Infamous (35 page)

She shook her head, but she was laughing.

“Gallagher:
Be ready for me,”
A.J. read.
“Tomorrow night. If you want Quinn to stay alive.”

Jamie snorted. “Total, stinking horse manure. Plus, it’s badly written. A two-bit melodrama.
Nooo!
Pah.”

“It’s what our audience wants to see,” Alison said. “They want bad guys who are really bad.”

“Like, say, a six-and-a-half-foot-tall man who regularly beat his wife?” A.J. asked.

“Touché,” she said. “So okay. Tell me. How did it really happen? Jamie approached Melody and said,
Excuse me, I can’t help but notice you need to be rescued from your brute of a husband?”

“Nope,” A.J. said. “She approached Jamie. August 7, 1898. It was the evening after that party the town threw for Melody. Quinn was drinking a lot. He was really pounding it down after the shoot-out at the Red Rock, because he was at something of a loss without Bo and the Kelly Gang. Plus he’d seen Jamie shoot, and he knew he couldn’t beat him at a quickdraw, so he was afraid to confront him. I think he was hoping Jamie would just win at cards and move on—he’d’ve been happy to see him go. But in the meantime, his injured leg was hurting and he was drinking to medicate that, as well.

“That night, he’d already put away a few bottles of gin and was snoring in their front parlor, so Melody used the opportunity to sneak out of the house. She put a cloak over her hair and went in through the back of the hotel, praying that no one would recognize her. She went to Jamie’s room—she bribed another serving girl to tell her which room was his—and she knocked on the door.”

“That was a shock,” Jamie said. “She was the last person on earth I expected to find when I opened my door at midnight. I actually had my gun drawn, because I thought it
might be Quinn, come to kill me for dancing with his wife the night before.”

“He wasn’t even dressed, but Melody pushed her way into his room,” A.J. told Alison. “She couldn’t risk being seen standing in the hall.”

“She didn’t even notice that I wasn’t wearing my pants.” Jamie sighed. “Here I’d been fantasizing about her for a full month, and she doesn’t even give my well-turned ankles a second glance.”

“Jamie quickly got dressed,” A.J. said, “and Melody came directly to the point of her visit. She’d come to make a business deal. She was looking for help getting out of town. Far out of town. She wanted to go to San Francisco. But there was a catch. She had no money to pay him, and no money to buy the food and supplies they’d need to make that long, dangerous trip to California. So instead, she offered to trade the only thing she had of any potential value.” He cleared his throat. “Her body.”

“Oh, God,” Alison said. “I am
so
glad I don’t live back then.”

“She took off her cloak and started unfastening her dress,” Jamie said. “I’m standing there thinking,
Am I dreaming?
And then her words sink in. She’s got nothing on her face, no emotion, nothing. She’s not in my room because she wants to be. She’s there because she has no choice.”

A.J. repeated Jamie’s words to Alison.

“So I stopped her,” Jamie said. “I couldn’t believe I was doing it, but I actually stopped her. I buttoned her dress back up and I told her she didn’t have to do this. I told her I’d take her to San Francisco anyway. I told her we’d leave tonight if we could, but … there was one little problem. Cash. As in
no
cash.

“I was in the red, both for my hotel bill and with a couple of gents I’d been playing cards with over the past few weeks,” Jamie continued, through A.J. “All I needed was one good game, one big win. I told Mel to pack a small bag, nothing too much, just a few things she might want to take with her, and be ready to go at any time. And then …”

“He kissed her,” A.J. said, because he’d heard this story often enough before. “He couldn’t resist. He kissed her, and he knew he was right to turn down her offer. Because she didn’t move. She didn’t kiss him back. It was as if she were completely numb.”

“I buttoned my shirt and put on my jacket,” Jamie said, with A.J. repeating the words for Alison to hear. “I was going to walk her back home, make sure no one saw her coming out of my room. I wrapped her cloak around her and was about to open the door when she suddenly asked why was I doing this? Why would I help her? And why didn’t I take what she had offered?

“I answered her honestly. I didn’t want sex. Oh, I wanted her, all right, but not as part of a business deal. I told her I knew it was crazy, but … I was in love with her.”

Jamie fell silent again, still as bemused by that revelation as he’d been that day, more than a hundred years ago.

“My great-grandmother didn’t say a word,” A.J. told Alison quietly. “She just looked at him as if he was speaking a language she didn’t understand. So Jamie saw her safely home, then went back to his room to pray for some divine intervention in the form of several winning hands in the next evening’s poker game. It took Jamie several more days, but he finally won enough to pay off his debts and ride out of town. So there you have it. All the events that transpired between Jamie and Melody before they left Jubilation.”

Jamie cleared his throat. “Well …” he said. “Not exactly all of ’em.”

“With Jamie’s reputation, it’s hard to believe he turned her down,” Alison said skeptically.

“There’s more?” A.J. asked Jamie.

Jamie sat back up on the kitchen counter, which put his face into shadows. “Tell Alison that I
did
turn Mel down—but only that first time. The next night, well … she sort of came back.”

“Really?” A.J. said.

“I never told you this part of the story before. You were too young.”

“You sure you want this on the record?” A.J. asked him.

Alison tapped the table in front of him. “Hey,” she said. “Let him tell it. Come on, Jamie. I’m listening.” She turned back to A.J. “No editing, okay?”

“The next night, Melody came to my room again,” Jamie said, A.J. repeating his words for Alison. “And this time she was nervous, almost shy. She told me that she couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d said the night before, about me being in love with her. That got her thinking about love, and about Quinn and how he’d never really loved her—he’d just wanted to possess her. Own her. And she started thinking about all that she’d missed. She told me that when I touched her, when I’d kissed her, she felt cherished and … safe. For the first time since she could remember, she felt safe.” He paused, clearing his throat. “She asked me to kiss her again, so of course, I did. And this time she kissed me back. It was so,
so
sweet and …” He paused, letting A.J. catch up before he said, “Long story short? This time? When she took off her dress, I most certainly did not turn her down.”

And there they sat, in silence.

Until Alison cleared her throat. “So they left Jubilation,” she said. “When?”

“Saturday morning, August 13, 1898. Three solid hours before dawn,” Jamie answered and A.J. relayed.

“And they outran Silas Quinn,” she said. “Even though Jamie couldn’t possibly have gone full speed with a woman riding sidesaddle.”

“She didn’t ride sidesaddle,” Jamie told her. “She rode astride, wearing a pair of my pants. The myth that she was an inexperienced rider? That was just another of Quinn’s lies. Her inexperience was with the desert, with camping, with hiding from Quinn. That’s where she needed my help.”

“The legend says that they left in haste,” Alison said. “Jamie left behind that famous pair of boots.”

“We took very little with us, in the way of clothing,” he countered. “Nearly all of our luggage held water and food. That’s why I left those boots behind. We weren’t in a hurry—in fact, we waited an extra day for Quinn to get a good old
drunk on. He was hungover as hell that morning when he awoke. Some hero, huh? And can I just say? Mel didn’t mind leaving her dresses behind, not one bit. Even after we got to San Francisco, she preferred wearing those old pants of mine. But she was starting to make waves, and we were looking to stay low profile, so …”

“Huh,” Alison said after A.J. passed on that information. “There were rumors about Kid Gallagher bestowing affection upon another man in San Francisco. But that was before he went to Jubilation and—” She stopped herself. “Except everyone always assumed it happened
before
Jubilation, because Quinn said Gallagher died shortly after he arrived in town.”

“It was after,” Jamie said. “And it was Mel. Wearing pants. Although whoever looked at her and thought she was a man probably needed a new pair of eyeglasses.”

“Well, that’s certainly interesting,” Alison said. She paused. “What does Jamie know about Melody’s diaries?”

“He knows she wrote them,” A.J. answered. “But he didn’t know if she’d destroyed them or … what. He doesn’t know where they are.”

“Could he find them?” Alison asked. “The way he found Hugh?”

Good question. A.J. looked at Jamie, who shrugged. “I can certainly try,” the ghost said. “And I will—after we finish here.”

“I think we’re finished here,” Alison said. “I’ve got a production meeting in a half hour, so …”

A.J. started piling her dishes onto his own, so he could stack the two trays and carry them both at once. “I’ll take these back,” he said.

She stood up. “Thank you.”

“If you don’t mind, I have a quick question for you.” He glanced at her. “That thing you wrote, that Jamie and I read aloud. About wanting Quinn to rescue you …?”

She sighed as she slowly sat back down. “Pathetic, huh?” she said. “When I was around twelve, though, I stopped waiting to get rescued. I started pretending that I was Quinn. Because
even though he was big and strong, bad things still happened to him. And all he could do was his best, you know? Even when he didn’t win, at least he tried. At least he fought back. And at least he had his code and his honor.” She rolled her eyes. “Or so I thought.”

“There are a lot of legends,” A.J. pointed out. “A lot of stories that were made up to provide inspiration. And you were right. Bad stuff can happen, regardless of who you are. If Quinn’s self-legend helped you when you were a kid, then that’s a good thing. Then his lies did good. Although I honestly believe that the real story—what really happened—would have helped you more. Because same as you, Melody didn’t wait to be rescued. True, she needed help, but she found that help in Jamie, and together they rescued her from Silas Quinn.”

Alison nodded, and they sat for a moment in silence.

She cleared her throat as she looked up to find him watching her. “It was nothing really awful,” she told him. “That happened to me. I know you’re probably curious. Your restraint is amazing, because if I were you, I’d have to ask. It was just … my mother was … hard to live with. A lot of drama.”

“Drama,” he repeated.

Alison shook her head. “Mostly noise. The worst thing that happened to me, physically, was when she was so drunk that she didn’t stop when she pulled the car into the garage and she went through the wall into the playroom and part of the wall fell on me. I had to go in for X-rays—it was just a concussion. But it sucked because my grandmother asked me to lie and say that
she
was driving so my mother wouldn’t get arrested.”

“Your mother was an alcoholic,” A.J. said. It wasn’t a question, but she nodded. Yes. And his heart sank.

He didn’t look over at Jamie, but he heard the ghost sigh and mutter, “Shit.”

“I’m an alcoholic,” A.J. said. “I figure I should go for full disclosure here.”

“You …?” she said. And yes, God, the expression on her face was one of total incredulity. She actually managed to
laugh, but tears also sprang into her eyes. Tears that she grimly fought back.

“Oh, perfect,” she said. “I mean, yes, I knew you didn’t drink, but I thought …”

“I’m ten years sober,” he told her.

“Which means absolutely nothing,” she scoffed, but then corrected herself. “I’m sorry. It does mean quite a lot, of course. Congratulations. I actually do know how hard it must’ve been—must still be. But I also know—first hand—that it just doesn’t mean as much as most people think. My mother was eight years sober, until she wasn’t anymore. I was seven, and that was it. Every now and then she did a month, month and a half, but … Three months once. Three months, seventeen days. And then she went right back down the toilet. On my tenth birthday.”

“Jesus,” A.J. said. “And you were a kid—you couldn’t walk away.”

“Nope.”

And there they sat in silence until he cleared his throat. “You’re not a kid anymore. You could, um, walk away from me.”

“I already have,” she said, and then winced. “I’m sorry, that came out sounding harsh. But I see no point in … pretending otherwise. Really, A.J. If things hadn’t already gone past the point of no return for us, that news would’ve just done it.”

“She’s lying,” Jamie said from across the room.

Maybe, but A.J. didn’t think so.

“I’m sorry that you feel that way,” he said quietly. “But it’s probably for the best. Because you’re right. I can’t give guarantees. I’m sober today. Right now. I don’t think too much about tomorrow, because that doesn’t serve me. So I don’t try to plan and say, here’s where I’ll be in a month or a year. All I can tell you is that I’m not drinking now. And I’m not drinking now. Or now. And I’m doing okay, so when we get to the
now
that’s hanging out there, a year in the future, it’s highly likely that I won’t be drinking then either. But there
are
no guarantees. And Jamie’s not the only ghost haunting me.”

Hor al-Hammar. She didn’t say it, but A.J. knew she was thinking it.

He picked up their trays.

This time she was the one who stopped him. “Before you go,” she said. “Could you ask … Jamie. To check on Hugh.”

Jamie didn’t wait for him to say it, he just popped out. And then popped back in. “He’s continuing to improve,” he reported, “but he’s still not conscious.”

“Thank you,” Alison said, after A.J. relayed that information.

A.J. nodded and went out the door.