by Geonn Cannon
"Oh," Jodie said. She chuckled and pointed through the windshield. "Take a right here. Go past two stoplights, turn onto Singles Street."
"A bar on Singles Street?"
"Strange but true. Not as strange as a strip club would be, but, hey, we take what we can get."
Lance grinned. She followed Jodie's instructions until she found the bar. A simple green sign with gold lettering announced that she was in the right place. "Keep driving to the end of the block," Jodie said. "There's a garage that offers free parking until midnight."
"Does that mean we're leaving before midnight?"
"If we're not, I'll pay for your ticket."
Lance smiled. She found an empty space and looked around the garage as she got out of the car. "Is this a safe neighborhood?"
"Very high class," Jodie said. "The kind of neighborhood that shouldn't let grease monkeys like us in."
"Works for me," Lance said. She locked the car and let Jodie lead the way to the street.
Jodie held the door open for Lance. "Welcome to my favorite watering hole. Just pay no attention to the bullshit all over the walls."
"Whatever you say," Lance said.
The bar was nothing like what she expected. It was well-lit, sedate, and classic rock music was playing quietly from speakers hanging near the ceiling. The bar started just inside the door and then curved to follow a mirrored wall. A row of booths stood along the opposite wall under framed newspapers, half of the booths occupied. Between the bar and the booths, a sea of empty tables were pushed aside to create a makeshift dance floor.
The man behind the bar looked up and said, "Calico! And you brought a non-Tania friend!" He took a glass from beneath the bar and said, "Any non-Tania friend of Calico's drinks for free at Castaneda's."
"I can see why you said this place is the best," Lance said.
"Yeah, yeah," Jodie said. She was smiling, but her eyes were angry. "She's still my girlfriend, Butch. Lay off, okay?"
Butch held his hands out in surrender. "I apologize, Calico. What's your friend drinking?"
Lance said, "Rolling Rock, if you have it. In a glass."
"Sign says 'bar,' don't it? Be false advertising if I didn't have the true king of beers." He poured a bottle into a glass and pushed it across the bar to Lance. "Welcome to Castaneda's."
Lance dipped her chin in thanks, picked up her glass as Jodie took the bottle of Budweiser that Butch held out to her. They walked toward one of the empty booths, and one of the framed newspapers that hung over the tables caught Lance's eye. Suddenly she understood why Jodie warned her about the stuff on the walls.
The newspaper over their booth was the front page of the local paper's sports section. "Jodie Curran Wins Fourth Straight Heat." The black and white photo showed Jodie, clad in a high-collared flame-proof suit, standing on a racetrack. She was looking down at her feet, where someone was kneeling. Lance looked at Jodie, who shook her head and motioned for Lance to sit.
"I race sometimes. It's not Formula One or NASCAR. Just a bunch of dinky little statewide competitions at the moment, but I'm hoping to go national one day."
Lance nodded and looked up at the newspaper clipping. "Looks like you do well."
Jodie shrugged. "I do okay. I'm happy with my job at the garage, and racing gives me that little thrill on the occasional weekend. Maybe in ten years or so I'll make it to the big time, but I'm not sure if that's what I really want. I don't want to take the fun out of racing."
Lance looked up at the clipping and heard another woman's voice in her head. "I'm never going to be Georgia O'Keefe and millionaires won't be hanging my work in their summer homes. But it makes me happy and it pays the rent. What else could a woman ask for?"
Jodie said, "Okay." Lance looked back at her and saw Jodie was making a 'let me have it' motion. "Let's get it all over with right now. All the jokes, snide comments, et cetera, ad infinitum."
"No jokes," Lance said. "What jokes would I make?"
"I like fast girls, for one. That's a favorite. There's a whole bunch under the category of 'women can't drive.'"
Lance shook her head. "No jokes. I promise. I do have a question, though."
"Just one? Must be a record. Shoot."
"Why do they call you Calico?"
Jodie took a drink of her beer, set the bottle to one side, and crossed her arms on the table. She lifted herself a bit and leaned forward. "Look into my eyes."
"Are you going to try and hypnotize me?"
The corners of Jodie's mouth twisted up. "Just do it, bitch."
Lance looked into Jodie's eyes. They were bright blue, like water in a kindergartener's finger painting. Except for... Lance frowned and leaned closer.
Jodie laughed and said, "Ah, the double take." She blinked and looked toward the ceiling. The majority of the iris was blue, but there was a green ring encircling the pupil of each eye. "It's called Central Heterochromia. In college, I used to say it was the only thing 'hetero' about me."
Lance grinned and leaned back. "That's pretty amazing."
Jodie leaned back as well and picked up her drink. "Growing up, it made me feel like a freak. But I got over that when I got older."
"Oh, yeah? How'd you do that?"
"I realized I could use it to make beautiful women stare into my eyes."
Lance managed to swallow her mouthful of beer without choking. Barely. She touched the back of her wrist to her mouth and Jodie hid a smile behind her bottle. "Sorry. I couldn't resist. I'm a terrible flirt. You're going to learn that eventually so we might as well get it out of the way as soon as possible."
"Duly noted."
Jodie tipped her bottle back for a long drink, put the bottle on the table, and smacked the seat next to her with her free hand. "Okay. Drink as much liquor as you need to get you out on the dance floor."
"We're dancing?"
"I'm dancing," Jodie said. "Whether you join me, or stay here and play stick in the mud, that's up to you." She winked and slipped out of the booth.
Lance watched her go and, once again, found her eyes drawn to Jodie's backside. She took another swig of beer and followed her out onto the floor. She wasn't sure what, exactly, she was doing, but she knew she'd regret it if she stayed in the booth.
The Rolling Stones were playing on the jukebox, so she managed to keep Jodie a good distance away from her as they danced. Once or twice during "Gimme Shelter," Jodie put her hands on Lance's hips, but the contact never lasted long. A few other dancers joined them, but they were mainly couples only interested in each other. Jodie seemed to notice they were outnumbered and only forced Lance to stay out for a couple of songs.
Jodie checked her watch on the way back to the table. "We gotta be well-rested if we want to be productive at work tomorrow."
"Probably be best," Lance said. "Are you ready to go?"
"Yep. I'll just go settle up with the barkeep. Could you bring my drink?"
"Sure," Lance said. She stood at the table and finished off the remnants of her beer. She picked up Jodie's drink and turned, pausing when she caught sight of Jodie at the bar.
Jodie was leaning against the polished surface, one foot raised on the footrest of the stool. The position caused her jeans to stretch taut across her rear end. Lance thought Jodie had a nice body in an unflattering coverall, but she was even better out of it. She took a sip of Jodie's beer just to wet her suddenly dry mouth as her rebellious mind wondered what Jodie was wearing underneath the coarse denim.
Down that road, madness lies, a voice whispered in her head. She walked across the floor and handed Jodie her beer.
"Thanks. I'll catch you later, Butch."
"Take it easy, Calico. And Calico's new friend."
As they stepped outside, they discovered that a summer shower had started while they were inside. Jodie burrowed against Lance's side and said, "Ah, God, I should have known. And me without my umbrella."
They huddled together under the bar's awning and waited for the rain to let up a little
before they trotted down the street to the garage. Lance tentatively put her arm around Jodie, trying to ignore how firm Jodie's body was as they tried to escape the weather.
Of course, the whisper in her head continued, it might be fun to go a little mad.
#
Interlude
Harrisburg, Idaho
Faye Mallory sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her socks. She curled her toes in the plush carpet and, for the fifth time in twenty minutes, turned her head to look at the gun on her nightstand. It was lying next to a glass with one finger of Scotch left in it. She reached over and brought her hand back with the Scotch and drank the last bit. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and bent down to put the glass on the floor.
It was nearly midnight in Idaho, which meant it was just barely early enough for a call in the next time zone over. She picked up her cell phone and flipped it open. She stared at the bright screen, the picture of her sister that served as her wallpaper, and then snapped it closed again. Eighteen hotels, eighteen clerks who didn't recognize Claire Lance's picture. She didn't even know what her plan was. Was she supposed to go to every single hotel in the damned state, ask every clerk on every shift whether or not they recognized someone who may or may not have stayed there three months earlier?
She picked up her glass before she remembered it was empty. She returned it to the nightstand and eyed her gun.
She's beaten you. Mallory closed her eyes. It was the voice that started so often after she killed a bottle of Scotch. She pressed two fingers to her temples and rubbed in a slow circle. She wins. All that's left is to tap out. One bright flash.
Mallory opened her eyes, flipped open the phone, and hit speed-dial. She put the phone to her ear and listened to the long, electronic note that indicated a ring on the other end. She was about to hang up when there was a click, and then a half-awake woman spoke.
"Hello?"
Mallory closed her eyes and a tear slid free. The barely-there accent was the same, but the voice was a little huskier thanks to a bullet. A centimeter one way would have missed her entirely, a centimeter the other way would have likely decapitated her. As it was, Texas Ranger Antonia Lazareva had gotten 'lucky' with just an ugly scar and a permanently raspy voice.
"Hello? Is anyone there?"
"Hi."
A pause. "Faye. Where are you?"
"One step behind." Mallory looked at the window. "Same place I've always been. Same place I'll always be."
"Take the bullets out of your gun."
"I did," Mallory said. "They're in the car."
"Good."
There was a long silence. Mallory wept quietly and stared at her socks, capturing threads of the carpet with her toes and then releasing them. "She killed my sister."
"I know."
"I can't stop."
"I know."
Mallory took a deep breath and then leaned back. She stretched out on the mattress and stared at the ceiling. "I'm sorry I keep calling you."
"You need someone to talk to. I'm happy to be that person."
"I do love you."
"I know," Toni whispered.
"I just can't—"
"Faye," Toni said, putting an end to the conversation they had gone through so many times. "I know."
Mallory wiped her cheeks and said, "I should go."
"Okay. Be well, Faye."
"I'll try. Good night, Toni."
"Good night, dear Faye. I love you, too."
Mallory disconnected the call and placed the phone on her stomach. She covered it with both hands, closed her eyes, and slowly let sleep take her. She would continue the search in the morning. Lance wouldn't be able to hide forever.
#
Chapter Three
Jodie slumped into the passenger seat of Carmen's Mustang—she really did adore the car—and pressed her elbow against the glass of her window. They were leaving the garage right under the window of free parking, saving Carmen a ticket. Jodie said, "Turn right out of the garage to the first stop light, go left for about two blocks, then another right, and I'll point out the building." She smiled. "I'll refresh those directions if you need me to."
"That's all right," Carmen said as she backed out of the spot. "I'm good at following directions."
Jodie smirked, but didn't make a comment. Carmen definitely had potential, at least as a coworker. And only as a coworker, she scolded herself. I don't even know if she's gay or not, although I definitely have suspicions.
"Can I ask you a question that might be a little over-reaching?" Carmen asked, intruding on Jodie's thoughts.
"Anything to keep me awake." She pushed herself up in the seat and widened her eyes in an effort to force them to stay open. "The buzz of Castaneda's is wearing off a little too quickly for my tastes."
"Those clippings at the bar said you were some kind of hotshot stock car driver. But you don't even have a car."
"That's not really a question," Jody said, "but I'll answer it anyway. I did have a car until about five months ago. I got a little too hotshot with it. I blew a tire at just over a hundred miles an hour."
"Shit," Carmen muttered. "And you're not dead because...?"
Jodie laughed. "Because God loves drunks and morons. I walked away without a scratch. I paid the price with my car, though. My beloved little Charger was totaled." She pushed her hair out of her eyes. "I'd like to say I learned my lesson, but the thrill is too good. When I finally do replace my baby, I'll probably be out on the same stretch within a matter of days, seeing if I can break my old speed record."
"So you're a speed freak?" Carmen asked. In the dim light, Jodie could see a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.
"Hell, yes. The faster the better." She pointed at an apartment building on the right. "That would be me, right there."
Carmen slowed, pulled to one side of the lane, and said, "Parking—"
"Is a bitch," Jodie said. "You can stop here." Jodie opened the door as soon as the car was stopped. "Thanks for being my designated driver. Of a sort."
Carmen nodded. "Happy to help. Do you need a ride tomorrow? I could swing by on my lunch break and pick you up if you don't want to work all day."
"No, I couldn't take up your break."
Carmen shrugged. "Either I miss fifteen minutes of lunch, or you work an extra four hours. Doesn't really make sense to me."
Jodie grinned. "Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse? Do you think you can find the place in the harsh light of day?"
Carmen looked around for landmarks. "Yeah, I think I can manage."
"Well, just in case." She opened the glove compartment and rooted around for a pen and something to write on. She wrote a series of numbers on the back of a fast food receipt. "This is my cell number. Give me a call if you need help with directions. Or, you know, if you just want to call and talk." She folded the receipt and handed it to Carmen. "Thanks again for the ride."
"It's no problem. Thanks for showing me Castaneda's."
Jodie looked at Carmen and said, "You looked like you needed a friend." Carmen turned and looked at her in the darkness and her eyes were so open that Jodie had to look away. She focused on the dashboard lights and said, "Well, you know. Whatever. Any excuse to get a new drinking buddy." She cleared her throat as a car behind them honked. "Oh, I think that's my cue. See you tomorrow at lunch."
"Yeah, tomorrow."
Jodie got out of the car and waved an apology to the car waiting behind the Mustang. At the front door of the building, she turned and waved good bye to Carmen. The Mustang pulled away and Jodie ducked into the dimly lit lobby of her building. She skipped the elevators and went up the stairs for the exercise.
Her apartment was on the fourth floor, and she had the key in hand as soon as she reached the landing. She barely got the door open before a dark shape appeared on the counter that extended out next to the door, separating the humble foyer from the even humbler living space. The creature leapt to the blonde wood of the floor and lifte
d its head with a plaintive "Mrrow."
Jodie crouched down without bothering to turn on the light and gathered the furry black and white cat in her arms. "Hey, Danica. Did you miss me?"
She kicked the door shut and deposited the cat back on the counter. She turned on the light and went into the living room. The cat trotted along the counter until it ran out of track, then jumped down onto the floor and followed her to the couch. As soon as Jodie was seated, the cat jumped onto her lap. She scratched Danica behind the ears and danced her fingers down her spine. Danica arched in appreciation and lifted her chin so Jodie knew to focus on her neck.
"You're spoiled, you know that?"
"You're the one who spoiled me."
Jodie managed to keep from jumping at the sound of the voice. She turned her head and saw Tania coming out of the bedroom. She wore white panties and a pink tank top, her long legs crossing as she walked into the main room.
"Why are you hiding in my apartment in the dark?" Jodie asked, returning her attention to the cat.
"I thought you'd be home at six. I finally got tired of waiting and went to bed."
"You know, after that fight, I was kind of hoping we would avoid each other for a few days before we got together for the official break-up."
"So? Even if we did call it quits, you're still working for my sister, and our paths will cross now and then, you know? We might as well try to be civil to one another." Tania crossed her arms over her chest. "So where were you?"
Jodie sighed. Danica seemed to sense the hostility in the room and leapt for the floor. Jodie watched her disappear behind the bookshelf, a favorite hidey hole, and wished getting away was that easy for her. She stood up, toed off her shoes, and pushed her coveralls down, lifting her legs in a marching cadence until the material pooled around her feet. Once she was down to her underwear, she kicked the coveralls away and walked into the kitchen. Tania followed. "Where were you?"
"We're not dating anymore, Tania."
"Says you."
"Says the women you fucked on the side," Jodie said under her breath.