“It’s just that, I know the lady who runs the store. She’s worried you boys are loitering out here.” She pointed to the cops, still staring at them. “I didn’t want to see you boys get into any trouble. You seem harmless enough.”
“I’m sorry,” Hank finally answered. “My brother and I, we had somewhat of a turbulent night. I know this is going to sound terribly strange, but we can’t remember most of it.”
The woman held her hand out. “Delilah Turner.”
Hank took her hand. It was as soft as a baby’s bottom. “Hank Rivers.”
Curly cleared his throat. “Hank, I believe your ears are smoking now.”
Hank nodded toward him. “My little brother. Curly Cootie.”
Delilah pulled her hand away and offered it to Curly. They shook, and Curly quickly pulled his hand back. Hank was sure she noticed his reaction, but she didn’t act like it.
“Nice name. Curly Cootie. I’m sure never to forget it.”
“I’d like to forget some things,” he scoffed.
“Me too,” she said without a moment of hesitation.
Delilah turned her face slightly and nodded toward Jo’s Shop. She started to walk away, and Hank slapped Curly, wanting him to move. She didn’t say anything else as they walked. She didn’t seem to have any answers. Hank didn’t have any questions at the moment. All he could think of was how he wasn’t just dizzy with one dame, but now two. Heaven Almighty!
As they passed the policemen, they stared in Delilah’s direction. They were watching her, like men watch women they want. She seemed to ignore them. Hank wasn’t concerned with them all that much either, especially if she wasn’t. But Curly was a nervous wreck. He loved Dylan, but he had a fear of the rest of them. He had what Dylan called astynomiaphobia.
They walked together into the garage, an old car of some sort awaited service. A head popped out from under the car. The woman was lying underneath the vehicle on a creeper. She was wearing a mulberry mechanic’s jumper, the name Jo stitched on her pocket. She had straight hair that was so black it almost seemed blue, and thick bangs that fell sideways across her forehead. She had striking green eyes. No brown. Hank was keeping count.
Curly nudged Hank and held up two fingers. Hank quickly pulled his fingers down.
“Where’d you find these strays?” the woman said in a tone that made it perfectly clear she wasn’t thrilled to have company.
“Be nice, Jo.” Delilah laughed. “Hank Rivers, Curly Cootie, meet Napoleon’s Josephine. Josephine James, these strays were going to be picked up for loitering. Sassy thought they were troublemakers. Thought I’d do my good deed for the day and help out.”
“The name’s Jo.” Then she disappeared underneath the car again.
“I’d apologize for her, but there’s no use.” Delilah smirked. “She’ll just be rude again. She hates men.”
“It’s all right,” Hank said. “Thank you for helping us.”
Delilah narrowed her eyes. “You live far from here?”
Hank swallowed hard, trying to quench his parched throat and suck down the lump that seemed permanently stuck there. “Not really. We’re from Tupelo. I’m familiar with Memphis, though. Preacher John, my daddy, he lives here. I spent many summers here. And I worked here for a year.”
Curly coughed. He looked like he was about to be sick. His face was pale, the lump on his head was red and swollen, and his eyes were heavy. His blonde hair was falling in his eyes, and the back was sticking straight up, nothing but a tangled bunch of knots.
“Would ya’ll like something to drink? You both look horrible.”
Hank liked her. She was a straight shooter. It was good to like the person you fell in love with. Sometimes you didn’t have a choice, like him with Pistollette. He wasn’t sure if he liked her, but he knew he loved her regardless. Romance and reality can sometimes be far apart.
Hank looked at Curly. “Yeah, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble. I think he needs something to drink and eat.”
Delilah smiled. She walked to the back of the station to an old red and white drink machine. She twisted the silver knob and then stopped short, turning around, her hand still in the same position.
“Ya’ll are not diabetic, are you? My Uncle Hennessey is, and he’s always trying to sneak sweets. He’s always trying to drink regular when he’s supposed to have diet—”
The creeper flew out again. Jo stared at her, along with Hank and Curly. She was rambling sweetly.
“—unless his sugar is low, and then he needs the regular. When he’s low, he gets the shakes real bad and snaps at everybody. He gets snappy when his sugar is high too, so sometimes we’re not too sure what he is. Low, high, low, high, where are you, Hennessey? Still, he tries to drink it, but he should only when he’s low. But if you were diabetic, you’d know that.” Her voice fell. “I’d hope you would anyway.”
A short pause seemed to still the room. The creeper flew back under, zapping the room awake again. Hank laughed.
“It’s all right. We’re not diabetic.” Hank smiled at her.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered twice. She grabbed two bottles of Coca Cola, popped the tops, and gave them each one.
It was cold and Hank’s mouth was watering. He drank half of it down, loving the feel of the burn against his throat. Curly asked him to hold his while he used the bathroom. Delilah told him where to go and he walked backward, watching them until he was forced to turn around.
Jo’s head popped out again. “He’s strange. He isn’t going to do anything to my bathroom, is he? I’m just going to warn you now, if he does, I’m going to knock him upside his head with my wrench.”
Hank almost spit the drink he had just taken out of his mouth.
Delilah laughed and shrugged. “See? It’s a waste of my time to even apologize. She’s wired that way.”
Hank smiled and noticed that when he did, Delilah took a step away from him. He wanted to be closer to her. Hank was losing himself in her. She had the faintest lines forming around her mouth, almost like scowl marks in the making. He couldn’t imagine why in the world this woman wouldn’t smile. She was too beautiful not to.
“Listen here, Hank. I have to be going. I’m on my way to work. I’d hate to leave you to Jo because she can be a little testy with her devices. Do you need to call someone to pick you up? Preacher John? If you hang around here all day, the cops are going to hound you. You and your brother, you both look like you’re in trouble. You both look tore up. Your suit has blood on it to go along with those stitches. You can see how this looks just a little strange, can’t you?”
“I know.” Hank shook his head. “Where are you going? Someplace around here?”
“No, no place around here. Why? Where are you boys headed?”
“Wherever you’re headed, if you can give us a ride? I mean, you probably don’t want to give strange men a ride. I just…I just…”
“I’ll give you a ride. I just need to know the truth first. And don’t try to lie. I’ll know you are.”
“You’re not going to believe me.”
“Try me.”
“My brother and I, we sort of got ourselves mixed up in a robbery.” Hank paused. That sounded all wrong, even to him. “I mean, I ran after a bunch of women robbers who robbed the bank I was in. You can check the news, I’m sure it’s all over the place by now. I’m just not ready to go back yet.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Hank thanked her and then said, “By the way, where are you headed?”
Delilah fixed her stare on him, her eyes playful, like she wanted to tumble around. “Nashville. Get your riders up, because we’re about to head out.”
“Nashville,” Hank repeated. “Do you mind if we stop somewhere along the way? Curly and I need to get new clothes.”
“Not at all. I was worried, you know, about your clothes. I didn’t want to get stopped by the cops on the way and for them to think we were the ones who robbed that bank.�
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And then she laughed, like it was the most entertaining thought in the world. Hank was pleased. If you could make a woman laugh, you could make her do anything. This he was certain of because a woman had said it.
The road seemed to blow away beneath them as they made their way to Nashville. The conversation was light, their speed heavy. As Delilah drove, Hank watched her. She seemed to be one of those people who got quiet in the car. Daydreaming and driving, caught in a space of time that was hers only while the rest of the world was locked out.
Light music played in the background. There was something peaceful about being with her like this. She was a smooth driver of such a masculine car—shifting so naturally that the movements almost seemed second nature. Hank found it strangely erotic to watch her, his tongue running over his lips every so often when she moved. He imagined the feel of her fingertips on his back, through his hair, the taste of her lips against his tongue.
Hank fidgeted, turning his face away for a moment to catch his breath.
After a bit more steady thinking, about everything and nothing, Hank thought it was best to start a conversation, but he wasn’t sure how. They had talked about Tupelo, and she had asked him what he did, but other than that, she was mostly silent. He had asked her what she did for work and she told him she owned a bar. It was polite conversation, the conversation of two people who are shy around each other, both wanting to say more, but unsure of words. A little shy, a lot hesitant.
When they had stopped along the way to buy him and Curly more clothes, he caught her watching him. He was only shopping for clothes, but it seemed like she didn’t want to be too far from where he was. Their eyes had met, and when Hank smiled, she found herself a seat not far from where they were shopping. She watched him. He watched her back. And when he left the store wearing just a plain white cotton t-shirt and blue jeans, she had told him he didn’t look like any lawyer she’d ever seen.
She had stopped for a moment then, taking a moment to blatantly stare at him. Her eyes had moved up and down his body, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking. How quickly those eyes could change. Just like a storm. She seemed to take her time absorbing every inch of him. Hank was tall, but he wasn’t lanky. He had strong shoulders and, although he was slender, he wasn’t too thin.
It was the first time in his life a woman had ever made him blush. She had made him feel like he had when he was a young boy experiencing his first crush.
He blushed again, thinking of her. The way her eyes seemed hungry for him. He turned his face, the sun glinting in his eyes, to check on Curly. He was snoring in the back seat, using his suit as a pillow and Hank’s as a blanket.
The silence was too much. It felt like the lights were turned out and candles were lit. Hank had to say something.
“Why were you in Memphis if your bar is in Nashville?”
It took her a moment to answer. “I have a home in Magnolia Springs, in Alabama. I was taking a little vacation, but when you own your own business, there’s really no such thing. It’s nice to get away, even if it is just for a few days.”
“Do you live in Nashville?”
She nodded. “It’s pretty crowded there, though, and sometimes I like wide open spaces.”
“This is a nice car you have. It’s on Curly’s list of dream cars. If he wouldn’t have had such a rough night, he’d be appreciating it more.”
“It’s not mine. It’s Jo’s.”
“Oh.” Hank paused. “Well, Jo has a nice car.”
Delilah just nodded, still seemingly caught up in her daydream. She moved slightly in her seat, wrapping her fingers around the wheel a little tighter. Hank felt the pressure rise in the car and he shifted with it. He knew he had to roll with its gravity. He couldn’t fight against the force.
“Hank, why would you run behind a bunch of bank robbers?”
Her question caught him off guard. He found himself looking out of the window. He stared as the trees seemed to flash by.
He knew he had to be careful. If he said too much, she might leave them on the side of the road. If he didn’t say enough, she might think he didn’t care for her. If she were Pistollette, he wanted her to know how he felt. It might be the only chance he had to tell her. He was caught in a trap.
“If I tell you the truth, are you going to leave me on the side of the road?”
“That bad, huh?”
“That bad.” Hank groaned and tapped his head against the headrest.
“I won’t judge you.”
Hank could’ve sworn he heard pleading in her voice. It made his heart ache.
“I fell in love with one of them.” There, he said it.
“I never saw this in you, but you seem to like your girls dirty.”
Her comment caught him off guard again. He laughed. “Not before I didn’t. Maybe I was dirty all along and didn’t realize it. They say love brings out the best in you. I guess sometimes it can bring out the worst, too. It doesn’t matter if I didn’t commit those crimes. I’m willing to overlook it because I have to know her. I have to love her. And that makes me just as guilty. I don’t even know if I’m making sense anymore. I’m twisted in something I never saw coming.”
“I don’t think love is bad. No matter who you fall in love with. Love is always good. It’s people who aren’t always so nice with it. I just don’t understand the logistics of it all. She robs a bank and you fall in love with her?”
“She looked me in the eye and I fell in love with her. I didn’t choose to, but who has a choice in love, really? I mean, we all have a choice, but not at first. Not when it makes your heart heave and knocks your feet from underneath you. She robbed me of much more than my money.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“I can’t walk away. I love her too much. I wish I could tell her. I wish I could just see her face.” Hank stared at Delilah, and finally, she looked his way and smiled a little. But her eyes, they looked sad. They had so much to say to him, but she was controlling everything inside of her. He could feel it, like a pressure building inside a closed bottle. “What do you think, Delilah? Do you think she felt it?”
He thought his question would shock her, she would miss a beat, and he’d know it was her. But she was cool, collected, like a sharp winter’s wind. “I’m not too sure, Hank. She robs banks. I doubt she feels too much.”
“I don’t believe that’s true. I saw the way she looked at me. Sometimes the mind plays crazy tricks on you when you’re in a stressful situation, but if I’m being honest, the look in her eyes told me that she had never looked at another man the way she looked at me. I could be wrong, but I believe she loves me, too.”
“Maybe she does. That still doesn’t change the fact that her hands are dirty and there’s no way for her to be involved with someone like you. You’re a lawyer, an assistant district attorney. Can’t you see how that could pose a potential problem? Not counting the ones she’s already raking up.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How can it not?”
“I love her.”
“Okay, say she loves you too. What does that have to do with it?”
“Everything.”
“Boy, you are just a teaspoon away from insane, aren’t you? Let me ask you something, Hank.” Her tone turned mocking. “What did this woman say to you? Did she tell you she loved you? Did she kiss you or touch you? Tell me, what did she do?”
“No, she didn’t. She never spoke a word to me, or touched me even.”
“How can you be so sure then?”
Hank fidgeted in his seat a bit. “I just am. She loves me.”
“Careful now, Hank. A little confidence goes a long way.” She sniffed in his direction. “You’re starting to stink like the distinct smell of pride.”
“That ain’t me, babe,” Hank said. “I’m just confident in what we shared. In the feelings I have for her.”
“Dear Lord, you say you got twisted up in this? I think the only t
hing twisted is your thought process.”
“Delilah, you’d have to be twisted to follow a bank robber out. You would have to be twisted,” Hank said, staring out the window, “to fall in love with her while she pressed a gun to your heart. But do you want to know what’s the most twisted of all? My worst fear was not of dying, but of her running away and me never seeing her again.”
Hank shifted his gaze back to her. She was staring out the window, those storm clouds far off in the distance, almost dreamily. Her voice was dreamy, like it was floating through a sad but soft dream. “Go home, Hank. Please, when we get to Nashville, take the first plane out and go home. Don’t do this to yourself. You’re too nice a guy. Forget about that woman. Fall in love with a nice girl and be good to her. Settle down and let it go.”
Hank twisted his body toward her, his back to the door. “I’m not the settlin’ kind. I fell in love. Yes, the whole thing is unconventional to the point of absurd. All these things I used to want or didn’t in a woman, the deal breakers—smacking while eating, gossiping to her girlfriends, or not listening to REO Speedwagon—all seem like minor things now.
“I fell in love with this woman despite her not being perfect. I saw her deepest, darkest secret, and I know there’s more to her. And if I fell in love with her, accepting the bad things before I even know the good, can you imagine how I’ll feel when I know the good?” Hank swallowed. “There are no deal breakers—unless she would cheat.”
“You can see her rob banks, but you don’t want her to cheat?”
“It’s the most absurd statement that has ever left my mouth. Love makes you crazy. That’s my only defense. I think cheating deserves jail time. It should be a crime. It kills people. It truly does.”
“What if that’s not her darkest secret? What if she’s capable of murder?”
“I don’t think she is.”
Delilah laughed that laugh again. It was playful, a touch amused, but underneath, Hank could feel the seriousness. It was like a low, howling wind, a warning the storm is on its way. As she continued to laugh, all he could think of was razor sharp, sweet candy.
Pistol Fanny's Hank & Delilah Page 8