by Shelly Frome
But try as he may to offer a harmless profile, it was still no go. Under the lowering gray sky, barely dressed in their signature fringed jackets with their shirttails hanging out, their tiresome routine consisted of glancing down at Josh who stood waiting below the loading platform, taking turns dangling the keys to the truck and haggling over the upshot.
“Well now,” said Bud, the more muscular of the pair, “question is, can it be?”
“Sure could,” said Travis, the gap in his teeth more prominent than ever. “That new look of his ties it. Freshly shaven too. Ol’ Darryl could be right. There’s more to Billy’s flip-floppy nephew than meets the eye.”
“No way. Josh here can’t possibly cut it,” said Bud, trying to keep up his end but, as usual, lacking Travis’ quicker wit.
“Yeah,” said Travis, grabbing the keys away from Bud and pocketing them. “But then again, don’t forget he upped and quit on us only a few weeks back.”
“Then enlisted or something?” said Bud. “Went undercover? I don’t buy it. No government agency is that hard up. Besides, wouldn’t give him time to fill out an application, not to mention go for an interview.”
“But you know what Billy says. ‘Just ‘cause you’re paranoid, don’t mean they ain’t out to getcha.’”
“Okay, guys,” Josh finally butt in. “Game’s over, time’s up. Just give me the damn keys.”
“Oh, is that right?” said Travis, staring directly down at him. “You wanna get serious, dude, let’s get serious. Why’d you drag us out here this early since you only got the rest of the run you copped-out on to finish? And that’s just for openers.”
Travis looked around as if waiting for his point to sink in and then continued his spiel. “Moving on. How come you go from looking like trailer trash but still spouting them big college words so Darryl—a flake we only seen but maybe once around here—figures you are up to no good. Up to such no goddamn good he drives all the way up, comes busting in giving us all kinds of hassle? And last, but not least, back to observation number one. How come you ditch all the grunge accumulated through months of slackerdom and appear at the crack of dawn looking so squeaky clean? Not at all the laidback loser we all know and love, plus edgy and—”
“Getting a little downright testy,” said Bud, joining forces by Travis’ side. “That ain’t like you at all. Travis is right. I think we could use an explanation right about now.”
There were a number of things Josh could’ve said. But getting as edgy as accused, he spouted whatever came off the top of his head. “Fine, great, terrific. If you guys would use your brain for a second, you’d realize my string has run out. I am not about to wind up in another shelter or crawl back to my dad or my pushy ex or have my mom dote on me like some misguided child. So, if the two of you will just lay off, I can finish my rounds and have some spare time to regroup.”
“Meaning what?” Travis said, genuinely seeming interested.
Still off the top of his head, Josh came back with, “Maybe chucking my flip-floppy ways. Check in with the Southern Studies Department at Ole Miss, that’s what. Which, if you guys care to look at a map, is clearly on my route. I check in looking cool, like somebody they might want to hire instead of a deadbeat some security guard won’t let past the gate.”
“In this economy?” Travis said, still gazing down in rapt attention. “That takes networking, dude. That takes incredible luck. That takes an in.”
“Bingo. You got it. I check back with Hunter Cobb. Do it exactly in time for the Christmas break and see if he might use me as a stringer for the The Morning Star. Last time we talked he was more than impressed with my credentials and travels down all roads of life. Thought I might fit the bill as a newshound which he deems a vanishing breed.”
Josh had done such a good job rattling off this bunch of half-truths, even Bud started to buy it. “Okay,” Bud said, “I say it figures.”
Reluctantly, Travis said, “I guess. Truth to tell, good ol’ Josh here ain’t capable of much else if you discount the ‘all roads of life’ bullshit. And from what I seen yesterday, Darryl’s got a bad case of brain-lock and motor-mouth to boot.”
“Brilliant deduction,” Josh said. “Are we through?”
Holding onto what passed as a deadly serious stare, Travis said, “All right, bro. Let the record show we are giving you the benefit of the doubt. But if it proves otherwise, if your newshound gig comes back to bite us, believe me, you don’t want to know.”
Travis tossed down the keys. Josh snatched them in mid air, latched the cargo door, hopped into the truck’s cab and fired up the grinding old engine. Without giving the bedraggled duo a second glance, he pulled away and threaded the truck down the rutted alleyway. Making a U-turn at a deserted intersection, he headed back toward the junction of Interstate 78 with a mind to floor-it to make up for lost time.
Rolling past Byhalia, Mississippi, he considered the prospect of reviving his image as an extension of his new tack. Calling on Hunter Cobb again as someone Cobb could take seriously. In Cobb’s rumpled beige corduroy suit, peering through his rimless glasses, linking up with the University’s digital archives and databases—not to mention other sources and devices plus lecturing--it was a wonder he had any time to himself. If Josh could convince him that he too was coolly focused, get him to put out a tracer, come up with some intersecting point . . .
. . .
With his mind racing on, Josh couldn’t help getting way ahead of the game. Thinking that when all was said and done, there might just be an opening, a way Josh could reverse his downward trend and come on board. Hooking up with The Morning Star, that provocative weekly that hadn’t yet succumbed to the Web. After all, Cobb’s parting words were, “Now you keep in touch, you hear? I mean, you never know.”
Approaching the exit at Holly Springs, Josh snapped out of it. “Whoa, mister. Let’s keep your own dubious prospects out of it.”
He slowed down, eased onto the now familiar Route 4 traveling east, and braced himself for the possible realities. There was no further foreseeable hitch in arriving at Cody’s a good fifteen minutes before LuAnn would be opening shop. That was a given. The question was, how and why did Alice figure on getting there “first thing?” Where had she spent the night? And what shape would she be in? And what about Darryl? Would he be content to call it quits and go back to hawking his illicit stock in the boonies, listening to the loudmouth pundit on the radio, telling customers his sorry jokes? Would the few-words-guy just go along, figuring Alice was too addled to be of any concern? But most of all, what in the world would bring her back here when she was so desperate to find “a ticket out”?
These questions preoccupied Josh for the rest of the ride, even as he reached Church Street, turned down Walnut, past the cinderblock sheriff’s department and jail and a slew of vacant lots till the minute he slowed by the vintage gas pumps. He made a left and pulled over on the side-street lane. Keying on the task at hand, he hopped out of the cab, ambled around the corner and tapped on the plate glass window.
At first LuAnn hesitated to let him in. The quizzical look on her face told him immediately she didn’t recognize him. But then there was a quick exchange of smiles as he rubbed the smooth skin where his beard had been and, indicating a pair of scissors, ran his fingers in a circle around his shorn hair. Much less guarded than yesterday when they’d first met, she seemed genuinely glad to see him. He put it down to the absence and prying eyes of deputy Sonny Drew.
Once inside, Beca, the waitress with the shock of hair over one eye was doing her best to feign indifference, possibly miffed over the assumption that not only had Josh gone out of his way again, he’d cleaned himself up in a further attempt to impress LuAnn. Whatever the reason, it was so petty Josh didn’t offer anything beyond a nod.
He stepped aside to let LuAnn finish her last-minute instructions to the short-order cook; Cora, a waitress with a permanent frown on her face, and a fourth freckled-faced worker who appeared to be a combinatio
n busboy and kitchen help. In this last-minute hustle and bustle, the grills were started up, the home fries and other prep work at the ready, the salt and pepper shakers and table settings rechecked, the board for today’s specials vetted along with Beca’s competency on the new touch-screen register.
In the meantime, while gazing now and then through the blinds for any sign of Alice, Josh couldn’t help noticing the contrast between his ex Megan and LuAnn. Megan, with her heart-shaped porcelain face and façade to match, coiffed do, trim-and-fit bod and all the rest of it. Perhaps it was the ceaseless flattery about what a photogenic couple they were, their impending marriage a perfect excuse to give up whatever amorphous ache would simply not let go. If you add in her father’s offer of a picture book cottage in an upscale neighborhood to boot, Josh had all the right reasons to jump at the union. And here was LuAnn: willowy, shy and wistful—nothing comparable to Megan on paper. LuAnn and whatever was tugging at him right and left were nowhere in the same ball park and would doubtless go down in everyone’s book as all the wrong reasons.
With everything set to go, LuAnn moved to his side, slipped off the amber elastic band around her wrist, casually brushed her hair back and secured it into a ponytail. As unassuming as can be, LuAnn glanced at him and said, “It’s Josh, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. And you’re still LuAnn.”
“Uh-huh,” she said in that soft southern drawl that was barely noticeable while everyone else continued to flit about. “So what brings you here so bright and early?”
“Same old thing.”
“Ah,” LuAnn said as frowning Cora pointed at the wall clock. “It’s Alice.”
“You got it.”
“What’s she done now?”
Frustrated, Cora pointed both at the wall clock and her watch.
To Cora, Josh said, “It’s okay. I’m just an anxious customer here for breakfast.” Then quickly back to LuAnn. “All I know is apparently things are a lot worse and as soon as she gets here, I plan to find out.”
“Oh.”
“I know what you’re thinking. But you see, if you keep shrugging things off, even when you try to tell yourself it’s really none of your business, pretty soon there comes a time when it gets so out of hand that you . . .”
Josh cut himself off the moment she touched his shoulder as if to say, “It’s all right, it’s okay.”
Josh gazed out again as LuAnn raised the blinds, unlatched the front door and let in a trio of men in John Deere caps, checkered shirts and soiled work pants who immediately took their allotted places on the stools at the center of the counter. All at once, the predictable banter ensued as floppy-hair Beca took their orders.
Josh stepped outside and peered up and down the street. Still no Alice.
Returning, he went over to the spot where LuAnn had positioned herself at the far end of the counter.
“Guess she’s running late,” LuAnn said. “In the meantime, and since you’re so hungry, you can have something while you’re waiting.”
On cue, Cora flipped open her pad and moved in. Josh ordered some sticky buns and coffee to tide him over.
Masking his growing concern as another handful of workmen dressed somewhat alike added to the growing din, Josh asked LuAnn about her hours today. He found out that Cody, the owner, was due to come by around ten and LuAnn would be off, heading back to her regular post. Josh then recalled Strother said she was only filling in and was completing a graduate degree at Ole Miss while making ends meet by managing some restaurant over in Oxford. Offhandedly, she told him it was called The Bottletree, less than a block down from the Oxford Square, and handed him a card in case he got hungry while doing his rounds in her neck of the woods.
This light banter was interrupted by an altercation in the kitchen. Killing time till LuAnn returned, Josh kept glancing at his watch and peering at the front door. He wolfed down the sweet roles and coffee while standing by the edge of the counter despite Cora’s obvious disapproval.
A few minutes later, LuAnn reappeared and picked up on Josh’s anxiety.
“Look, why don’t you at least sit down and finish your coffee? I’ll keep an eye out. Or, if you’d like, soon as I get a chance I could phone her aunt at the Dixie Dollar who might have seen her.”
“That’s okay, I’ll just hang in there a few minutes more.”
When those few minutes passed, LuAnn slipped back and said, “Of course Alice could’ve changed her mind. She’s like that, you know.”
“It doesn’t follow.”
“Well, I don’t know what else to tell you.”
Unable to slough it off any longer, Josh said, “Look, it seems she’s had a concussion and a temporary memory loss. And gotten herself into some kind of trouble. She even had to hightail it from the ER in Holly Springs because someone had traced her there.”
As the noise level kicked up another notch, it took LuAnn a few beats to take this in. “I don’t understand? I thought she was only playing hooky?”
“Whatever she was playing-at got her mixed up somehow with screwy Darryl.”
“From over in Higdon? Drives a new red pickup?”
“That’s the one. Drove up to my uncle’s Memphis warehouse and then spooked her at his Blues Cafe. Which might help explain what I’m doing back here so bright and early.”
Josh cut it short, realizing that LuAnn was picking up on his unease and there was no way to logically justify Alice’s disjointed itinerary. Besides, it had become near impossible to talk over the jovial customers and the rest of the ambient noise. “Sorry. Guess I am really overloading the circuit. Maybe I’ll just take a leisurely look around.”
Excusing himself, he walked out the door. Another glance up and down the street produced nothing. He walked around the corner past his truck and looked down the narrow lane in case she’d decided it might be safer to come in the back way. But all he could see were stands of leafless trees on both sides with not a house in sight.
Moments later he thought he heard something not too far off. The sound was muted and could well have been only a yelping dog; the noise from the nearby kitchen made it impossible to tell. He walked on but the yelping or whatever it was stopped. Out of curiosity, he continued moving in the same direction until he heard it again, only this time he could swear he heard shouting. He picked up the pace until he could make out the exact words.
“Let go, let go ! That’s my arm, you dumb bastard!”
Darryl’s shiny red pickup came into view around the bend along with Alice’s overlapping cries and Darryl’s shouts. “You seen him, you little bitch! What you done with him? Where’d he go?”
“You’re crazy. You think I’d tell you anything? Ow! Goddamn it!”
Racing now, Josh barged headlong toward the pair of them as Darryl yanked Alice back and forth like he was trying to tear off her arm. Finally reaching him, Josh grabbed the back of his ratty sweatshirt so hard, Darryl let go of Alice and clutched at his throat. Totally out of control, Josh spun Darryl around and punched him in the stomach and kept on punching till Darryl crumpled to one knee and quit moving.
Josh looked down at him in disbelief. Never in living memory had he ever lost his temper, never gotten into a fight of any kind, not even on the playground when kids ripped up his homework and called him a big, fat sissy.
There was no telling how long Josh just stood there. It might have been seconds, it might have been longer. Both of them motionless save for Darryl’s rasping twitch.
It dawned on Josh that Alice had taken off the instant Darryl let go. Josh scoured the gaps between the trunks of the trees thinking that she’d bolted and hid. No luck. It was only when he backtracked around the bend that he caught sight of her in the distance, clutching her arm, half-running half-staggering, apparently heading for his truck.
He stopped short and spun around in case Darryl had clambered into his pickup and was about to come careening around the corner. Warily, he retreated to the point where he could at least size up the s
ituation. If Darryl was still hunkered down, the solution was simple. Get a hold of Alice and get her out of here. But Darryl wasn’t still motionless. Another glance took him to the sidewall of the pickup bed. As Darryl reached into the lockbox, there was a glint of metal, probably the switchblade Ella spoke of.
Josh took off his jacket and considered wrapping it around his arm or at least waving it in front of Darryl’s eyes until he could land one more blow. Just then, as if picking up on this signal, Darryl brandished the knife or whatever it was in his right hand, pointed directly at Josh with his left, a gesture obviously meant Josh was in for it.
As Darryl approached with a wincing, cursing shuffle, Josh waited until Darryl was far enough away from his red pickup. He put his jacket back on and rushed back to the truck. But he knew almost immediately that Alice wasn’t there. He entered Cody’s which was now in full swing, tables nearly full, all the stools at the counter taken, the waitresses and bus boy so busy they barely had time to exchange a word. He needed them to say something because LuAnn was also nowhere in sight.
Finally, he got frowning-Cora to respond as he cornered her while she reached through the kitchen window for an order of rib-eye steak, eggs and grits. Yes, Alice had stumbled in, red-eyed and in pain. Yes, LuAnn had hurried her out despite Alice’s protests she only needed a towel to use for a sling. No, LuAnn was not about to drop Alice off at the ER. Under the circumstances, she told Cora to take over till Cody showed up. Because she had to go back to The Bottletree anyway and, long as Alice could hold on for just a little bit, might as well get her clear out of Benton County before something else happened to her.
19.
After making sure there was no sign of Darryl anywhere in the vicinity, Josh called The Bottletree and was told LuAnn wasn’t due in for another four hours. No one within hollering distance in the restaurant had a clue where LuAnn might take a girl with a sprained arm. The only thing on offer was the flip observation it was just like LuAnn to pick up a stray and have it mended: “stray kid, dog, cat—you name it.”