The Revelations of Preston Black (Murder Ballads and Whiskey Book 3)

by Miller, Jason Jack

  I let my head fall back into the headrest and closed my eyes. In that moment, I felt dry, and warm down to the bone.

  Danicka left town on a dark road that twisted through wide bends. She hit the gas on the corners, letting the tires slip on the narrow grey roads. Through cracked speakers shrill violins screeched over staccato piano. The dashboard threw dim green light up at her face. She tapped a pack of Lucky Strikes against the shifter until a single cigarette popped out of the pack. I pulled it out, rolled it back and forth between my finger and thumb, then pushed the lighter in.

  When the lighter clicked I held it up to her. She leaned into the electric orange glow and inhaled, lips puckered, then cracked her window to blow the smoke out. As I lit mine, the road slanted down steeply. The car accelerated through curves aided by the mountain’s slope. I opened my window to let the moist spring air into the car. I wasn’t afraid.

  “So,” I said, feeling the need to finally say something. “Is this all you?”

  “All what?”

  “The storm and all that craziness?”

  “Preston… That’s silly, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It is silly. Are you a superstitious twelve-year-old?”

  Beyond the glow of headlights I could only see total darkness. And within the glow, only a grey stretch of road that disappeared into velvet blackness ahead of us.

  “Well,” I said, blowing smoke. “I’m ready to talk,”

  She laughed. “I knew you would speak first. But it doesn’t change the conversation. Not in the way you think.”

  “So what do we have to do to take care of all this?” I pushed through the fog in my head by flicking the cigarette out the window. In the glow of the headlights I saw a yellow HOT SPOT sign like the ones we had back home.

  I reached up and ran a finger from her temple to her jaw.

  She closed her eyes and let her head fall to the side. She inhaled deeply, then her lips formed a pout. “Preston, don’t tease me. You hurt me, do you realize?”

  “Things didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped when I first met you. But things changed, didn’t they?” I rested my hand in my lap and turned toward the window. “Besides, you weren’t seeing only me.”

  “Is it fair that I protect myself? If I saw anybody else it was only because I didn’t want to get hurt. I didn’t love Hicks, or any of them.”

  “Like you loved me?”

  “I did. You were special.” She looked at me when she said it.

  “Dani, I saw you with Hicks. I know you were seeing other guys. It’s fine. It happens.”

  “So just like that our time is reduced to sentences. Apologies. Those nights when we shared dark bits of our past are only memories. Dates on a calendar like old birthdays.”

  “I think you know that isn’t true. I think deep down you know that I would’ve dropped everything to be with you if you would’ve given me half of what I needed.” We crossed under I-68, past Listravia Avenue, and where the Sheetz and Burger King in Sabreton should’ve been. When we passed Fawleys I looked to see if I recognized any of the cars in the parking lot, but Fawleys wasn’t there. With a bit of a stutter, I added, “You know that I gave you everything and if I thought for a second you were giving me half as much, I would’ve been there for you.”

  I turned away from the window because none of it made sense. It felt like somebody had superimposed 1980 over my mental map of Morgantown. The cars were old Ford Thunderbirds and Pontiacs. Big cars from the early eighties and late seventies. I thought I knew what was happening here and tried to focus on my job. Letting my mind get away from me, like it had with Jane, would’ve been a typical Preston move.

  Time to be new.

  The stores in the strip malls were old, hanging on at the very edge of my memory. I knew I’d find the Hills department store over in Star City instead of the Target on the other side of the river. There’d still be a Scotto’s Pizza on High Street, but no Black Bear on Pleasant. There’d be coin-operated ponies in front of Kresge’s. I knew Mountaineer Mall flourished, with its Pizza Inn and Murphy’s Mart, and the Lum’s where we’d go for a “fancy dinner” with Pauly’s mom because mall employees got a discount. At Murphy’s, I’d look for new G.I. Joes in the back while Pauly checked out the fish tanks. I said, mostly to myself, “So, what is all this?”

  But my memories drove the car. She didn’t. We headed up Greenbag Road, past the old miniature golf course where the whole scene bathed in the glow of reminiscence. Past the trailer park where Stu lived. Past the middle school. Slipping deeper and deeper into a sea of old photos and smells. Deeper and deeper into memories of family events. Old toys. Birthday parties and Christmas parties in elementary school. Embarrassed to exchange gifts because mine came from the dollar store.

  I knew the farther I got from Simoneaux’s juke joint, the harder it would be to get back to it. So I fought to keep memories of Katy in my head like a trail of breadcrumbs to find my way home, even if I didn’t know whether or not she’d still be waiting.

  With that thought, Danicka skidded to a stop in the big Mountaineer Mall parking lot. It snowed. I heard the Salvation Army bell from over at Montgomery Ward’s. People left the mall with bright plastic bags. Some pushed shopping carts. Some loaded the trunks of their cars. Old ladies with their waitress uniforms sticking out from beneath their winter coats led a pack of mall employees into the rows of Lincolns and Fords. TV salesmen in wrinkled suits. Kids from National Record Mart in leather jackets, laughing. At the tail end of this pack a pair of girls walked arm-in-arm, sharing a cigarette and a Tab. They had big hair and wore acid washed jeans.

  I rolled the window down.

  My mom and Pauly’s mom.

  They laughed as a pair of guys in an old Ford Bronco tooted their horn. When my mom opened the back door I heard David Bowie and Bing Crosby’s “Little Drummer Boy.”

  My mom was pregnant.

  “So what, Dani? So fucking what?” I figured my dad sat in the Bronco and decided I didn’t need to see any more.

  Candy canes and snowmen hung from the light posts. Fat Christmas bulbs did little to warm the night or make it seem any more festive than any other day of the year.

  “Nothing, Preston. I thought you might like to see.”

  “Well, I don’t. I’m here to resolve things and you’re playing head games. And I know it’s in my head. I know it’s a mash-up of my memory and my imagination and I don’t appreciate it.” I made a fist and pounded her dash. “Stop it with the fucking games!”

  “If you are certain that is really what you want.” Dani put the car into reverse and hit the gas. She backed all the way to the end of the row and slid through the wet snow while the National Record Mart gang stared in mock disbelief. She turned the wheel and banged it into first.

  I looked for my mom in the side view mirror. For the smallest part of a second, I wanted to tell Dani to turn around and go back, but pride wouldn’t let me. She used my emotions to manipulate me, just like she had when we were together. Part of me—the part that wanted to see my mom alive, to see her smile, to see the way she interacted with my adoptive mother—didn’t care.

  I twisted in my seat and reached for the door handle, but Dani hit the gas and skidded through the icy parking lot.

  “Please stop,” I said, louder than I wanted to.

  She turned out of the parking lot and sped down the hill to Greenbag Road, ignoring stop signs and traffic lights. Drivers honked as she cut them off. She ran the light at the bottom of the hill and raced down University Avenue toward town.

  “Slow down,” I said.

  She drifted into oncoming traffic to go around the row of cars stopped at the Pleasant Street intersection. I grabbed the seatbelt and tightened it.

  She hung a sharp left and I fell into the door. When we crossed the Westover Bridge, she said with a smile, “Ever wish you would’ve jumped too?”

  “No. Never.” As I thought of all the things she said that nig
ht, my mind struggled to find a way to gain control. But the absinthe wore me down, and I didn’t feel as sharp as I should’ve. All I could come up with, “I’m in love with Katy, and I will always remember that day as the day everything changed. That day we were born as a couple. I think that I gained my freedom that day.”

  She forced a little laugh. “You are not free, Preston. What you call freedom is an illusion, and you will never know otherwise. Never. It is easy to live with your eyes closed, isn’t it?”

  She pushed the gas pedal all the way to the floor. Street lights and lights from store fronts blurred as they swept past my field of view. The car skidded through turns, and I held on because I knew this wasn’t real. Even the transition from pavement to bricks did little to stop this speeding bullet. She had an agenda. A mission. I was just along for the ride.

  After a while, I lost track of Westover’s twists and turns and tried to find something to orient myself. The river was too far away, so I looked for the Coliseum. Then I looked for the interstate. Then I looked up, into the black sky, and could see no light at all. Only the amber glow of the headlights fading to black. I didn’t want to look at Dani, so quietly stared ahead.

  She lit another cigarette. I declined another.

  Mile after mile of black silence yielded to a glow at the edge of my vision.

  Lights finally appeared on the gentle horizon. When the streets narrowed she let the car slow. The roads in this town rarely met at right angles and curved for no particular reason. Old churches that looked like cakes decorated in stained glass and stone and long blocks of apartments stared quietly. She hit the brakes for a big red streetcar that rattled ahead of us on rickety tracks.

  Everything around me moved in extravagant motion. Orange-tiled roofs rested next to tall white spires that extended their arms into space. Patches of light and shadow played with alternating patches of red and orange and stark whiteness. Bold columns held up gold curves bursting open with long white pearls. Every building seemed like a palace that could evoke a vision more potent than any fairytale castle could ever dream to. Lavish statues and concrete bows kept even the straightest of lines from being ordinary. After a few minutes of squeezing through the cobbled streets I fought to think of new words to describe it all. Melodramatic splendor. Anxious. Lavish. Intense.

  “Is this Paris?” I said, figuring if Morgantown, West Virginia, was purgatory, then this must be heaven.

  “The Malá Strana,” Dani sighed. Pointing to the strange little cars parked along the streets, she added, “And the tireless Trabant.”

  None of the cars had drivers. The only people I saw were shadows behind thin curtains. Dark shapes preparing for bed, smoking a cigarette. Golden bulbs burning from the end of the heavy iron lampposts perched on the corners created infinite darkness down every side street.

  Stanger than the Trabants and the emptiness, were the large military trucks I saw at the ends of some of the long streets. They looked black against the orange glow of the city, and were always surrounded by several grumpy soldiers who talked and smoked. One of them took a piss on the black and white checkered sidewalk as we passed. A small cloud of fog rose from the stream of urine.

  On the far side of town, on the other side of a river, an enormous tower rose above the city, like a giant tripod walking across the orange rooftops. Its red lights penetrated the rich blackness.

  “Žižkov Tower. It’s new,” Dani said when she saw me looking. “Fairly new, but the people hate it as if they’ve hated it for a hundred years. Too much the party and Moscow, they say. Too much like a Soviet rocket. Perhaps to remind us they have something we don’t? Some say its only purpose is to jam Radio Free Europe, but I don’t believe them.”

  I nodded, even though I didn’t fully understand. “What do you think?”

  She ignored me.

  “Fuck.” A trio of soldiers wearing high black boots that disappeared into long grey coats stepped around the black chains that lined the sidewalk. She slowed to a stop and they surrounded the car.

  “Where are we?” I said.

  “Quiet.” She rolled down her window and reached for her purse.

  One of the soldiers shined a flashlight in my eyes.

  Dani said something I didn’t understand and shoved a wad of American cash at the soldier standing at her door. She whispered, “I told him ‘kakoj kurs obmyen’—what is the rate of exchange?”

  He gestured to the one standing on my side of the car and shoved the wad into his front pocket. “Pasport?”

  Dani said, “Preston, do you have any cash?”

  I had the rest of our per diem in my pocket, but I didn’t want to give it to her. “No.”

  “Don’t play games.” She shoved her palm at me. “You don’t have papers. They will arrest you.”

  “Are you shitting me?” I couldn’t make sense of her words. “What the hell are you getting me into?”

  The soldier standing to my right tapped my window with the barrel of his assault rifle. His eyes were just slits.

  “Preston!”

  The soldier motioned for me to roll my window down.

  “This is so fucked up, you know that?” I reached into my pocket and gave him all I had with me. About seventy dollars. “Fucking bullshit. Another one of your fucking games.”

  He counted it then stared at me for a long time. I looked up at him, trying to figure out if he wanted something more from me. My heart raced. He would not look away. So I finally lowered my eyes and stared ahead. With that, he laughed and banged the hood twice. Dani put the car into gear. In the side view mirror I saw the three of them converge in the red glow of her tail lights.

  “What the hell? Danicka—”

  “An úplatek. Like a shakedown.” She said it with a casualness that made me embarrassed for even asking. “Ritual is very important to these people. Even for something little, like trying to drive across town.”

  I watched for another minute to make sure they didn’t follow. “Yeah, well if the ritual is so important why am I out seventy bucks?”

  “They want you to be submissive and scared, even if it’s a bluff. They only have power when you have something to lose. That is the most important thing to remember—not everybody has something to lose.” She looked at me very earnestly when she said it. “People with nothing to lose have all the real power. The rest, like us… But they can’t come right out and demand the bribe—that defeats the purpose. You have to recognize that you stand beneath them because they have guns. There is always noise and lights and weapons and uniforms, right? Elaborate pomp and music and thunder and fireworks. The party has its flags, the church has its cross. Symbols to help the powerless make a decision.”

  She slowed to a stop in front of a grand cathedral. White columns topped with green domes and golden crosses stretched a hundred feet into the air. I counted the statues of at least nine different saints perched on the corners that faced the street. Each held a cross or some other ornament made out of gold. Two more saints and a bunch of smaller statues looked down on a pair of red doors.

  “That is why the ritual matters. It is part of the system designed by those with the power to keep the powerless from getting exactly what they want. They slap your wrist for skipping a step, for not following procedure. Submission is created by ritual.”

  A group of children descended the stairs from the church’s front doors. All young girls, all wearing grey coats and red scarves. Some held hands. Some of the smaller girls were carried by nuns in heavy black habits. Danicka said, “We always arrived early to pray the Rosary. Always the same pew, always next to Christ’s face is wiped by Veronica.”

  I knew then why she’d brought me here. She wanted me to see her as a person, to realize her motivations were the same as mine. More than anything, I wanted to see her as that person. But the way she spiritually held Pauly captive, the way she’d hurt me, made it hard to not be blinded by her gesture. Her ritualistic game.

  None of the young girls looked
like Danicka, and for a second I thought she’d meant for me to see something else. The scarves and red cheeks were exactly as she described back in her apartment last year. Small, round faces breathed heavily in the cold air. Danicka smiled as they walked past by the car, one by one. Her eyes followed each one until they passed and just as quickly she looked for the next. If I thought I’d seen her happy back at her little apartment, I was wrong. Here, in the car watching the girls pass, she radiated joy.

  “Is this your home? Prague?”

  “It is.” That I remembered made her smile. “Very beautiful, yes?”

  She only turned her head when a young nun passed. Danicka looked for something in the sky far away and did not turn back again until they’d all turned the corner behind us. She said, “A sestra is not a suitable mother for a child of the revolution. Sometimes I believe I have lost more love than you could have ever known.”

  “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “It’s fine. Love is not just like a hat you can change as the seasons change. Maybe it has been much longer than I remembered since I’d been in love. Maybe I didn’t love you, Preston, but I thought I could.” She put her hand on my knee. “Knowing the dreams I had about you would always only be dreams hurt most of all.”

  “I’m sorry. I truly am.”

  “It’s fine.” She slid a cigarette out of the pack and stared at it for the longest time. Her lips pursed with concentration as the little diesel engine idled into the night. Finally, she slid the cigarette back into the pack and said, “You are free to live as you please.”

  The words rattled around my head. It took a moment for them to slow to a complete stop. Seeing a shift in her tone, I made a move. “Is Pauly? Can I go back now, and tell him he’s free? That he doesn’t have to worry about the promise he made under all that stress?”