by Lynn Red
And then she just waited. Millie sipped her drink, staring at me.
“Why do I feel like I’m being interrogated?” I asked.
“Because you are,” she said.
I chewed on my bottom lip, digging my slightly pointy teeth in until it hurt. I don’t know why, but her asking me these questions made me want to do nothing more but curl up in a furry ball and hide in bed.
“Get it out,” Millie insisted. “I can always tell when something’s eating you up and right now, honey, something’s making a buffet out of my fox.”
I took a deep breath and bit my lip again. Good God I did not want to go through this whole thing. She wasn’t going to let up though, and that was probably for the best. I unleashed the whole story, starting with my so-bad-it-could-have-been-a-punch line date with Eustace or whatever his name really was.
The version I told went all the way through the very end of our first encounter – I stopped with waving to Henry out my front door. I left out the parts about me grinding on Ash though. I might be a little shameless sometimes, but I’m not sure even I could handle my librarian boss – and one of my mom’s best friends – hearing about me dry-humping a guy in my ex-boyfriend’s apartment. That was about eight steps too far.
“I wish I was still your age,” Millie said with a hint of longing in her voice, when I finally finished. “Then again I’m sure you wish you were ten years younger, too. I guess it’s one of those things everyone does.”
I crooked my head a little, thinking back ten years. I was going from “too curvy” to just “nice and curvy” about the time I was a high school sophomore.
“I dunno,” I said. “Fourteen going on fifteen wasn’t really my best year. Grandpa died, then I ended up with a pretty ridiculous set of classes.”
At the time of course, I thought I was the only person in the world stupid enough to fail five classes and just about have a nervous breakdown. I went to my Aunt Nadine’s house for a summer sabbatical. It was good, and I thought maybe my head was getting back together, but the first thing I did when I got back to Jamesburg, was fall straight the hell to pieces.
I got it all back together though. It took a couple years, and I’m not going to act like it wasn’t hard, but I managed to get everything turned around enough to get through two years at a big state school, then I finished my degree at home.
I guess that’s the thing for me – home is all at once the right place, and the worst place. But... when I thought of Ash? I felt safe.
“Maybe twenty-two, for me,” I offered. “That one was pretty good.” I had to say something to lighten the tension. I hadn’t meant to get everything all heavy.
Millie smiled. “I know what you mean. I guess really, when you consider what happened with Mister Upridge,” she said his name with a little wince. “My early thirties weren’t the best either.”
My life falling apart, her husband getting so sick... we both sat and stared at the desk for few moments.
“Oh well,” Millie said, slapping the desk softly twice. “We’re both still here, right? Seem to have come out the better for it. At least we’re not zombies. Did you hear about Jenga Cranston?”
I laughed, very thankful for the break in the tension. “Going back to his house after his stint in the county jail and finding that his zombie friend had turned the living room into a moss garden?”
“Couldn’t believe it,” Millie said. “He must’ve been furious. After all he had that gorgeous television set. To think – a sixty inch plasma television – turned into a planter.”
We both chuckled. I had no clue in the world how a TV got turned into a planter, but I guess zombies have a lot of time on their hands.
Millie’s desk phone buzzed, and she rolled her chair the entire length of the circulation desk to answer.
“Jamesburg Community College library,” she answered, inspecting her fingernails. “Millicent Upridge speaking, how can I—”
“Turn on the news!” I heard. “Those girls! The kidnapped ones – the hyenas found something. Hurry up, it’s on the town news station.”
Millie shot me a look that asked if I’d heard. I nodded and flicked on one of the media cart televisions usually reserved for people in film class to fall asleep in front of during Orson Welles movies.
“What channel?” I whispered. I couldn’t remember the last time I bothered looking at the public access news. As far as I knew all that played on there were town meetings. And who the hell watches town council meetings on television?
Millie shrugged. Not even the head librarian, apparently, I thought. I stifled a giggle as I flipped through the stations until I happened upon Whit Whitman, the town’s main news anchor and also, weatherman. He had a name for both.
“Details at this point are sketchy,” Whit said. The wind was obviously blowing pretty hard, since the lapels on his jacket were flopping all over the place, but his perfect silver hair was so gelled it didn’t move at all. “But what we know right now is – oh! Detective!” he shouted at a passing officer who wore a slate gray suit.
“Detective Daniels! Can you give us any information? Did something break with the case?”
The detective scratched the back of his neck rapidly. Hyenas will be hyenas, after all. He shook his head, like he was trying to figure out whether it’d be more of a pain in the ass to answer, or to ignore Whit Whitman until he went away.
He knew, of course, that Whit Whitman never went away.
“Detective!”
The poor guy, who was obviously busy, took a deep breath and let his shoulders sag as he exhaled. “I guess there’s no point to ignoring you,” he said.
Whit Whitman smiled in that way only anchormen can smile. Then, he stuck the microphone under Detective Daniels’s face. “What is going on here? I’ve never seen this many police in the same place at the same time.”
“You’ve never been in the briefing room, then.” Detective Daniels laughed at his own joke. “Er, I mean, there’s no new information, only a new victim.”
From across the room, I heard Millie gasp. My heart, too, was pounding in my neck.
“Is there any idea who the victim is? And do you mean another kidnapping?” Whit Whitman asked. He jabbed the mike back into the detective’s face.
“Yup,” Daniels answered. “And in the case of ongoing investigations, we’d like to keep Presley’s name out of the...” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “Anyway, we don’t want to get to specific. I... uh, I have other things to do. Get out of here and let us work.”
The detective pushed past Whit Whitman, who was still smiling at the camera. “There you have it folks,” he said. “We’re not going anywhere. Keep your kids safe, Jamesburg. Keep your doors locked, keep you—”
Millie stood up and shut off the news. “Keep your girls away from Whit Whitman,” she finished. “Did you know her? Presley Jenkins I’m guessing he meant, unless there’s another one.”
I nodded, feeling a strange tingle in the back of my head. Twenty seconds ago, I was about to have another Ash-induced swoon session and now I was worried about one of my old friends from high school being kidnapped. “We used to be friends,” I said. “She’s from the bobcat family who lives on that little patch of land outside town. I think her dad builds furniture or something. I wasn’t ever really sure.”
“Shame,” Millie said. “It’s a real shame. But I’m guessing they’re going to find those girls. I’ve watched enough television to know that much. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m worried but... yeah, I mean he might bumble around in interviews but Detective Daniels is kind of a hardened badass. He’ll find—”
My phone started to buzz in my purse, interrupting my thought.
“Better get that,” Millie said, crouching back down in her own chair and typing something. “Might be your boyfriend.”
I answered the phone without looking at the number. I’ve got to stop doing that.
“Hello?”
> The voice that came through turned my knees to half-cooled Jello.
“Hey Violet,” Crag said. His voice was so wonderfully deep that it almost made my whole body vibrate. “It’s so good to hear your voice. I’m smiling right now, can you tell?”
I could tell. Oh God could I ever tell.
-14-
Ash
“You doing okay?” Ash asked. “You sound like something’s bothering you. Or like you’re nervous or something.”
“Bad habit,” Violet answered. “And yeah, I just saw something on the news about some kidnappings going around. One of my friends was grabbed earlier.”
Ash frowned, looking down at his boots. “Do the police know anything yet? Last I heard on the radio they didn’t have any leads. Bad story, anyway.”
“Yeah,” Violet said. “I don’t get it. I mean, who kidnaps people in a town like Jamesburg? Or even in Clinton? The only thing is that I’m not sure they know what they have. This has been going on for almost a month now, it’s crazy.”
Ash made a soft grunt, and something squeaked. “What was that?” Violet asked.
“Sorry,” he said. “Taping up. I do the first pass myself. My hands get so sore I usually keep them taped up some. What do you mean?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Violet said. She was obviously distracted. She sounded like her mind was totally on something else. “Sorry, I don’t mean to blabber at you. I’m sure you have other things to do. I gotta get busy anyway. All I meant,” she said, “was that one of the kidnapped girls is a leopard and the other is a Scottish panther. I’m more afraid for the kidnapper I think. Anyway, talk to you later?”
Violet paused, waiting for him to say something. If he was the one doing the chasing, he better start, she thought.
“Wait!” Ash almost shouted. The guy at the next locker jolted a little when the giant bellowed. “Wait, what about tonight? Don’t think I’m going to let you get away that easily.”
She could hear the grin in his voice. For a second, Violet let him distract her from the grant form she was supposed to be filling out. Maybe being chased really was worth being so tired she could barely keep her eyes open.
“Well?” she asked. “If you’re the one chasing me, you better have some kind of plan.”
Violet could almost hear the gears in Ash’s head turning.
He needed out. Worse than anything, he needed out. Ash thought about the way Violet felt against his body, the way her skin made him feel hot and cold all at once. He wanted out of the pit, out of the fights. It isn’t that he minded fighting, or putting on a show, or anything else – it was really that he wanted away from Marlin.
One more day was all he had to be with Violet before it was back on the road. Tomorrow was some burg outside Raleigh, the next day Roxboro, and the day after that... God only knew.
That wasn’t good enough. He remembered the way her hair smelled when he pulled her close and the way her lips tasted.
One more day wasn’t anywhere near enough.
“Early fight tonight,” he lied. “Want me to pick you up?”
“Is that a question?” Violet asked.
Ash looked out the window of the Clinton civic center’s back room. There was a deli tray between where he sat and the window. Decent enough deli tray, he thought, although the salami wasn’t very spicy and the lettuce was old.
He looked past it and at the motorcycle Marlin gave him for being the promotion’s headliner. It was more of a bribe than anything, but Crag never really understood what it was for. As he stared, pondering his escape from the life he didn’t want anymore, he suddenly realized it was a “shut up and stay that way” present. It was meant to keep him indebted to that nasty croc. It was meant to keep Ash from getting any stupid ideas.
“No,” he said, growling a little. She seemed to like that, from the way she purred when he did it. “Nope, not a question. I’ll pick you up at nine.”
“I can’t wait,” Violet said, with a cute little twist in her voice. “Should I wear anything specific? We don’t have many fancy places here, but—”
“As long as you’re you,” Ash growled, “I don’t care what you’re wearing. Just be you. Got it?”
Violet’s mouth fell open and she let one of her hands drop onto the table in front of her. “Y... yeah,” she said, about halfway to swooning. “Oh my God, yeah.”
“Good,” Ash said under his breath. “Be ready. Nine o’clock.”
He felt a little ridiculous making demands like that, but the way Violet reacted told him he was doing it just right. “See you then?” he asked. “See you then, I mean. Not a question.”
He grinned as he hung up. Imagining the deep crimson flush that spread like terminal anticipation over Violet’s cheeks, neck, and the part of her chest that was above the moderate dip in the neck of her sweater, he could almost taste her kisses, almost smell her scent.
I caught you once, he thought, smiling. Next time, it’ll be for good.
But for one more night, for one more fight, Ash had to pack that away. One last time, he had to be Crag.
*
“Another fuckin’ fight,” Marlin said, clicking his tongue after each word. Crag could almost see the dollar signs dancing before his promoter’s eyes. “Another fuckin’ buck. Someday Crag, my boy, you’re going to understand the world a little better. You’re gonna understand why I do what I do.”
Marlin took off the short-brimmed hat he always wore, and slid his hand over his scalp. “Look at this,” he said to Crag, jutting his nose toward the tiny television on his office desk.
On the screen, a man – one that was almost the same height as Crag, but nowhere near as thick around the shoulders, arms or legs – was poking around the scene of the most recent kidnapping.
“This oil-slicked asshole won’t stop talking,” Marlin said.
On the TV, Whit Whitman was chasing the long-haired guy around, asking him questions. Crag noticed there was some kind of tattoo coming out of the guy’s shirt, but he didn’t recognize him.
“Erik!” the news guy was shouting. “Mr. Danniken! Mayor! Alpha! Will you comment?”
“Comment on what?” the big guy answered, gruffly. “Two more girls are missing and the only lead we have is the butt of a cigar. Get out of here before I turn you into pudding.”
Marlin let a wry grin spread across his lips. “This is a special sort of place. Anywhere else, the mayor of a city threatening a reporter would be news. Here? It’s no wonder girls are going missing.”
Crag shot his boss a nasty look. He was scowling, making good and sure none of his softness showed. “He’s a good guy. When he started, I was leaving town for college. I never really knew Erik very well, but just from what I hear from my cousin, he’s done wonders for the place.”
“Wouldn’t be hard,” Marlin sneered. “These hick towns are all the same, no matter what happens to their residents when no one else is looking. I’m so tired of coming to shitheaps like this. Someday, Crag,” he said, reaching up and putting his hand on the big man’s shoulder, “someday we’re gonna go big.”
Crag gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw so hard it hurt.
So many things he wanted to say, so many ways he wanted to say them. But he wouldn’t. Crag Morgan clenched his fists, and listened to the tape squeak between his fingers. Someday, just like Marlin said, things were going to be different. In Crag’s mind though, they weren’t going to go at all like the round, scaly little man in front of him thought they would.
“What’s got you, Crag?” Marlin asked. “You’re so quiet today. Hangover?”
Crag shook his head. “Just thinking is all.” That much was true, at least. He’d never say exactly what he was thinking, though.
“That’ll get you in trouble,” Marlin said. “Too much thinking, not enough fighting. What’s on that lunk-like mind of yours, anyway?”
“A girl,” Crag replied. He shrugged. “It’s nothing, just... a girl.”
If nothing else, Ma
rlin could appreciate a taste for women. And it wasn’t like he was lying, either. Ever since they were last together, Crag had barely slept or breathed or taken a drink or ate anything that he didn’t think of her. Those golden-brown, almond shaped eyes, that cute nose, those gorgeous hips... he felt a little bit like he was coming down with a Violet flu.
Crag snorted a laugh. “Nothing,” he said, preemptively answering Marlin. “I mean, nothing important. Just a girl I met at a bar last night.”
Marlin nodded in his obnoxious, sage-like way. Replacing his greasy hat on his greasy scalp, his eyes narrowed for a moment.
“Either way,” Marlin finally hissed, “don’t get too mixed up in all that. We’re road people, right? We’re not much more than carnies who sell violence instead of cotton candy.”
The short crocodile grunted and fished one of the cigars out of his pocket. He dug his teeth into the butt end, ripping it unevenly. He spat the end on the ground and jabbed it with the toe of his boot, sending the brown nub skittering across the ground.
“Why do you always bite them if you just chew on them?” Crag asked.
“Habit,” Marlin replied. “Hey, big guy, what would you say if I offered you a little business deal?”
Crag grimaced. “I’d say I think I’m busy enough. No more deals, Marlin,” he said. “I’m here because I have to be. You don’t have to pretend to like me, or anything else. I’m a fighter, that’s all I ever was.”
Marlin nodded. “Keep it up with the short sighted shit, Crag. You got no idea what you’re missing. Come on, follow me.”
Crag stayed quiet on the short walk to Marlin’s office. Once he was there, the trailer seemed more constricting, more like a prison, than it ever had before. He wanted out as badly as he wanted Violet. But how?
As Marlin settled back behind his desk, Crag eyed the cigars sticking out of his boss’s breast pocket, and the one bobbing between his teeth. Crag couldn’t help but wonder.
“These podunk fuckin’ towns? You can bleed them dry.” Marlin interrupted Crag’s ruminating. He licked his thin lips and started counting the fives on his desk again. Crag curled one corner of his lip in a disapproving grimace. “They love it, you know. These hillbilly clowns show up to the fights because there’s nothin’ better to do, and before you know it, you’ve got a bunch of them throwing around money they don’t have. Best of both worlds.”