Pistol Fanny's Hank & Delilah

by Welch, Annie Rose

  Delilah had kissed him on the cheek after their dance and then showed him to his room. It was a gentle blue, with a four-poster bed that was actually four light-colored trees. Hank found himself staring at the trees to give himself something to look at.

  He had to calm his mind, placate his heart a bit so he could rest. His thoughts were jumbled, all running together like a bunch of run-on sentences that really made no sense. He would think about Delilah one moment, just to have another thought about Pistollette. Then he would think about Booty and Cray and all that deadly nonsense.

  He would think about Curly and whether Tommy had used Barb yet. He knew he had that natural smell that no one wants to call stench, and he had to set into motion some sort of plan. He also needed a shave, he observed after running a hand down his face. He thought about June-bug and her affair with Preacher John.

  Other than that, all he knew he wanted to do was spend more time with Delilah.

  He heard a quiet knock at the door. He rose up, resting his weight on his elbows, and waited a few minutes. When the door didn’t move, he cleared his throat and told whomever it was to come in. A black nose nudged the door the rest of the way. Freud stood there, staring at him. Hank waved him in. After he entered, the prim and proper bloodhound nudged it until only a crack was visible.

  Hank was happy to have company. He patted the bed and Freud didn’t hesitate to jump in next to him. Hank started to pet his head and Freud’s eyes seemed to sag more than usual. Hank looked into his eyes and they were just so…damn understanding. In that moment, he could share any secret in the world with that dog. And he did. Hank started rambling at whisper volume.

  “I’m going out of my mind, Freud. I can’t concentrate. You know what I did? I put salt in my coffee. I pickled my coffee. I love two girls, Freud. Delilah, your girl, she doesn’t want me to tell her but I’d really like to. Someday. I can’t now because, well, it wouldn’t be fair. Have you ever loved two girls? What did you do? You gotta understand, don’t you? You’re surrounded by a bunch of them all the time. No wonder you enjoy porkers so much, you’re a stress eater. See how they got you all hemmed up, Freud…”

  Hank continued to rattle on and on, just like he had a habit to sometimes when he was nervous, or stressed, or confused. It didn’t happen all the time. Most of the time he was pretty quiet in those instances, but if the problem were long term, he’d let it build until finally he burst.

  Hank stopped letting it burst when he heard Delilah laughing as she passed his door. He didn’t even hear the floor creak when she walked. She was so light on her feet it was almost unsettling. But she wasn’t unsettling. She was addicting, beautiful, with a great sense of humor, and a smile that would make…

  “Come on, Freud,” Delilah called. “Your session’s up. It’s time to get to work, baby boy.” She let out a high-pitched whistle, the kind you make with your fingers.

  Freud groaned but ran behind her, deserting Hank all together.

  What a traitor, Hank thought. She’d probably withhold the porkers if he didn’t obey. Hank shook his head, fluffing his pillow before he turned over and closed his eyes. After a few minutes of nothing, no thoughts, no sounds, just the steady rhythm of his heart, Hank realized he felt better. And that’s all it took for him to fall fast asleep.

  Hank stirred in his sleep until the uneasy movements forced him awake. The sun was burning through the curtains, hot and relentless, headed off no time soon. Hank showered and then stared at his reflection in the mirror for a few minutes. The cut on his head was going to make a scar. He ran a finger over the tender area, wincing as he did. Not because it was still tender, but because he pitied his head after Rotunda had bashed it.

  Trying to ignore the memory, he dressed and left his hair to dry on its own.

  He tapped on Delilah’s door, but there was no answer. He made his way to the kitchen, following the scents of food cooking, wafting in the air like a mouthwatering dream. Pepsi was there, preparing homemade bread.

  “Good morning.” She smiled. “You hungry, Hank? Want something to drink?”

  “Something to drink, if it isn’t too much trouble. Thank you, Ms. Pepsi.”

  “Oh, sure thing. Would you like some coffee? You still look a bit tired. You didn’t sleep much.”

  “Coffee sounds great. I don’t feel like I slept long. How late is it?”

  “About ten. Sugar?” She paused with the cup in her hand.

  Hank nodded. She scooped a few spoonfuls into the cup. She left the spoon in and handed it to him.

  He thanked her kindly before stirring the cup. The aroma made its way into his nostrils and he inhaled deeply, appreciating the scent of it. He blew it off and then took a sip. “Is Delilah still asleep?”

  “Lordy, no. She’s out doing her work.”

  “Her work?”

  “You know.” Pepsi started jumping up and down, flexing her arms and then punching the air. Then she slapped it, shaking her head and ticking her mouth. “Follow me. She’s right out back.”

  Hank took another drink of his coffee as he walked with her through the house. She opened the back door and led them out to the back porch. A white wooden swing hung from the ceiling. On the other side stood a matching round white table with four chairs.

  Pink sweetheart roses grew along the ground like dainty carpeting. Honeysuckle grew wild, along with white gardenia. Pink, red, and white camellias bloomed everywhere—they took whatever space was available, it seemed. The rest of the yard was a heavily wooded area with lots of tall trees, bushes, and leaves.

  Delilah was in the woods with Freud. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, her head and workout clothes dripping with sweat. She was moving her legs back and forth, one side to the other, like she was dancing. Freud followed her step for step. They would dance for a few minutes, and then they’d take off into the woods and she’d disappear.

  “How long has she been doing this?” Hank gestured to the woods with his cup.

  Pepsi sighed. “Since,” she thought for a moment, before nodding to herself. “Right after you both arrived home last night. I worry about her sometimes. I truly do.”

  Delilah popped up. She was moving those legs again. Then she stopped, crouching to the ground like a cat about to pounce on prey. There was a moment when Hank felt like the world stopped, she was so still, and then she moved. And everything began again.

  “Ain’t nothin’ but pure hate driving that girl on.” Pepsi shook her head. “You have to be possessed by something to have that kind of drive. It might come naturally, but there’s always something fueling it.”

  “Like what?”

  “Ghosts.” Pepsi tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to her. “If you’re thinking of going out there with her, let me just warn you. Out there, she’s a lion-ess. Don’t play the pray part.” Before he could ask any more questions, she disappeared back into the house, the screen door slamming behind her.

  Hank left his coffee on the table and walked down the steps leading into the yard. When he finally made it to her, she turned to him and smiled. Her cheeks were rosy with a sweat-induced glow, her hair matted to her head in swirling patterns, and she had that mischievous look in her eye—she wanted to play.

  The lion-ess, as Pepsi had called her, slowly circled him until she was behind him. She took a deep breath, her warm breath tickling his neck before she covered his eyes with her hands. Her moist fingers left his eyes, but by the time he turned around, she was already gone. She moved so quietly, the motion reminded Hank of the gentlest of breezes barely touching the ground. It raised gooseflesh on his arms, almost like a whisper barely grazing your ear.

  Heavy breathing was emanating from the wood’s floor. He looked down. Freud was sitting next to him, panting like a big dog.

  “Over here, Hank!”

  Hank looked up, searching the entire wood, scanning every crevice that his eyes could possibly behold. He couldn’t find her anywhere. He had a mighty need to go look for her, but
he denied it, knowing it was a waste of his time. He wasn’t playing the gazelle at the watering hole.

  A few seconds later. “Over here.” He looked around, nothing. “Over here.” Again, nothing. Then he felt her hands over his eyes. She was laughing that laugh.

  Hank slowly turned around, her hands still covering his eyes. He could feel her moving into him. She let go of his eyes, and before he could open them, her back was to his front. She took his hands and slid them up her body, caressing every delicious dip and curve, leaving his hands resting on each side of her head. Like dropping a sleek glass out of your shaky hold, she flew to the ground. Her leg came up, the air whooshing with the quickness of the motion, and whatever she was imagining in his hands was knocked out.

  She jumped to her feet and smiled. “Ta da!” Freud barked in circles, like he was applauding her.

  “What are you doing out here?” Hank shook his head. “You should be sleeping.”

  “There’s plenty of time to sleep once you’re dead. There’s no rest for the weary, Hank. No rest at all. I have things to do, stuff to accomplish.”

  Hank tenderly wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and exhaling as she did. When she pulled away he took her slippery hand, not wanting to break the connection. “Walk through the woods with me?”

  She nodded, gripping his hand tighter. As they began to walk away, they heard a car pulling up in the driveway. Freud ran toward the vehicle, his tail wagging real friendly like, expectantly waiting. Hank looked at Delilah. She was staring toward the car, no expression on her face. Two men in dapper suits stepped out of the large SUV carrying the identifiable smell of authority with them.

  Seeing as the gentlemen dog was being extremely hospitable at the moment, both of the men bent down to give him a rub behind the dangling ear. He was nudging them with his nose and licking them.

  Hank knew they were some type of law enforcement just by the way they walked, the way in which they held themselves. He went to walk to them when Delilah put a hand to his chest. After a few seconds of the petting game, Freud ran back to Delilah.

  Freud stopped in front of Delilah, staring at her with a secret gleam in his eye. He bayed once, shook his head as though he was trying to swat sucking mosquitos away from his flesh. He walked in a circle three times. He sat once, stood, and then sat again. Then he fell over, like someone had shot and killed him.

  “My, my, my,” Delilah whispered to herself, her eyes narrowed ahead. “Who do we have here?”

  “What was Freud doing?”

  “Oh, he just wants to play. Hank, will you wait with Freud for just a minute?”

  Not wanting to be ignored by Hank staring after Delilah, Freud nudged him with his nose. He had risen from the dead and wanted to be made over because of it.

  Delilah walked over to the men and they shook hands. They started talking, their voices raising every so often, the vibration of it coming toward Hank like a bunch of buzzing bees. Every once in a while she would look back at Hank. He knew they were there for him. Probably wanting to know why he disappeared after the bank had been robbed. Delilah shook her head once. Then the two men moved toward the porch, taking seats at the table.

  Delilah moved back toward Hank. They watched her as she did.

  Heaven Almighty, she was gorgeous.

  When they were face to face, she said, “Hug me, Hank.”

  Hank put his arms around her and tried not to look at the men.

  She whispered in his ear. “Tell them she took you. Don’t tell them that you ran behind her. Tell them you didn’t go back because she threatened you. You were too afraid to come forward. I picked you up in Memphis and we’ve been together ever since.” She pulled back, looking him in the eye, and then nodded.

  Hank knew she nodded to make it look like she was reassuring him. If he were to tell them that story, he would have to be shaken up by it all. Delilah was playing the part of tender confident. He took her hand, leading her back to the table where the men sat.

  They both stood at once and offered their hands. One of them wiped at his mouth and Hank noticed his nails and fingers were stained yellow from tobacco. Hank looked him over, finding the bulge in his front pocket where he kept the pack of cigarettes. The other one had white pimples all over his jagged, dark skin. The one with the yellow hands introduced his partner as Agent Wyser, and himself as Agent Cody, both FBI agents.

  Questions had to be asked—there was a robbery in Tupelo that he had witnessed. Would he mind answering them?

  Of course not, Hank answered easily. Why would he? He had nothing to hide.

  The two men sat back down with a cordial nod, but their posture made it apparent that they were wary of him, nonetheless.

  Hank offered Delilah a seat, but she shook her head. “Would you boys like something to drink? Sweet tea?”

  They both nodded, thanked her.

  When she got to the screen door, she stopped. “Hank, before I forget. Melody called, she said one of your friends left their phone at the bar. Must have forgotten it at the table. She wasn’t sure which friend it belonged to. She said to tell you when you had a chance, to call her anytime, the bar has been dead for days it seems. She ain’t got nothing better to do than return it to whichever guy it belongs to. I’ll be back soon with your drinks.”

  Hank thought about that for a moment. She was secretly telling him they hadn’t talked to Curly yet. She was much too sharp. Why did that make him feel so damn good?

  A sharp clearing of the throat brought him back to the table and away from his thoughts. They made small talk at first. Agent Wyser asked him about law school while Agent Cody thumbed through some papers. The conversation turned to his stepfather and Tupelo after that.

  Delilah interrupted for a moment, setting out a tray filled with iced sweet teas, lemon, mint, and more sugar. Pepsi came to the door right behind her, her eyes narrowed and a scowl on her face.

  Pepsi pressed her nose to the screen. “Mmmhmm. Ya’ll up to no good around here. Mmmhmm.” She went again.

  Delilah went back inside, taking Pepsi with her.

  Hank wasn’t sure what was going on. He was real nervous, though. The air was electric, causing Hank’s heart to beat at a dangerous speed.

  The agents had to be wondering why he wasn’t there to give a statement like the rest of the witnesses in the bank. What could he say? He wasn’t pinning this on Pistollette. She didn’t force him to go, he ran behind her. She was disappointed that he had followed her and even asked before she had Rotunda knock him out.

  A daunting realization surged over him then, his heart hammering even faster. God Almighty, he was going to have to lie to men of the law! Men he was supposed to be aiding, not misleading. How quickly just a little dabble in a life of crime could corrupt the otherwise incorruptible.

  No reason to beat around the bush. Tea and all the accoutrements weren’t going to stop the inevitable. “Listen,” Hank said, leaning over his legs, holding his hands. He took turns looking both of the agents in their eyes. “I know you’re probably wondering why I wasn’t there to give my statement. I was there when the bank was robbed. I saw the entire thing and I’ll tell you exactly what I saw, my account probably the same as the rest. I did run after. I’ll admit.”

  Agent Wyser picked up his glass and examined it for a moment, condensation dripping from the glass like beads of sweat. Indecision floated in his eyes. Agent Wyser blinked as if he were setting a spell free, and he put the glass down. “Are you and Ms. Turner seeing each other?”

  Hank paused. “I say yes, but she says yes and no. Depends on when you ask her.”

  Agent Cody laughed, picking up his glass. He put the glass close to his nose, sniffing for a moment, but then put it back down before he took a drink. “Have you been seeing her long?”

  “Not really.”

  “How long have you known her?”

  “Not long.”

  “Hmm,” Agent Wyser, muttered. “
Is it serious between you two?”

  Hank didn’t understand their line of questioning. Where were they going with this? Why weren’t they asking more questions about the robbery? Unless…“Am I a suspect?”

  “Of course not,” Agent Cody assured him. “We talked to your mother, June-bug, and we asked her why you wouldn’t want to talk to us. She had no idea. We asked her if you were seeing anyone and she said no.” He gave Hank a look that told him that he was acknowledging the discrepancies between his words and his mother’s. “But sometimes there’s more to it. Sometimes when people are in a steady relationship and are caught in the wrong place at the right time, they try to avoid us. You know the old story. It makes for an uncomfortable situation when the guilty party has to explain their whereabouts to us with their significant other standing by. Sheriff Sur Cotton told us you left to blow off some steam. We just find the situation a little…strange.”

  “I understand,” Hank said, not really understanding at all.

  “Why is it your mother doesn’t know about Ms. Turner?” Agent Wyser asked.

  Hank got the feeling right then. Something didn’t sit right with Hank. They hadn’t even discussed the robbery. They kept directing their questions toward Delilah and their relationship. And not once had they mentioned Curly.

  “I don’t tell my mother everything. She can get a little too motherly when it comes to me and dating.”

  “How did you end up in Memphis?”

  “I called Delilah to pick me up after I ran out of the bank.” Hank was so easy with the lies! They were flowing like wine and he was coming up with them with no trouble at all.

  “Why?”

  Hank knew this was the big one. “Here’s the truth. I told my mother I had a wedding to go to in Tupelo and I went, for a little while. I told her I wasn’t staying long. I was going to just offer my congratulations and then head to Memphis with a few friends. I was actually going to call Delilah, but I didn’t mention that to her—she can get testy when she gets motherly. But I lied to my mother. I lied to her because even though I was going to Memphis at some point, I wasn’t going right away. I had reason to believe my mother was having an affair with my biological father.”