Hank turned his body, trying to see. He looked up at the window he knew was there and was met by a small blue light, a puff of smoke, and the face of the Joker. He flung his body back into the seat. A light came on in the cabin. Pistollette was looking down on him, her eyes steady and strong.
The Joker man pointed a finger at Hank. He was smoking one of those electronic cigarettes; puffs of white smoke followed him around in the blackness, turning their underground world grey.
“Are we safe under here?” Stroke whispered.
“As safe as was we gonna be.” Rotunda sighed. “We’re going to have to wait a while, and when Pistollette says it’s time to go, we move. No questions, you follow. Don’t make me pop you again.”
Hank sat next to Pistollette. His hands were shaking so bad, he felt like he had tremors. He leaned his head against the seat and took a deep breath.
“Are you always trying to bury yourself?” he whispered.
She shrugged. Tap to Jellyfish, tap to Rotunda. “Honey Hole, Pistollette says she doesn’t know what you expect from her. You’re running with a bunch of outlaws. You seem to forget that. It’s ride or die, baby. Ride or die.”
Hank stared at Pistollette. She stared back. Hank made a writing motion with his fingers. More taps, and then a pencil and pad were passed back.
Pistollette wrote first: Why you following me around like a wild heathen, anyhow?
Hank wrote: I told you why. I have to save you.
There ain’t no saving me.
You think you’re running your own life, but you’re not.
No, you’re right, my life runs me.
I don’t see you dancing and having as much fun as your sisters.
I’m the designated driver. I have a responsibility to keep my girls safe, to keep those people in the bank safe. To make sure no one gets hurt. This is no game. Even though, it is fun sometimes.
Do you get an adrenaline rush when you rob banks? Does it make you feel good, like you’re high?
Pistollette paused, and Hank could imagine a smirk underneath the mask. She wrote: Not nearly as high as I feel when I’m around you. Just the thought of you gives me more adrenaline than I know what to do with. Beyond robbing. Beyond butterflies.
Hank took a moment to catch his breath. He tapped pen against paper. “Hey Rotunda, how fast can she shoot?”
“Put it this way. You see that fly on the window next to Cheshire Cat here? She can shoot it dead before it knows it’s even landed. I guarantee. Ain’t nobody shoots as fast as Pistollette. She’d win records if she could enter contests. I bet she would hold the world record. I guarantee. She can split a bullet in half when she aims at an axe head. That’s how accurate she is.”
Pistollette threw her hands up and they landed on her thighs with a welting slap.
Rotunda laughed. “She’s perturbed with you, Honey Hole. You’re asking questions like she ain’t here.”
The fly buzzed around the interior. Everyone swatted at it occasionally. Jellyfish knocked on Cheshire’s shoulder. It landed on the window again. Cheshire watched it, like a cat would watch a fly swimming around in milk. Swat. It was dead.
Hank wrote: I’m not sure how to feel about this. Any of it. I’m so damn confused. I’m holding on because I need you. I need to feel whole. I know you need saving, but I think I need it too.
She scribbled for a moment. Whatever you want from me, you can have it. I don’t know why I need you either. I just want you to stay with me while I’m here. You give me good dreams.
Hank had to steady his hand: Who are you?
She didn’t hesitate: Remove my mask.
Pistollette moved closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. She stared at him so intensely that he couldn’t catch his breath. She was stealing his air, his everything. He was trapped, wrapped up in her, not sure if he could ever untangle himself.
Slowly, she moved up on her knees and, one leg at a time, she wrapped them around his waist. She placed a hand on each of his shoulders, rubbing her body against his until they were eye to eye. She turned the lights off again.
Her hands moved gently down his arms until their fingers were tangled. She moved them up and down her body; it was foreign and unknown to him. He could feel the padding, the cold metal on her sides. He could feel the deep sway of her hips, the roundness of her stomach, her ripe, succulent breasts.
Hank leaned forward, pressing his lips to her ear. “Are you…” He could hardly say the words. It was Delilah, him, Pistollette, Delilah, him and Pistollette…They were all so damn tangled together. His head was dizzy and all the blood flow in his body was being sucked downward.
She pressed her finger into his chest, moved his hands to her face. She was daring him. Always daring him. His hands were trembling as he felt the porcelain texture of the mask. Almost like second skin on her body and delicate as gossamer wings. He ran his fingers down her neck. Before he reached under and discovered her, he pulled his fingers back, like he’d been burned.
“I can’t…I just can’t do it,” he whispered.
He could feel her head move up and down, nodding her understanding, and then she moved her body away from his. She turned the light back on. More taps. Rotunda said they’d be there for a while, so they might as well get comfortable. Everyone seemed to relax then. The guys on the floor relived the robbery, the chase. The girls would nod or have Rotunda talk for them when they had something to say or were asked a question.
Hours passed and Hank wrote another note to Pistollette.
Feeling better after having the flu?
Pistollette wrote: Not really. It did a number on my stomach.
“Did you know I was going to be waiting on you in those banks?” Hank said aloud.
Pistollette nodded. Her eyes met Rotunda’s.
“A woman named Barb spread some rumors around town that you’d be waiting for your Pistollette. We coordinated our mines—I mean—our schedule with your schedule.”
“It really wasn’t fate?” Hank said, a slight edge to his voice. Even though he considered Tommy’s plans loose, he always kept just an ounce of hope that fate did have something to do with it. Maybe the risks would mean something then—that he wasn’t just delirious with love and danger.
“A little. It was fate we could change our plans, but it was mostly Barb,” Rotunda said.
Hank looked at Tommy.
“I g-got you here, didn’t I?” Tommy whispered and then shrugged. Then a slow smile lit his face with accomplishment.
Hank hesitated but went with it. He wrote: Why did you kill that man in California?
Pistollette shook her head. She wrote: I didn’t.
Who did?
Another woman in California.
Hank crumbled the note after that, not able to communicate any longer.
Once night fell upon them, they were asked to wait outside of the van with the man— the electronic smoker with the Joker face. The girls emerged not long after, each holding a bag. They each had to climb a ladder to climb their way out of the hole.
The woods were dark and cold, the guys all rubbing their arms from the frost. They walked in silence, Pistollette leading the entire group, Rotunda leading the men. As they walked, the Joker slapped Hank in the back of the head. Hank stopped for a moment, staring at the man. He wanted to say something, but he was just too damn tired. Pistollette slapped the Joker and shook her head.
When they arrived at the edge of the highway, there were two cars waiting. Rotunda directed the guys to the car intended for them, and her and the girls, along with the Joker, got into the other. Stroke had a note from Zoo Zoo and Wham Wham tucked into his back pocket. Rotunda had written it, while Zoo Zoo and Wham Wham tapped her fingers away. Even though they trusted the guys, they didn’t.
Hank and Pistollette stood at the end of the road. She handed him another note.
This is the end. No more riding along.
Hank shook his head. “I don’t want it to be. You know the life of an
outlaw ain’t no good without her sidekick. She’ll just get lonely.”
She shrugged. Then she wrapped her arms around him tightly, inhaling him. Before he could hold on to her, she was in the waiting car, and then she was gone. He watched as the red lights faded down the highway, disappearing into the moonless night.
He toyed with the paper in his hands. Finally, after a few minutes, he opened the letter.
I’m bluer than blue. I’m not sure I’m going to know what to do without you. I love you more than the air that I breathe. You’re my once-in-a-lifetime partner, my shot-gun rider. You’re my Honey Hole. Please show me something I don’t know. Look in your pocket.
Yours for Always and Forever,
Pistollette
Hank felt in his pocket. There was a pack of matches tucked inside. She had written the note. She was daring him again. Although she was gone, Hank knew that if he didn’t destroy the evidence, she would know. He smelled the paper and then set it on fire. Nothing but ashes left to blow away in the wind after it was through burning.
After arriving back in Tupelo, the first thing Hank did was call Delilah. He couldn’t stop thinking of her, couldn’t stop dreaming of her. He was feeling sick again. He was sick of being away from her, sick of missing her to the point of insanity. He was sick of being avoided. All out of ideas, he called the house in Magnolia Springs.
“Pepsi,” Hank yelled. “God Almighty, Pepsi! It’s so good to hear your voice.”
She laughed. “It’s me all right. But by the sounds of you, you’d think I was Ed McMahon and I was delivering that one million dollar check.”
“You’re better than a million bucks.”
“I’ve waited all my life for a man to tell me that. And here you come, half my age and insane, and I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.” She laughed again. “Why are you doing this to yourself, baby? You know she won’t talk to you.”
“I know, but I have to try. I really miss her, Pepsi. Where is she? I’ve got to see her. I just need to talk to her.”
There was a long sigh. “Hold on a second, baby.” The phone sounded like it was being rubbed against a soft surface, and then Pepsi’s voice. “Dear Lord, I can’t believe I’m doing this. Oh, sweet Jesus, please forgive me ahead of time. That girl done got me all hemmed up in her love troubles. I’ve premeditated this sin. Na’, you know I don’t usually do this, but…if you’re unhappy with me, even though I’m apologizing now instead of after, I’m sure you’ll let me know soon. Oh, sweet Jesus.”
A deep breath blew against the receiver. “Hank, you still there, baby? Oh, you are. I was hoping you hung up. Wishful thinking, I guess. It’s not you. It’s me. Oh shoot, I didn’t mean to say that. Isn’t that what all the young kids say these days? Wait, I need to collect myself. No, I have this. I hate having to tell you this, but…Delilah is getting married.”
Hank’s heart went cold and his body went slack. Someone had stolen all that air from him that he needed to breathe. He fell to his knees. “What?”
“Yeah, I’m real sorry, baby. She’s getting married. She hopes you’ll understand…oh, will you look at the time? I have to get going. My Pabst beer girls are on their way over…”
“Pepsi, please…who is she marrying? That man at the bar? The one with the black hair?”
“Doc Houston?” There was a short pause. “Yeah, mmmhmm, that’d be him.”
“When?” Hank had to push the word out. He felt like a fish out of water.
“Real soon, Hank. Mmmhmm, real soon.” Silence. “Hank? Hank? Are you still there? Oh, Hank! Sweet Jesus! Hank, you still on the line?”
Pepsi stood on the line, calling for Hank, until her line went dead. Hank was already on his way to Alabama.
As Hank, Curly, Dylan, Tommy, Stroke, and Jesse pulled up the long drive in Magnolia Springs, the house was aglow. The windows seemed butter yellow, the outside air halogen. The wind blew sharp and the trees swayed. Hank could smell a fireplace burning, could see those Pabst blue ribbon girls moving about the house. Music drifted to the sway of the night. “If I were your woman…and you were my man…”
The guys trudged their way to the door, through the thick Alabama clay mud, and as they made their way up to the door, they heard someone scream “Yahtzee!” Freud was waiting, his nose pressed against the screen, wagging his tail, baying.
Hank noticed there was an easel on the porch. A sheet of paper clasped to it rustled in the wind. Next to it on the ground sat an old tin can filled with brushes; a handkerchief draping the side was stained with paint. Pepsi appeared from the darkened shadows. She narrowed her eyes when she saw Hank.
“What you doing here, baby? I just knew it when you hung up on me. I said to myself, ‘Pepsi, that boy is going to come here, you know he is.’ And here you are.”
Hank took a deep breath of cool air. He leaned his head against the wooden doorframe and shut his eyes. “Please don’t send me away.”
“Sweet Jesus.” Pepsi opened the screen door and it creaked. “Come on in. Come on, na’. Just don’t stand around. We got plenty of food. I fried soft shell crabs, catfish, okra, and a few tomatoes. My friend, Ginger Gnat, she boiled some shrimp. We have cold beers and hot coffee too.”
“Pepsi, this is my little brother, Curly. And these are my friends…” Hank introduced them all. “Boys, this is Ms. Pepsi. She’s Delilah’s best friend.”
Pepsi hugged them all, welcomed them in. They all filed in the door, Hank coming up last. Pepsi pointed toward the kitchen, said her Pabst girls would be in there to meet them. She stopped Hank at the door with a hand on the chest, and then she pointed to the rocking chairs on the porch.
“I’ll be right back. Have a seat.” Her eyes held his, stern but with compassion. When he hesitated, she nodded. “I’ll be right back. I swear it.”
Hank followed her orders and took a seat outside. Freud rested right next to him. Hank rocked back and forth, opening and closing his hands constantly. Chewing constantly. Pepsi came back carrying a tray of milk and those coconut cookies she had made for Delilah.
She placed the tray between them and then took a seat next to him. She rocked a bit before she wrapped the thin sweater around her body. Pepsi watched him with worried eyes. Then she cleared her throat.
“Here are the rules, Hank. We can have our little chat. ’Cause you sure look like you deserve one and you need one. But, you and your friends, you stay here with me tonight. Come morning, you can go about your business. And you, you have to eat something. Eat something and get a good night’s sleep. If you can do that for me, we’ll talk. I can’t stand to see you this way, and I can’t send you on your way without knowing you haven’t had a little of each. It’d be a sin if I did. And I ain’t no angel, but I don’t purposely try to join the devils chorus. Do we understand each other?”
“Perfectly,” Hank said. Then he stood, pacing the floor. “She can’t go through with this, Pepsi. She just can’t. You and I both know it’s a mistake. I’m the only one who can love her like she is supposed to be loved. How she deserves to be loved. I don’t understand—” Hank pulled at his hair “—why she’s doing this! Oh, hell no. She can’t marry him. I think I might…I just might…”
“Come sit next to me, baby.” Pepsi patted the rocker next to her. “It won’t do you a lick of good to waste your energy on worrying or being angry. Easier said than done, I know. But if we’re going to talk, then you need to just try to relax yourself. The world is your front porch here; take advantage for a while.”
Hank hesitated but sat back down.
“Good, that’s real good.” She sighed. “Boy, I know you have common sense, but for the life of me I can’t understand what you’re doing with it. But you know what Hennessey always says? He says, sometimes sense is just that, cents. You know, like pennies in your pocket. And how often do people disregard coins, you know? They even vacuum them up, like if they have no value whatsoever. I know he’s crazier than a loon, but you have to give him credit, he’s ab
out the only man that has survived them this long. He knows what he’s talking about.” She smiled. “You want me to tell you about Delilah Mae? When she was just a baby girl?”
Hank nodded. “Yes, ma’am. That’d be real nice.”
“Ah.” She slapped the air. “What a little beauty she was. Still is, as you’re well aware. She had the most beautiful auburn hair, peachy porcelain skin, and those eyes. Those eyes! She was something, I’ll tell you that much. Just one of those children you knew was destined for big things. It was something about her. She had that spark that people always go on about. She had it since the moment she opened those eyes. She’d walk into the room and the air would be sucked straight out of it. People would have to look at her to catch their breath back, like she stole it right from underneath their noses. She can still do that to this day. Walk into a room, and whoosh, all the air drains. Then she smiles, and it comes back again.
“She had that vibrancy to her, that forever-young spirit that captures so many. But she was also one of those children who had an ancient soul. You know those little people who you talk to for just a moment and you think, Sweet Jesus, that ain’t no child, that’s an ancient person in a new little body? That was Delilah. She’s always been a deep thinker—”
“Always so fierce, I bet.” Hank pressed his thumb over his palm, over and over, trying to calm himself down. It was a waste to even try, he knew, but if he was going to sit through this, he had to try something.
Pepsi shook her head. “No, baby. Not at all.”
Hank looked up at her then. The tone of her voice alarmed him. It was soft, but there was an urgent undertone to it that made the hairs on his arms rise and a prickle run down his back.
“You’d have never met a more timid child in your life than Delilah Mae. She was afraid of her own shadow. I’d sometimes have sleepovers at my place, and she’d come over and my children were always asleep at a certain time. But like I told you before, Delilah always had her days and nights mixed up. And I’d stay up late some nights, listening to my radio, and I wouldn’t even hear her coming. Next thing I know, she’d be standing right beside me. A real thoughtful look on her face, but her lip would tremble sometime. Her little lips turned downward. She’d put her little hand on my arm and I could just feel the fear coming from her.
Pistol Fanny's Hank & Delilah Page 24