to this world.”

  “I know you will,” she said, and tried again to pull away. “Let me go, Byron. Please.”

  “I’ll sit in this room today. But tomorrow, you better have something for me to do, or I’ll hitchhike into town and take care of business on my own.”

  “I will, Byron, I promise.”

  He glared at her, then let go. She jumped out of reach as she rubbed her wrist. It was one thing to manhandle her in bed, but a whole other thing to do it like this. Venomously, she said, “Don’t ever do that again, Byron.”

  “Or what? You’ll kill me?” He snorted. “You Tufa have already done that. I’m a fucking ghost, I just haven’t dropped over yet.”

  “Don’t talk that way. You can start over here. Make a new family. No, you won’t forget your old one, but it’ll make you treasure this one that much more, right?”

  “With you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You think it’s that easy?” he said, and gazed back down at his guitar.

  “I didn’t say it would be easy. I just said it was possible. I was an exile, too. I know a little of how you feel.”

  He looked up at her. “Did you ever have kids?”

  “No.”

  “Then you have no damned idea how I feel.”

  He hummed along with his song, a tune Bo-Kate didn’t recognize. She backed out of the room and closed the door. When she turned in the hall, Tain was standing right there. Bo-Kate jumped.