After the Rain pb-5

by Chuck Logan

  Kit was up on a chair hunched over the pinball machine, letting her third ball bearing fly into the clattering bumpers and buzzers and flashers.

  “So, what do you think?” Ace asked.

  Kit wrinkled her nose. “It’s okay but I like Age of Empires more.”

  “Age of Empires, huh?” Gordy said, moving up to the machine.

  “It’s a computer game, ancient civilizations at war,” the redhead said, walking up to them.

  Kit nodded her head. “Assyrians have the best ballistas.”

  “What happened to dolls and dress-up?” Gordy said.

  “She was playing it on Jane’s laptop in the car,” the redhead said.

  “Uh-huh, and while she’s playing on Jane’s laptop Jane’s playing on your lap…,” Gordy said softly.

  “Don’t even try to get your mind around it, farm boy; we’ll have to wrap you in duct tape to keep your head from exploding,” the redhead said slowly.

  Ace was impressed the way she thrust her hip and let her hands dangle loose in this great bring-it-on stance. And now that things had calmed down a little he noticed her left ear peeking from her askew layered hair. The lobe was missing, just a lump of scar tissue. Like it had been cut off.

  Sonofabitch! I bet she’s got some stories.

  A lazy morning, lying in bed, smoking, looking at the water-marks on the ceiling…

  “Watch it,” he said. His words were quiet but aimed right at Gordy.

  Gordy was undeterred. He leaned over closer to Kit. “So what’s your daddy do?”

  “He’s got these cabins on the lake. We rent them to tourists.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Kit straightened up, looked around, and thrust her hand toward the window. “He drives one of those sometimes.”

  Across the highway, a rusted white Bobcat was frozen in front of a large pole barn. Chest-high weeds fringed the building and poked up in the trap-rock parking lot. A rusted windmill revolved in the soft breeze.

  “C’mon, honey,” the redhead said, helping her daughter off the chair.

  Gordy moved next to her. “So your husband drives a Bobcat. What is it you do?”

  “Hey.” It was the older guy, who was still hanging around, following the action. He’d come back inside to finish his beer. “Can I get some of that beef jerky?”

  Ace nodded at the customer. He puffed up some. He ordered, “Go wait on the man like you’re paid to do.”

  Wheels revolved in Gordy’s eyes, like he was thinking of challenging Ace. But he decided to wait and returned to his post behind the bar. After squirting a little wolf pee in Gordy’s direction, Ace put a hint of strut in his walk as he escorted the redhead and her daughter out onto the porch.

  When they got outside, the redhead leaned down and kissed Kit on the forehead. “You go with Jane into town and get a motel room. I’ll be along in a little while.”

  There was more cynicism than innocense in the kid’s frown. “Promise?”

  “Go on, scat,” the redhead said. Obediently, the kid went down the steps. They stood on the porch and watched her and Jane get into the Volvo.

  “Now what?” Ace said.

  “According to Officer Friendly’s intervention plan they go in town and get a room. I’ll walk in, see the sights, hook up in an hour or so when everybody’s cooled down.”

  “Well, good luck cooling down in July in North Dakota,” Ace said.

  “You got a point. A girl walking down a hot highway probably could use a lift,” she said.

  “That’s true.”

  She rolled her eyes slowly over the bleached brick facade of the Missile Park Bar. “This is fine and all, but is there anyplace around here to get a drink?”

  “Like, what did you have in mind?”

  Bang. She hit him dead on with a full frontal look. “Surprise me.”

  They were standing absolutely still but Ace could feel them rolling side by side like dice.

  The red Volvo had pulled on the shoulder, Jane leaning out the driver’s side, looking back. She pounded the horn.

  Lyle walked up to the porch and said, “You want to walk or I could drive you around a while and drop you off?”

  “I’ll walk, thank you,” she said.

  “Well, then,” Lyle said.

  “In a minute. Unless I’m breaking any laws standing here,” the redhead asked politely.

  “No, ma’am, but funny you should say that, considering where it is you’re standing,” Lyle said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she said.

  “Long story,” Ace said.

  “Right,” Lyle said.

  Across the highway a heavy-set guy in a long-sleeved black shirt came out of the equipment shed, walked to the road, and yelled.

  “Hey, Ace! What’s the problem?”

  Lyle waved him off. “Nothing. Just talk.”

  “You all right?” the guy yelled.

  “I’m fine,” Ace yelled back

  The guy nodded, peered at the redhead for several seconds, and then retreated back into the shed.

  Ace held out his hand to the redhead. “Ace Shuster.”

  She raked his face with her conflicted eyes and almost smiled. Then she closed up her face, took his hand in hers, and said, “Nina Pryce. Pleased to meet you.”

  She turned and started walking toward the town.

  Ace heard Gordy come up behind him.

  “We gotta talk before you go do anything,” Gordy said. Ace didn’t respond at first, he was very involved in watching Nina stride away along the gravel shoulder. Gordy tapped him on the shoulder.

  “What, her?” Ace shrugged. “She’s just looking for a party.”

  Gordy shook his head. “C’mon, Ace, look at her. She’s way too put together to be some lush.”

  Ace grinned. “You check out that ear? Like it got cut off or something. That’s different. Little skull-and-crossbones action on her shoulder…”

  “I ain’t joking here. Take a look around. Where are we?”

  Ace exhaled. “You’re ruining my morning, Gordy.”

  “Nobody comes here except for weddings, funerals, or to deliver something…” Gordy paused and plucked at his sideburns.

  “Deliver something,” Ace repeated, mulling it. But still staring down the road.

  “Yeah, like say a subpoena, or a warrant, or a wire.”

  “You think she’s a cop,” Ace said flatly. He turned and faced Gordy.

  “Just saying keep an open mind, like she could be some kind of snitch thrown in the mix, kinda off the wall,” Gordy said.

  “How sure are you? Hundred percent?”

  Gordy scrunched up his face, thinking. “Well, the kid…”

  Ace nodded. “One hell of a novel approach for a cop outta Bismarck, I’d say. The kid was good. I’m keeping an open mind. But the kid was for real.”

  “They got satellite cameras that take pictures from space, man. They got infrared over the border now. They can come up with a kid.”

  Ace turned and squinted down the road. He could just make out one last flash off the sweat on her shoulder blades. “An undercover? Why now? I’m not breaking any laws, am I?”

  “We been through this with the state cops. Now that the volume is scaled way down, you’re not drawing any heat. Hell, man, you’re up for sale. You’re history.”

  A shadow passed behind Ace’s eyes. “What about you? You and your biker friends up north? You guys and that meth shit are all over the front page.”

  “Very funny.” It was a sore subject.

  “Answer the question.”

  Gordy shrugged. “I ain’t into nothing that would involve you,” he said slowly. “Not specifically.”

  “Not specifically, huh? That sounds like splitting hairs, like lawyer shit.” Ace measured out each word. “If she’s a cop, she’s your cop, not mine.”

  “I’m telling you, this little thing I got on the side is nothing that involves you.”

  “Right, half your drive
rs still think they’re running Dad’s cargo. And Dad just handled booze, not that bulk ephedrine you buy wholesale up in Winnipeg, that you can’t get down here cross the counter…” Ace cut Gordy with his first real sharp look of the day.

  Gordy folded his arms over his chest, took a step backwards.

  Ace continued. “I ain’t dumb. Same couriers. Same transport-different contraband.”

  Nina was about two hundred yards down the road now, going past the Alco Discount, coming up on the Dairy Queen. Distracted by Gordy, Ace had lost the fine detail. A pickup went by, slowed to take a look. It occurred to him that some other enterprising shit-kicker was going to give her a lift, buy her a drink…

  “Hundred dollars says she ain’t a cop. But she sure is something more than she’s letting on, and I just gotta find out what that is. So I’m gonna go along with her,” Ace said abruptly, making his decision as he reached in his jeans for his truck keys.

  “You never bet,” Gordy said.

  “Hundred bucks.”

  “You’ll lose.”

  “Maybe. Probably. So how about another hundred on the side?” Ace grinned slow, with just a drop of the old nasty in it. “Like, what intrigues me is-how far will an undercover go? She goes all the way, we’re even.”

  “Ace, you ain’t thinking very clearly.”

  Ace shrugged and headed for his Tahoe. “What the hell. Not like there’s a whole lot else going on.”

  Chapter Six

  Ace walked around the back and braced himself as he came up on his new Chevy Tahoe. A crease ran the length of the right fender and petered out halfway across the door. He had no idea where or when or on what he’d left the paint last night.

  Four minutes later he eased up beside her, then stopped the Tahoe a few feet ahead on the shoulder and zipped down the window. When she came up even with him and stopped, he spoke up.

  “So, you still want to get a drink?”

  Nina pursed her lips and regarded him warily. “Let’s you and me get something straight. I appreciate you helping out back there. But don’t get your hopes up. After what I been through in the last twenty-four hours, the next guy I fuck is gonna be wearing so much latex he can be dive certified…”

  “Whoa. Hey, I’m here to listen,” Ace said, marveling. Must be some gearbox she had in there, the way she could speed shift between full-bore hot and cold.

  Five minutes later they were settled in a booth in a dark freezing lounge back of the bowling alley, off Langdon’s main drag. They studied each other over a pair of double gin and tonics. Her choice.

  “Good summer drink,” Ace said diplomatically.

  “I kinda want to ease into it,” she said.

  They clinked glasses. As Nina took a sip, she noticed that the waitress who had brought their order was standing at the cash register, very involved in girl talk with two women in shorts and halters who were real suntanned and would never see thirty-nine again. All three craned their necks to get a look at Nina with a certain proprietary interest.

  “Friends of yours?” Nina jerked her head at the trio.

  Ace frowned. “I was hoping to hear the story of your life, not mine.”

  Nina shrugged. “I went to high school in Ann Arbor. Put off going to college to join the Army.”

  “That where you got the tattoo?” Ace pointed to her shoulder.

  “No, I did that on a dare, in Minneapolis, after the Army, during my brief bartender career.”

  “Why brief?”

  She took a long pull on her drink. “Because I met this guy and put off going to college a second time to marry him.”

  “And you been with him ever since,” Ace said.

  Nina finished her drink and emphatically thumped the empty glass on the table. “Not now I ain’t.”

  “Look,” Ace said. “The way I see it you can call your husband and have him come pick up your kid and continue on with the lovely Jane. Or you go back with him and give your marriage another try, which is better for the kid.”

  Nina’s eyes flashed up. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Kids from intact bad marriages do better than ones from broken homes.”

  She regarded him carefully. “You figure that out on your own?”

  “Nope, this counselor told me and my wife that to keep us from splitting up. Didn’t work. But my mom stayed with my dad, which probably kept me and my brother and sister from turning out even worse than we did. What about your folks?”

  She shrugged. “They stayed married but he was never there when I was growing up. He was in the Army.” She chewed a lip, shook her glass so the ice at the bottom made a chilly rattle. Then she looked away. “And then one day he was really gone.

  “Missing, they called it. Twenty years later, the Vietnamese turned over his remains: 1995.” She held up her empty glass until she had the bartender’s attention, then she turned her smoky eyes back on Ace. “So those are my two choices?”

  “Or you could try something different.” Ace said, trying his best to look reasonable and helpful.

  “I just tried something different.” She looked him over like a piece of merchandise when she said that, and Ace couldn’t tell if she was deciding to buy or walk away.

  Then, after a few seconds, she said, “You’re staring.”

  “Tell me what happened with your ear.”

  She shook her head. “Nah, not yet. Maybe when I know you better. Try again.”

  “Okay. Pryce, is that your husband’s name?”

  “Uh-uh. His name’s Broker.”

  “So you didn’t take his name.”

  “And he didn’t take mine.”

  “O-kay. What about your pal Jane? That hatchet thing around her neck,” he said, exploring.

  Nina smiled. “You ever hear anybody call a woman a battle ax?”

  Ace thought about it. “Sure, my Aunt Bea.”

  “Was Aunt Bea a sweet soft thing, dependent on a man?”

  “More like leather braid soaked in vinegar. Outlived two husbands.”

  “Uh-huh. See, Jane says it’s one of those clues buried in the language. That ax is called a labrys. In ancient Greek paintings, like on vases, there’s pictures of the Amazons carrying them in battle. A lot of lesbians and feminists are into the symbolism.”

  “I can dig it,” Ace said, warming to the gin and the conversation. “I’m sort of into Greek mythology myself. You ever read The Myth of Sisyphus?”

  She squinted, thought; decided how to play it. “The guy chained to the rock. The birds come every day to tear out his guts.”

  Ace shook his head. “That’s Prometheus.”

  “Okay, then Sisyphus is the other guy with the rock. He pushes it up a hill over and over as punishment.”

  “Bingo. The original uphill battle. I got this theory that Sisyphus is really a German-Norwegian farmer who’s trying to make a go on eight hundred acres up on the border by Hannah,” Ace said as his best grin spread over his face.

  “You’re turning out different than I first expected,” she said frankly.

  “Yep. I’m not like the others.” He held her gaze for a moment. “So Jane’s an Amazon, huh?”

  Nina sniffed, retreated back into her foul mood, and sounded irritated. “Jane wants to be a lot of things. Since I’ve known her she’s wanted to a poet and a caterer but what she really does is wait on tables in this restaurant in Minneapolis.”

  Ace squinted, thoughts revolving just behind his eyes. “So how’d you two…”

  Nina jerked the corner of her lip up in a sort of smile. “That turns you on, huh? The two of us…”

  Ace shrugged.

  Nina laughed. “Men don’t mind the idea of two women in bed together. You know why?”

  Ace couldn’t help smiling. The way she rolled over you like a wheel, mostly hard parts but now and then enough of the soft showing through to keep you interested. “I got a feeling you’re going to tell me,” he said.

  “Damn straight. It’s ’cause you can see yourself sa
ndwiched in there with them, huh?”

  Ace felt his face get hot. “I guess.”

  She leaned across the table, her face softening, lips going mobile, probably from the whiskey. “But if I told you it turned me on to think of you and a guy naked together…”

  The way Ace sat up straight, narrowing his eyes, put Nina on guard. Hit a nerve. But she pushed on, wagged her finger and said, “Double standard, Ace.” The joke withered in his cold stare and she was more careful now, signaling that she read the palpable heft of danger in his body language. She sat up primly. “Moving right along,” she said.

  He studied her for several beats. “So what you gonna do, Nina Pryce?”

  She tipped her eyes toward the bar. “Maybe I’ll go back to tending bar right here. I could talk about you with the sun-fried sisters.”

  “I don’t think you’re up to all the sky, wind, wheat, barley, canola, and flax,” Ace said.

  “You ever read that play Streetcar Named Desire? Tennessee Williams?”

  Ace shook his head. “I read a lot of Louis L’Amour once.”

  “Well, in Streetcar there’s this woman named Blanche who winds up alone, and she says how she’s always relied on the kindness of strangers.”

  “So that’s me, huh? The kind stranger?”

  Nina raised her shoulders and let them drop. “Maybe kind isn’t the right word. I just hope you’re not mean…Your friend with all the hair…”

  “Gordy.”

  “Yeah, Gordy, he strikes me as being on the mean side. I get the feeling he doesn’t like women.”

  Ace watched her carefully; the way she cast it out there like a lure. Was this where she set the hook? Gordy probably had her pegged right. Some kind of cop. “Maybe he just don’t like you,” he said.

  “But he doesn’t even know me.”

  “You ready for another drink?” Ace said as he swirled the ice in the bottom of his glass.

  “Yeah. Something stronger.”

  They drank together and began the slow dance, bold with their eyes, less and less cautious with their words as one drink followed another and the tabletop became a field of interlocking water rings. They were coming up on the moment of truth.

  “So what are we doing here? You and me?” Ace said.

  The smoky eyes came up. “You can buy me drinks all night, Ace Shuster; don’t mean I’m going to give it up to you or anybody else for a long time.”