Leave a Trail

by Fanetti, Susan

  “Just leave me alone.” His voice was rough with bile.

  Maybe once, she would have done as he’d said. But a lot had happened to Adrienne in the six months she’d lived in Signal Bend, with Badger, and she had changed. She had a hard edge on her heart now, and a strong steel in her spine. It didn’t even occur to her to back off—and it was that moment when she realized how much she had changed. Her hand, which had been shaking with the fear of being hurt, steadied. And she got angry.

  “No. I’m not leaving you alone. You’re not alone. You shouldn’t be alone today. And you don’t get to push me away anymore. You don’t get to sit on your butt in the middle of our kitchen and tell me to leave you alone. What kind of jerk would I be if I walked away right now and left you hurting? Is that who you think I am?”

  His gorgeous eyes were bleak and bleary, shot with red, but they met hers. “You never cuss.”

  “What?” The statement derailed her ire.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss—‘cept one time, when we were fucking. Why don’t you?” His words were slow, as if he was too tired to be really interested in the topic, but his eyes had sharpened as they held hers.

  “I don’t know.” She really didn’t know why she didn’t swear. She never got offended when other people did—and she was surrounded by people who swore liberally. But those words just didn’t come to her when she was putting words together. Her parents hadn’t sworn, either, come to think of it. And she realized she’d never thought of it before. “Is it important?”

  He shrugged stiffly. “I guess not. It’s you. It’s just different. Guess I wonder if it makes you think I’m less because I do.”

  “What? That’s crazy. You need me to cuss? Fuck, cunt, shit, asshole, cocksucker, pussy, cock, dick, bullshit, cunt—”

  With a low laugh, he put his hand up. “You said that one already. Okay, sorry. I don’t need you to cuss. Sounds weird. But it was pretty hot when you said ‘fuck’ when you were coming. Only did it that once, though.”

  “I’ll try to throw one in there every now and then.”

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He took her hand, linking their fingers together. “I love you, Adrienne. I’m sorry I’m so fucked up. I really am, too. I need to shut my brain down. I need it so bad, I’m going crazy. I haven’t wanted to score like this in months.”

  She scooted closer. “I’m here, Badge. I’m always here for you. You don’t need that stuff. You don’t. You’re strong, and you’re not alone.”

  “Can we just go back to bed? I feel like shit.”

  “Absolutely. You go on. I’ll take Hector out and get him fed. Then I’ll be with you. Okay?”

  “Yeah. Thank you.”

  She’d expected him to need sex, but he was too tired and ill, so when she came to bed, he only pulled her tightly to him, wrapping her up in his body. She could feel his tension slowly easing, and when he was asleep, she let herself drift off, too. When Hector fussed from the floor next to the bed, she reached down, careful not to disturb Badger, and brought the pup up. He immediately settled in her arms, and they three slept until the sun was high in the windows.

  ~oOo~

  Later that day, Adrienne sat on a stool at Dragonfire Ink and watched Badger have his Horde ink restored—or replaced, really. He’d still been badly hung over when they’d woken up, but he had the appointment on this important day, and he would not think of rescheduling. And he wanted her with him. So they dropped Hector and his new crate off at the clubhouse for the Prospects to watch over, had a big, greasy late breakfast at Marie’s, and drove to Millview.

  There was almost nothing left of his original ink. Tony, the tattooist who did most of the club’s ink, was starting from scratch. Despite Tony’s protests that he should wait until his scars were older, that the ink might not take as well and he would probably need retouching soon, at least, Badger wanted it done on this day, exactly one year after he’d been so badly hurt, and he wanted the same ink he’d had—the word HORDE in large letters arcing over the top of his chest, and the rampant horse down the center. This time, though, he wanted the words Never Say Die inked under the horse.

  Because his chest was so badly scarred, and the scars were still fairly new, the ink was more complicated. Though he’d been unable to convince Badger to wait, Tony had gotten him to revise the design, incorporating more intricate detail rather than so much solid black, which apparently would have done poorly on the scarring. They’d blocked the whole day, with a one-hour break for supper. Badger had so few pain receptors left on his chest that he’d been comfortable for the four hours Tony had so far been working, and there was no reason to think he would not be comfortable for the entire sitting.

  All of the Horde who were experiencing this anniversary had recently begun renewing, replacing, and adding to their ink, though Show had not started work on his back yet. Badger hadn’t told Adrienne absolutely everything about that day or about the business that made it happen—and she thought she was glad not to have the details he left out—but as she sat and listened to Tony and Badger talk about the scar and the ink, she filled in some blanks. The bad guys—the cartel—had intentionally destroyed their ink, especially their Horde ink, but not only that. Now that she was listening to Tony and Badger discuss the work Tony had been doing on Len and Show, too, she understood the damage to their bodies better. All their scars. Show’s Daisy tattoo torn from over his heart. She’d seen the damage; she had just never understood the intention before. Knowing the intention made it even more horrible.

  The act of replacing his ink seemed to be pulling Badger out of the morning’s dark thicket. As the day went on, he strengthened and became more talkative, and by the time Tony called for a break and had his shop girl run for sandwiches and drinks for everybody, the mood in the shop had gotten lighthearted.

  Adrienne had never before been inside a tattoo shop. When she got bored or uncomfortable sitting on the simple stool at Badger’s side, she wandered around, looking at the art and doodads on the walls and shelves. There were two other tattooists in the shop, one of whom, Red, had several appointments for smaller work during the day, and the other, Karen, seemed to be either having a day where she had intended to focus on other things—sketching, deep-cleaning her station—or just didn’t have any appointments. She did a drop-in tattoo for somebody, but otherwise she appeared to be both busy and not working.

  The drop-in had selected an image from a hinged contraption on one wall, sort of like a giant book, the pages poster-size sheets in metal frames. Each ‘page’ was full of simple images—cartoon characters, small tribal designs, hearts, flowers, anchors, animals. Adrienne learned that those were ‘flash’ tattoos, and that none of the people in the shop had much respect for people who’d put flash on their skin. Adrienne thought some of the images were pretty and aesthetically pleasing, with nice lines. She might have chosen one for her first tattoo, before she heard the snarky things Red and Karen said about the drop-in who’d gotten a small tiger cub over the top of her right breast. Tony hadn’t said much, but he’d nodded in agreement while Red and Karen riffed.

  Karen had just finished the flash when they broke for supper, so they were still talking about it while they were eating. Curious, Adrienne asked. “Is it the tiger that you don’t like?”

  Karen gave her a look that said she wasn’t so sure Adrienne had business talking to her, but she answered, “It’s not the tiger. I don’t mind at all doing a really badass beast, with lots of detail. It’s that tiger, which is the same damn tiger that every fucking tattoo shop in the entire world has in their flash book. Why the fuck put something on your skin that hundreds, maybe thousands of other people have exactly the same?”

  “But why have the…flash at all, then, if you don’t want to do them?”

  Now Karen just glared. Adrienne decided that she didn’t like her much at all. Tony laughed, choking a little on his roast beef on rye. “Quick money, darlin’.” He turned to Karen.
“And who are we to judge how people want to express themselves, right?”

  Red, a tall, skinny guy with a long, red beard, a red buzz cut, and far more freckles than Adrienne—so many, in fact, that from a distance, his skin simply looked tan under his own ink—asked, “You got ink, girlie?”

  Adrienne shook her head.

  “No? Not even his ink?”

  “Careful, asshole,” Badger muttered.

  “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to overstep.”

  She knew what they were talking about—Lilli had Isaac’s ink, Tasha had Len’s, Cory had Havoc’s. Shannon didn’t have any ink; Adrienne didn’t know why she wasn’t wearing Show’s. She knew what it meant, but she and Badger had never talked about it. They hadn’t really talked about the future, though she felt sure that they were both thinking long term. The word ‘forever’ had been murmured or whispered more than a few times. She looked at Badger, who was eating a sandwich and drinking a Coke, sitting on the table he’d been lying on while Tony worked. He was bare-chested, his new, half-finished ink dark and shiny. He looked back at her, swallowing a bite and bringing his soda can to his mouth. They didn’t speak.

  When Badger didn’t respond to him, Red shifted uncomfortably and then addressed Adrienne again. “Well, if you get ink, don’t get flash. Flowers, animals, whatever—all that’s fine, but put some thought into it. Ask your artist to draw it for you. You’ll get better work, something unique.”

  She nodded, but she hadn’t really heard his advice. She was too preoccupied with the question of her and Badger. It felt important that they were living a life that they had not defined yet in any way.

  ~oOo~

  When she woke the next morning, she was not alone in bed. Badger had gotten quiet again after they’d left the tattoo shop, and he’d dropped her at home and gone to the clubhouse alone. She was asleep, Hector curled on her pillow, before he got home. But he was with her now, awake, trailing his fingers through her hair, over her shoulder, down the new skin on her right arm. It made her feel a little self-conscious when he touched her scars, even lovingly like this, but she was getting used to it. He touched them a lot.

  He noticed that she’d woken. “Morning, beautiful.”

  “Morning.” She rolled to her back, and he shifted a little to make way for her without moving out of contact with her. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Okay. I’m sorry about yesterday.”

  “Don’t be. I understand. I’m glad you’re better. How’s your chest?”

  “Fine. Don’t really feel it.” He brushed his hand over his t-shirt—it was a gesture he made often, a swipe from his shoulder to the bottom of ribs and back. He’d worn a t-shirt to bed, and the white cotton had taken on a faint Rorschach impression of his new tattoo.

  She caught his hand and brought it to her lips. “Are you spending the day at the B&B today, or do you have club stuff?” Even though the B&B was only in the planning stages of the rebuild, the barn had not been burned, and Badger was still taking care of the horses and goats.

  “I want to run over for a couple of hours, deal with some paperwork, work with Spirit a little, and check in on Weasel.”

  “I wish you’d let him stay with us at night.”

  “He’s a working dog, babe. Not a pet. He lives there, where his work is. Anyway, he’d go crazy in a house.”

  She was still sad to think of him sleeping alone in the barn every night. “Well, Hector is a pet.”

  The pup was still on the bed with them. Badger ruffled his ears. “Yeah, that’s clear. You know, he’s gonna get too big to sleep with us.”

  Adrienne shrugged, unwilling to contemplate her sweet little pup becoming a giant dog, and Badger laughed.

  “Okay. Anyway, Kenny’s on all day today, and there’s not much to do with the B&B closed, so I can be free before lunch, if nothing comes up with the club. You have plans?”

  “Just the usual—hanging out with Shannon and the twins, under Double A’s watchful eye.”

  “It’s supposed to be nice today. How about I pick you up and we go for a ride? Maybe go car shopping?”

  Still mourning the loss of her little Beetle, Adrienne had not yet wanted to replace her. She hadn’t felt a pressing need for a new car. She wasn’t working yet, and she had a bodyguard. It wasn’t like Badger was going to let her wander off for a joy ride on her own.

  “A ride would be nice. But I don’t want to look at cars yet.”

  His brow wrinkled, but he didn’t reply, except to lean down and kiss her—a claiming kiss, loving but not gentle, his lips firm on hers, his tongue filling her mouth. She was breathless by the time he pulled back.

  He brushed his thumb over her wet mouth. “Okay, then. Just a ride.”

  ~oOo~

  When he came to Show and Shannon’s to pick her up, just before noon, he had a smallish box, wrapped in solid blue paper.

  “What’s that?”

  “For you.” His grin wide and proud, he handed her the box. She opened it, sliding her finger under the tape.

  A new Nikon digital SLR camera. A step up from the one she’d lost in the fire. Adrienne stared at the box in her hands.

  “That okay? I got the receipt and everything if you don’t like it. There’s a camera shop in Springfield. They have lenses and filters and all that, but I didn’t understand most of what the guy was trying to sell me, so we can go back, and you can get a camera you like better, or different lenses, or whatever. I just…you always have a camera with you. As long as I’ve known you.”

  She stared at the box, entirely overwhelmed, so much that she couldn’t even lift her head.

  “Adrienne? Babe? Did I fuck it up?” He put his hand around her left arm and squeezed lightly.

  The concern in his voice broke her trance, and she looked up. “I love you.”

  His brow smoothed out, and he grinned again. “I love you, too. I did okay?”

  “Better than okay. Perfect.” She stepped into his embrace, clutching her new camera between them.

  ~oOo~

  Leaving Hector at Show and Shannon’s to play with his brother, Max, Badger took Adrienne and her new camera for a ride. He took them far out, riding over an hour, before she tugged on the front of his kutte to get his attention. He leaned his head back a little so she could tell him she had to pee. He nodded and made the next turn. About ten minutes later, he pulled up at a little market that seemed to be entirely isolated from any other human life.

  The building could have come off the lot at a movie studio, straight out of a John Wayne movie or something. Bare wood boards, aligned vertically, weathered to grey. A covered porch, low to the ground, with split logs for a railing. Hanging from the porch eaves, swinging gently in the light fall breeze, was a simply-lettered sign in black and white that read Malone’s Market.

  There was an actual horse actually tied to the porch by the reins of her bridle.

  A weathered picnic table sat out front, near a huge old elm with a tire swing hanging from a thick branch.

  “What is this place?” She took her helmet off and handed it to him.

  “Malone’s. It’s cool, you’ll see.”

  “How did you even know it was here?”

  “I ride a lot, babe. Riding helps me think things out. I probably know every road and building for more than fifty miles around home.” He held his hand out to her. “Bring your camera in. I don’t think Buck’ll mind if you want to take pictures.”

  She got her knew camera out of his saddlebag and let him lead her into the market. As they stepped onto the porch—three old rocking chairs on one side, a rough-hewn table and two chairs on the other—their feet made the distinctive clop of walking over old boards. A sound common to every western she’d ever seen. And she’d thought Signal Bend had been caught in a time warp. Adrienne felt like they’d lost almost two hundred years when Badger had pulled onto the skimpy gravel of the Malone’s lot.

  The wooden screen door squealed when Badger pulled it open. With a hand
on the small of her back, he led her into the store.

  “Oh. My. God.” On instinct, she lifted her camera.

  “Hey, Buck. How’s it goin’?”

  A tall, deeply wrinkled old man with darkly ruddy skin and a short shock of snow-white hair looked up from behind the counter, where he was pulling something from the case. “Badger. Good to see you. It’s goin’ like it always goes.”

  “You mind if my lady takes some pictures of the store?”

  “Reckon that’s okay. Not sellin’ ‘em or nothin’, though, yeah?”

  Badger looked at Adrienne. She shook her head. She had no one to sell them to. She just wanted to remember what she was seeing.

  “No sir. She just likes the place. This is Adrienne, by the way. Adrienne Renard, Buck Malone.”

  “Hi, Buck.”

  Buck dropped his head in a courtly nod. “Young lady. Let me know if you need somethin’.”

  “I will, thanks.”

  The first thing that greeted them was an ancient soda cooler—a big, red chest with the Coca-Cola label emblazoned across the front and a bottle opener built into the side. She lifted the lid—it was operating, and cold steam wafted into the air. “There are actual bottles of soda in here!”

  Badger laughed. “Yeah. It’s a soda chest.”

  “I didn’t even know you could still get bottles like this!”

  Adrienne closed the lid and looked around. The store was dimly lit, a few bare bulbs in the ceiling augmenting the natural light from the windows across the front and along one side. The floors and walls were the same rough-hewn wood of the exterior. The other side wall was shelving from floor to ceiling, and the center of the space was taken up by rows of tables with shelving built on top. And barrels. There were barrels clustered in one front corner. Full of…nails? Wow.

  The shelves along the wall and in the center were stacked with jeans, plaid and chambray shirts, bandanas, and other kinds of fabric goods, and then canned goods and boxed foods. There were shelves of identical work boots. A topper in the center was stacked with cowboy hats and trucker caps. Another was paper—stationery, envelopes, old-fashioned ledger books, greeting cards and postcards.