Promise Me (8 page)

I couldn’t just sit and do nothing so I helped clean up around the bar as the afternoon blazed away outside.  After a few hours Maddox returned, looking as if he’d just bathed in a tub of perspiration. 

“Fucking dry heat
my ass,” he panted and took a long swallow of beer.  He nodded at me. “Okay, so shitter’s up and running.  Shower is something of a slow trickle but should work well enough for the time being.” 

“I really appreciate it,” I said sincerely. 

He took a step closer, a strange smile on his face.  “How much do you appreciate it, Promise?” he asked seductively.  “You’re pretty cute, you know.”

I took an unsteady step backwards, alarm rising in my chest. 

“Mad,” Casper warned in a threatening tone.  “No.”

Maddox rolled his eyes and laughed.  “Come on, I wasn’t fucking serious.”

Casper and Rachel both glared at him. 

“You better go fish
elsewhere,” Rachel said in a tense voice. 

“Fine,” he said with mock grumpiness, winking at me before departing.

Rachel was looking at me.  “Don’t worry about him.” 

“I’m sure he didn’t mean anything,” I grumbled, but the doubtful look on Rachel’s face said she thought otherwise. 

Night was approaching and Riverbotton was evidently the happening spot in Quartzsite.  I started to get a little uncomfortable when customers began arriving en masse.  A handful of tough-looking men barged through the door.  The sleeveless denim jackets they wore were emblazoned with the words ‘Mojave Marauders’ underneath the fierce visage of a skull.  When one of them, a hefty bearded man, looked me up and down, openly leering, I began clenching my fists, wanting to escape the knowledge of the dirty things in his head.  Rachel noticed and led me away, back to the lonely comfort of the trailer I was going to be living in. 

We spent some more time cleaning up and presently Casper arrived with the air mattress, which he promptly pumped full of air.  Rachel covered it with crisp sheets and gave me the same shorts and t-shirt I’d worn the night before.  It still seemed surreal that I was here, that this would be the place I was to live. 

Casper took off after a few minutes, but first shared a passionate kiss with Rachel.  She let him back her against the wall and they breathed heavily against one another for a full minute.  I guiltily watched them out of the corner of my eye and to my surprise found myself curious about it was like to be in a man’s arm and feel truly wanted, secure.  Then I bit back the feeling of self-pity and fluffed the bed pillows. 

Rachel lingered by my side. “You sure you’ll be okay here alone tonight?” 

I looked out the window at the dark sky.  The music and laughter carried from the bar but I found it comforting, that life was proceeding all around me.  I was a bit sore, both from my injuries and from the exertion of cleaning out the trailer, but I felt wearily satisfied. 

“Yes,” I said firmly.  “I’ll be fine tonight, Rachel.” 

She twirled a length of dark hair around her finger and seemed lost in thought. 

“Promise?” she finally asked.  “Did they ever talk about me?”

“Of course.  The jilting of Emory Thayne will be gossip until the end of time, no matter how forbidden your name is.” 

She smiled vaguely.  “No, but I mean did they ever talk about
me
?”  Rachel seemed very young and vulnerable all of a sudden.  I knew what she was asking.  She wanted to know if her mother and her siblings and everyone she’d loved as child remembered her.  Remembered her and spoke of her with affection and longing. 

It was on the tip of my tongue to lie to her but I hesitated too long. 

“That’s what I thought,” she said wryly, her hand on the door.  “Love you, girl,” she said quietly before stepping out into the night.  

I had some difficulty getting comfortable on the air mattress but eventually my eyes closed and the solitude soothed me to sleep.
I hadn’t dozed off long when I jackknifed upright, crying out at the pain the sudden movement cause me.  Somewhere in my subconscious Winston’s cruel face had surfaced and I had lashed out, every fiber within me wanting to destroy him. 

As I tried to calm my breathing and pull the sweaty shirt away from my skin, Callie’s words haunted me.

If you do not get your period….

All day long I’d been trying to banish the thought from my mind.  But it was impossible for me to begin to move forward until I knew.  Pregnancy tests were remarkably accurate these days, detecting hormone levels at an absurdly early time.  In six days if my period hadn’t arrived, then I would need to take one.  I didn’t want to think about what might lie beyond that. 

My heart was pounding too hard to try sleep again at the moment and I figured a few minutes of fresh air might do me some good. 

I pulled on Rachel’s sandals and stepped carefully down the rickety steps of the trailer.

“You lookin’ to get shitfaced?”  The voice was good natured and familiar. 

There was no moonlight and my eyes struggled to adjust in the dark.  The limp radiance from the Riverbottom didn’t extend
this far away.

I heard the crunch of footsteps and realized someone was walking toward me. 

“Something the matter, Promise?”  It was Grayson. 

“Hey, ask her if she has any more cookies.”  I recognized Brandon’s voice as the first one who had spoken. 

The two of them had been lounging in front of Grayson’s trailer on the spools, drinking beer and leisurely discussing heaven only knew what.   

“I don’t have any more cookies right now.  Sorry,” I called back to Brandon. 

“Well, come on over anyway.”  Grayson turned and headed back, urging me to follow.

I almost tripped over Brandon’s large body. 

“Sorry,” I muttered.   He belched in response. 

A citronella candle burned nearby and that was the only light around. 

“Sit down,” Grayson pressed. 

“No,” I shook my head.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No.” 

“Fuckin’ A,” Brandon suddenly said.  He motioned to the Riverbottom with his lit cigarette.  “Heinous Bitch Alert.”

I heard Grayson’s hiss of disgust.  “The fuck is she doing back here?” 

I looked over to where the men were staring and saw a young brunette climbing on the back on the back of a motorcycle with a shadowy man. 

“Shit,” whispered Brandon.

Grayson let out a chuckle.  “Well, I guess that means she’s Angelo’s fucking problem now.  He has no idea what kind of ticket he just bought.”

Brandon laughed.  “Look who’s talking, friend.  Took you a while to catch on.” 

Grayson stretched.  “Guilty of being a slow learner.  But I never fail a test more than once.”  Then he seemed to remember that I was standing there silently and with no idea what the conversation was about.  “So where did you think you were going?”

“Nowhere,” I said, crossing my arms.  “I just couldn’t sleep.” 

“Hey,” Brandon stood, yawning. “I’m gonna go see what the ass looks like over there tonight.”  He slapped Grayson on the shoulder and staggered away without saying anything else to me. 

Grayson sank heavily back onto the spool and returned to his beer.  “Nightmares?” he finally asked. 

“Yes,” I said softly.  “Sleeping and waking.”  I was shocked to hear the words which came out of my mouth next. “I wish he was dead.” 

Grayson didn’t seem surprised.  “Well, Promise, someday he will be.  Look I don’t know what it’s like to be you, but I damn well know what it is to carry the rage around in your gut until you feel like you’re being choked.”  He paused.  “They tell you much about me?”

“That you were in prison, that you saved Casper’s life, and that you didn’t do whatever it is you were sentenced for.” 

“Yeah, all true.”  He leaned back and crossed one leg over the other.  “Someday I’ll tell you about it.” 

“But not tonight?”

“No, not tonight.” 

I looked up at the stars, a brilliant collection of designs.  It seemed impossible that they were real places, an unreachable distance away.  I didn’t understand why I could speak more feely to Grayson that to anyone else.  But the reason didn’t matter; it was what I needed right now.    “You told me today not to let it eat me alive.  So what do you do?  To cope, I mean.” 

“I shoot.” 

“You what?”

I heard him open up another can of beer.  “When the train gets too loud inside my head and I’m feeling like it’s gonna block ever
ything else out I grab a rifle and head deep in the desert.”  I could feel his eyes on me.  “I’ll teach you. You know, when you feel better.” 

“I think I would like that.” 

“And that way if he ever pops up again you can blow his balls off.”

I smiled.  At his words and at the rough cadence of his accent, how ‘balls’ sounded like ‘bawls’. 

“Hey, I can’t fucking see you in the dark; are you smiling?” 

I laughed.  “Yeah.”

“Well, good.” 

I wanted to hear more about him.  “So you’re not from here.” 

“Nope.  New York.” 

“So how did you wind up out here?” 

He didn’t say anything for a minute.  Finally he stood and picked up the spool he was sitting on.  “We’ll save that story for another time too.  For now, let’s see what we can do to get you some rest.”  He started to walk toward my trailer carrying his chair.  “Come on.”

He dropped the spool in front of my door.  “Now, I’m gonna hang out here for a while.  You go inside and get some sleep and know that if an
yone comes near your door they’ll have me to deal with.  Oh, and another thing.  Always keep the door locked.  There’s freaky people around.  I’m not one of ‘em, but they exist.”

“Grayson,” I wiped a tear away.  I couldn’t even say this to Rachel.  “I don’t know what I’m going to do if I’m pregnant.”

“Damn,” he said softly.  I didn’t back away when he pulled me gently against his chest.  My head came to rest on his muscled shoulder as if it were used to being there.  He didn’t say meaningless things like how it was all going to be all right.  He just held me and let me cry until I was exhausted enough to try sleep again. 

“Good night, Promise,” he said, sitting down and staring out into the night. 

“Good night, Grayson.” 

I did fall asleep soon after
that but awoke once again with the pounding internal alarm which screamed that something terrible was about to happen.  I sat up on the mattress for a long time, trying to calm my breathing.  Somewhere nearby I heard the deep curses of men and then the high yips of coyotes.  I crept to the window, easing my finger around the paper shade.  He was still there, right where I had left him, staring stoically into the moonless desert night as he kept silent vigil against my demons. 

Things gradually began to get easier over the next few days.  I still had the specter of a terrible possibility looming over my head, but I tried to push it out my mind.  A large package containing my new clothes arrived and I started to feel more free the moment I put on a pair of denim shorts and a simple t-shirt.  Kira and Rachel labored every day with me on the trailer, adding homey touches to make it more comfortable.  

Grayson stopped by frequently to share lighthearted tidbits of information he thought might interest me.  There was a coyote den about a half mile into the brush beyond where his trailer sat.  The pups which had been born in the late spring were growing larger and sometimes he would sit quietly under a nearby mesquite tree and watch them caper.  He brought me a handful of pottery shards he had discovered in the wash beyond Riverbottom.  Together we spread the broken clay pieces on an old piece of plywood and tried to make sense of their shapes.  I held the ancient shards and tried to visualize what they had looked like whole, how they had been used by people, women most likely, who had long since been returned to the earth. 

Several times Grayson caught me watching him.  I couldn’t read the look in his eyes when he stared back.   I remembered how he’d asked me what I had thought of him and wondered if he was afraid I’d been too indoctrinated with bigotry to recover.  I wanted to tell him otherwise, that he might just be the best man I’d ever known.  But I was too shy to say the words so I told him instead about the precarious adventure of teaching Kira how to bake bread from scratch. 

He only asked me once about the horrors of the Faithful.  “Will they try to come after you?”

The thought had occurred to me.   I shrugged. “I don’t know how they would find me.  It’s not like I’m
going to email my father with my street address.”

Grayson seemed grim.  “There are ways if they are determined enough.”  I must have looked alarmed because he tried to smooth his words over.  “Don’t worry,” he said brushing a hand down my arm.  “I told you no one will hurt you anymore.” 

His touch made me feel strangely warm.  I smiled.  “Yes.  You promised.”   

He smiled back.  “Yeah.  I promise.  Promise.” 

One afternoon I helped Kira bake an old recipe I conjured from memory.  I’d been making it in my mother’s kitchen since I was small.  It was called ‘Sand Cake’ and used corn starch instead of flour. 

“Hey, can I use your laptop?” I asked suddenly. 

“Sure,” she shrugged, sitting on the counter and swinging her legs while reading a battered copy of
Catcher in the Rye
. 

I opened up the lid and Googled ‘Faithful Cooperative’.   It was the term I’d heard tossed around in Winston’s tense business meetings.  As I clicked through the results, most of the information seemed perfunctory.   Apparently it was a multi-faceted business venture created and run by the Faithful Last Disciples and Saints.  My jaw went slack with shock when I read that the combined net worth of the Freedom Cooperative was crudely speculated at approximately $140 million. 

Kira must have seem something in my face.  She hopped off the counter.  “What are you looking at?”

“I’m not sure,” I said.  I returned to the search results and clicked on a forum conversation, scanning the contents. I saw Josiah Bastian’s name.  And Winston’s name. 

Someone who posted under the name of ‘FormerlyFaithful’ wrote the following:

“The Faithful Cooperative:  What originally began as a small scale business cooperative designed to benefit the church of the Faithful Last Disciples and Saints has mushroomed into a multi-million dollar endeavor whose interests span a number of states.  It is currently unknown how many businesses are under the FC umbrella as these connections have been deliberately blurred due to certain public backlash.  Investors include a number of general construction contractors in Arizona and California and, to a lesser degree, Utah, Nevada and Colorado.  Ominously, much of the money funneling into these projects are public funds with state or even federal origins.  Several defense contractors in Arizona and California also have suspected ties to the FC. However, a grave effort to conceal these this link has made it difficult to connect the dots.  Due to the church’s widely known criminal practices of coercing women and girls to enter abusive polygamous relationships, any association with the FC would be highly detrimental if made public.”

Orion sidled in as Kira read over my shoulder.  He turned the laptop around without asking and those piercing blue eyes began immediately skimming the posts.  I looked up at Kira but she just shrugged and ran her hand over Orion’s huge, muscled shoulder as we waited for him to finish reading. 

When he was done he turned his powerful stare in my direction. “These are your people?”

“Yes.  Winston Allred, he’s my- he was the man I had to marry.” 

“Sounds like they’re into some shit.  The type that could take down a lot of deep pocketed sons of bitches who don’t fight fair.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.  Orion wasn’t really waiting for me to answer anyway.  He hit the Print button and motioned to Kira that she ought to grab the paper from the living room. 

He crossed his arms and kept his intimidating gaze on me.  “
This is a deep rabbit hole.  And it’s all lined with the money of important people. You keep that information handy, girl.  You might need to fucking remember it later.”