The Big Ugly (17 page)

The bartender was a young guy with green-rimmed glasses, spiked hair and some freaky sideburns that jutted out past his jaw. He came to our booth and asked, "Can I get you another, sir?"

Frank finished his drink and nodded.

The kid started to turn back to the bar. I said, "Hey, sonny." He turned around, and I belted the drink down. "Another one for me, too. Put some vodka in it this time."

"Yes, ma'am," he said and hurried off.

Frank smiled. "I know you don't want to hear it, Ellie, but I did care. And I still do. I always will."

"Then why—"

"Want the honest answer? Because I did the math. I calculated the odds of the situation, and I knew that helping you got me nothing. It got you nothing, too, but I won't sit here and pretend like it wasn't a selfish calculation. It was. I had no new information to offer your defense. I didn't feel like my presence could help you. And I thought it could only hurt me."

"You're a real profile in courage."

The bartender came back and gave us our drinks. I took a slug. Mine was two-thirds vodka. Good boy.

Frank said, "I am sorry, Ellie."

I leaned back. "So you saw me get out of my car and you came outside and waited."

"Yes."

"Waited a little while. I was at city hall for a while."

"Yeah."

"What did you think would happen when I came back?"

"I didn't know."

"You didn't know."

"I didn't know, but I knew I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to tell you I was sorry, tell you that I missed you."

I shook my head. "Why are you saying that?"

"Saying what?"

"That you miss me. Jesus Christ, you're a piece of work."

"Yeah. I guess I am."

"You thought you'd buy me a couple of drinks and sweet talk me and then what?"

"I don't know, Ellie. I don't have a plan."

"Mm. Not having a plan is your plan, Frank."

I drank.

He drank.

Some people came in. An older man with a younger man. They both looked like college professors. They sat at a table and discussed the spirits menu. A man in a blue suit and a woman in a coffee-colored cocktail dress came in and took a seat at the bar. The woman glanced at us and turned away.

I took another slug of my drink. "I need to get the fuck out of here. I feel like a goddamn sideshow act in here right now."

He nodded. "If that's what you want."

While he walked to the bar and cashed out, I finished my drink.

We walked outside and the day hadn't gone anywhere. I was drunk and it was only about three in the afternoon.

"You sure you can drive?" he asked.

"You going to bust me for DUI?"

"Christ, I'm just asking, Ellie. I don't want you to go and wrap yourself around a lamppost. Or hit someone. Or, frankly, get pulled over and busted for a DUI, yeah."

"That's very chivalrous of you."

He walked me back to my car.

He ran a hand through his hair and said, "I already know what the answer to this is going to be, but can I call you sometime?"

I walked around to the driver's door and dug out my keys. Back to where I started.

"I think that's a horrible idea, don't you?"

"No. If I did, I wouldn't have asked."

I jiggled my keys. I wished I wasn't so buzzed. My thoughts felt a little scrambled. There were too many emotions vying for control of me right then. I was lonely. I was scared.

Mostly, though, I was wary of him.

"I think it's a bad idea."

"That's fair," he said. He came around the car, and he hugged me. He did it as naturally as if we were the chummiest of buddies. "Take care of yourself, Ellie."

He let go and walked around the car and started walking to the intersection. I called after him, "Did you think I'd let you call me?"

He turned around and smiled. "I thought there was a chance."

"Why?"

He gestured at the police station across the street. "You could have parked anywhere downtown and you parked in front of where I work. You telling me that that was just a coincidence?"

I unlocked my door. "Maybe."

"Well," he said. "There's a whole world of possibility in a maybe."

I was rattled. I can't act like I wasn't.

I watched him walk away, and then I climbed into my car and stared at the steering wheel a moment. I needed to find someplace to lay down.

I drove across the bridge into North Osotouy City and headed for the rundown neighborhood of Godsey Street. It was seedy as all hell, but no one would think to look for me there.

After a few moments of driving around, I saw my resting place.

Exquisite Rooms and Suites was a fancily named shithole that probably hadn't been renovated since 1975. White-gone-grime brick, with a corded off pool empty of everything but rotting leaves, it festered between a dilapidated Pentecostal church and a little ice-packing business.

I parked in front of the manager's office and went inside. A lumpy teenage girl in a tight white tank top stood behind the counter texting on her phone.

She didn't acknowledge me, despite the obvious lack of anything else important to occupy her attention.

I waited. The only things moving in the office were her thumbs.

Finally, she looked up from her phone. Except for a zit the size of a scoop of ice cream on her chin, her face was bland and blank.

"Ready?" I said.

"May I help you?"

"I was beginning to wonder."

"Huh?"

"How much are rooms?"

"Thirty-five a night."

"How much for a suite?"

"What?"

"The sign says you have exquisite suites."

"We only got rooms."

"I'll take one."

She sighed and pulled out a piece of paper for me to sign. There was no computer in the place.

"I'm assuming," I said, "for thirty-five a night that I don't need a credit card."

She shook her head as she filled out the date and rate and room number on the sheet. Then she passed the sheet over to me and said, "Name there. Signature there. And a phone number there."

I filled it out and gave her the cash.

She tore off the yellow copy and handed it to me with a key marked 6 in red ink. Then she picked up her phone and started texting again.

"Pleasure doing business with you," I said.

The room's green carpeting looked like the rug at a graveside service. The ancient television set had the same brown paneling as the walls, while the stench of mold and old cigarettes battled for dominance.

"Exquisite," I said.

Some weak light sliced in through the edge of the curtain and gave the room a gray hue. I lay down on the bed. It was as soft as a slab, but I lay there and stared at stains on the ceiling.

I listened to my own breathing and felt the vodka numbness of my fingers and toes. I heard my shoes hit the floor before I thought about sliding them off.

Then I was asleep.

Hours later, I woke up in darkness needing to pee. When I sat up, my whole midsection hurt. My cell phone lay next to me, and I used it for a little illumination until I could get to the bathroom and switch on the light.

Pea green toilet, tub, and counter. One half roll of toilet paper. I peed and checked myself out in the mirror.

Compared to death, I looked okay. Some of the swelling in my nose had gone down.

As I poked gently at my bruises, my phone buzzed. I picked it up. Jack.

"Hey," I said.

"Where you at?"

I told her.

"Why you there? You gonna turn some tricks?"

"What do you mean?"

"That's the crack hotel."

"Really?"

"Go outside and see if you can't make some money sucking dick."

"I'll pass."

"I'm coming over."

I laughed. "You need to make some money?"

"No, but I want to hear how things went today. Not on the phone though."

After I hung up I climbed in the shower to wash off the dirt and sadness. The pressure was excellent and the water stayed warm the entire time I was in there. Score one for Exquisite Rooms and Suites. A decent shower absolved a lot of sins.

I dug through my bag. I was down to my last clean pair of clothes—some jeans, a white tank top, and a black and cream checkered flannel shirt.

About the time I was tying the laces on my sneakers, Jack knocked on the door. I checked to make sure it was her, then I let her inside.

She wore gray pants and a vest over a white shirt with a popped collar. Her gray cap beret sat at a jaunty angle.

"Evenin'," she said.

"Evenin'."

"You got any AC?"

"'Scuse me?"

She gestured around us. "This room is hot as shit."

"I don't think AC is part of the value here."

She nodded. "Mind if I smoke?"

"Don't be funny."

She pulled a pack of Camel Blues from her pocket and shook one out. I don't usually smoke, but I lifted my chin at her. "You got one of those to spare?"

She handed me one and lit them both.

I inhaled some smoke. Stupid habit, if you think about it. I don't mean the health risk, either. I mean the act itself. It's just breathing in and breathing out, plus poison. Stupid. I enjoyed it, though.

"First butt in a while?" she asked sitting down on the bed and leaning against the wall.

"Yeah."

"When was the last one?"

"A few months ago. One of the broads was leaving and she wanted me to have one with her. Going away party."

"Listen at you.
Broads
. You old school, Bennett."

"I guess. I never liked
bitch
. And
girl
sounds like you're talking about a kid.
Women
or
female
sounds kinda clinical. So, yeah, broads."

"Well, I always called my girls, my girls. My crew."

We sat there smoking a while, flicking ashes in a cup from the bathroom.

I asked, "This joint really a place for prostitutes?"

"Whore Central."

"Well, I know how to pick 'em."

She shrugged. "You got that gat I give you, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well then, you'll be fine. Just don't open the door and let nobody in."

"I'm not afraid of random violence at this point. I got enough deliberate violence to keep me busy."

"What Junius say?"

"He said he had to check with Lou Don. Said it'd have to wait until Vinton was in the ground."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Sounds weird."

"Why?"

"'Cause Junius Kluge a fuckin' gangsta. Don't normally wait to get feedback from the governor."

"What can I say? I killed Lou Don's brother. I expect he'll have something he wants to say about that."

"Makes sense, I guess."

"Yeah."

"Think they'll come across with some money to keep you quiet?"

"Either that or they'll finish what Vin started."

"You got a feeling about which way they'll go?"

I mashed out the cigarette. "Colfax wants to go to Washington. I suspect he'll do whatever it takes to get him there. Killing is messy. Vin's death is already a mess. Alexis is out there bopping around somewhere. And here I am. I just gotta hope he'll figure that I'm a problem he can fix with money. I mean, after all, I am. I am a problem he can fix with money. I just hope he and Kluge see it that way."

"After you talked to Kluge, you come here?"

I sighed and I could only give her a bitter smile. "Well, I had some drinks first. You know who I ran into after I left Kluge?"

"No."

"Frank Morley."

"As in Kitty Morley. That Morley?"

"Yeah."

"The fuck he want?"

I shook my head. "To … talk. And, I don't know, to …"

She raised an eyebrow. "He trying to get you back?"

"I don't know if he wants me back, but he can't help but flirt. You know how some people, that's how they communicate? That's him. Morley just flirts."

"Motherfucker."

"Yeah."

"You going to hit that?"

"No. Jesus. The last thing I need in my life is that man."

She crushed out her cigarette and dropped it in the cup. "You thinkin' about it though, I can tell. Only natural. We all been there. I had this best friend, Nikki, all through high school, but I never met her brother because he lived with his daddy in another town. Then, at graduation, I finally met him. Kordell Estime. Finest man you ever saw. Tall, broad shouldered, handsome as a prince. Sweet, though. You know? Goddamn, I loved that man.

"But he had problems. Shit in his childhood. When his parents first got divorced, he lived with his momma for a while, and one of her boyfriends messed with him. Sex stuff. Kordell didn't never want to talk about it. But it plagued him. Like one of those plagues in the Bible. Plagued him."

She stared into some space between us, blank except for the past.

"He killed himself. My Kordell. Shot himself one night. Didn't leave a note. Didn't say a word to me. He had to know it would ruin my life. Had to know I'd blame myself and hate myself for it. But he did it anyway. All by himself, in his room. Not drunk, not high. Just decided to kill himself and take half of me with him.

"And the thing is, knowing what I know, knowing that he'd do it again, if I could have him back, I'd let him have the other half of me."

After she left, I sat there alone. After a while a car pulled into the lot outside. I peered through the grimy shade. A dumpy guy in a T-shirt and jeans got out of a Camry. He went to the door of another room and knocked. A middle-aged woman in a long T-shirt and cutoff jeans opened the door. He showed her some drug shit in a plastic bag, and she let him inside.

I went back to my bed. I sat there. I stared at the wall.

Then I watched my hand as it picked up my phone.

My fingers scrolled down the names in my contacts.

FRANK.

I had never removed his number from my phone. It had been there the whole time I was in prison.

I stared at it.

I pushed CALL.