The Revelations of Preston Black (Murder Ballads and Whiskey Book 3) (34 page)

“I guess that’s what I’m saying. In
the past you’ve left me hanging.”

“The ritual binds me,” she huffed. “If
you do as I will tell you, then I will be compelled. I have no choice.”

“Well,” I said, dragging it out so I
could think. “I’d rather have something as a sign of good faith. Like, I’d
rather you wanted to be there than were forced to be there.”

“Good faith? Like what, Preston? A
wish? Good luck?” She rolled her eyes at my silliness. “My real name?”

My breath caught in my throat.

“Sure,” I said, stopping her, then
scolding myself for being too eager. My mouth got dry while I waited for her to
reply.

She nodded, a pause for drama, maybe.

“Fine.” She lit another cigarette. The
orange glow cast harsh shadows upon her face, and all of a sudden, she didn’t
look like somebody I knew. “After you have done exactly as I’ve told you, I
will give you what you want.”

When
she dropped me off back at the juke joint, the streets were clear. The only
cars parked out front were Jamie’s and Ben’s. The only sign that something
apoctalyptic had taken place here was the absence of leaves on the trees. I
picked up the pint glass I’d dropped in the mud. I didn’t know the time, or how
long I’d been gone. I tried to tell myself only a few hours had passed, but for
all I knew, it could’ve been a few days. There still weren’t any stars in the
sky.

The front door clicked open.

I waited.

Katy stepped onto porch. She didn’t
say anything.

I said, “Where’d everybody go?”

“The people from the church followed
you out of here like you said they would. They up and left right after you
did.”

“Told you I’d fix everything.” A
little bit of pride welled up in me. “How’s Chloey?”

“Good. The cuts were mostly superficial,
but she’s at the hospital for observation. Got a few stitches. Seven above her
collarbone and seven in her hand. The drugs knocked her out.” She came down the
steps and met me on the sidewalk. “What did you have to do?”

“We talked a lot. Nothing more. She
acted like she really didn’t care one way or the other about Pauly.”

“Doesn’t sound like her to just let it
go.” She tucked her hands into her back pockets.

“But she did. Sunday morning I head
back to Mississippi to make it all official.”

“How do you do that?” She looked at me
skeptically.

“By going back down to those old
crossroads one last time.”

CHAPTER Nine

Brick
walls, bathroom stalls, long dark halls,

Hold
your tongue until you get out.

Elbows
locked, pushing forward—

A
thousand to one.

Stand
your ground and we’ll knock you over.

A
thousand to one and I’ll carry your gun.

“My Own
Army” Music and Lyrics by Preston Black

I
woke up knowing that a new life had descended upon Katy and me. A life where I
could be free of Dani’s entanglements. A life that represented the clean break
we never had. The freedom we always wanted. On Sunday night, when we packed up
and headed back to Morgantown, West Virginia, all this would be behind us
forever.

I did this because I loved Katy, and
knew she deserved better than what I’d given her so far, even though I’d given
her everything I could. It took losing her, and being scared, to make me
realize that I had a never-ending pool of love and strength for her. It took
getting her back, and taking care of things with Danicka to make me see that I
lived and breathed for her.

So this morning, when she said she
needed time to think, it stung. But I hoped it was just girl talk for “I’m
still mad” and figured I’d let it go. And when she said she didn’t want to ride
to Atlanta with me, and that we needed to take a little breather after the
show, I wracked my brain trying to figure out what it meant. When I asked
Pauly, he said, “It means she needs some time, bro.”

Simoneaux made saying goodbye easy—he
assured me he’d see me again one day. He left us with no warnings and no
sentiment, whatsoever, and even refused my offer of coming back after the show
to help him clean-up. And when Jamie mentioned money Simoneaux got mad. He
said, “Friends don’t ask for something like that.”

Pauly, Andre, Sabra and I said our
goodbyes over grits with cheddar cheese and biscuits with white gravy at a
diner near the interstate. After a quick handshake they went home, and me and
Pauly quietly rolled south out of the little Appalachians toward the wide
Georgia flats all by ourselves. It took two hours to get to the interstate, and
after that life returned to a pace I was used to. Homes and strip malls peeked
through gaps in the trees as rolling hills gave way to suburbia. The excitement
I felt embarrassed me, and to quench it, I reminded myself that she wasn’t here
to share it with me.

Atlanta was big. The sun shone
brightly on the mountain of concrete and glass that rose from the Piedmont like
it had just landed on earth a few nights ago. Cars jockeyed for space on the
wide parkway, reminding me that no matter where you went, somebody was always
out to get you. Pauly drove aggressively, swearing when he got cut off, then
racing ahead to retaliate. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t care what he did, as
long as it made him feel better.

Pauly knew Atlanta, so there were no
wrong turns, no need to stop for directions, and we arrived at the theater
rather easily. Our arrival felt a little sad after everything that happened
this week. Nobody came to greet us. The label didn’t send flowers. I didn’t
dwell on it though.

The venue blew my mind. An old
vaudeville theater that had been returned to all its glory by a community
restoration effort. A heavy red curtain muffled all but the loudest sounds from
beyond the stage. I couldn’t even hear cars on the street outside. Gold ribbons
and angels in the highest corners reminded me a little of what I’d seen on the
church in Prague. A low balcony hung over the rows of red seats. I figured it’d
be empty tonight except for the pot smokers. An orchestra pit sat below the
stage between a small pair of private boxes. Rachael and Jamie and Chloey would
be comfortable in one of those boxes if they came.

A custodian helped us haul our gear
into the back, showed us the green room, and hung out, BS-ing with us while we
set up. The return to normalcy felt strange. Like he was upset about politics
and football and me and Pauly were just happy to be here, mostly unharmed. When
we were done, he introduced us to the manager and showed us around. After that
we did a quick soundcheck, then left to find the hotel and check in.

Then we waited.

And it was a very lonely, very quiet,
wait.

Bo
Diddley said every generation’s got its own little bag of tricks. Nobody from
my generation bothered to tell me what our trick was. Maybe digital was the
only thing up our sleeve, even if it made having a hard copy of anything
meaningless. I thought about how Pauly’s mom had pictures on the walls, photos
of weddings and school pictures. She may not have looked at a photo every time
she walked past, but the people in the images were always there with her.
Looking over her shoulder. Watching TV with her.

Looking at Katy’s picture on the
little screen of my phone wasn’t doing it for me.

Pauly helped me get through it the
best way he knew how. He went down to The Varsity after we got back to the
theater and bought chili slaw dogs and onion rings and fries while I warmed up.
We set our picnic up on the stage, listening to the Allmans while we ate. He got
too much food for us to eat ourselves, but Pauly always used to buy for three
people so I didn’t say anything. We didn’t make small talk, or discuss what
happened last night, although Pauly did say that he felt as though the weight
had been lifted off his shoulders.

I meant to tell him about Prague and
all that, and was on the verge of figuring out how to tell him he could stop
worrying about Danicka, when a security guard came into the theater to tell us
there were a few folks out front who wanted to talk to us. They claimed they
knew me.

Pauly shrugged, so I followed the
security guard out. As soon as I stepped into the lobby I saw Katy’s cousin
Henry and his girlfriend Alex. He smiled real big when I stepped forward to hug
him. He looked around like he expected to see Katy pop through the door behind
me.

After kissing Alex’s cheek, I told
them the girls were running a little late because I didn’t know what else to
say. I asked where they were staying, asked what he’d been up to, and all that
other chitchat. While he told me about the drive down from West Virginia and
the stuff they did all morning I watched a group of protesters on the other
side of the street.

My heart fell.

To cover my emotions, I pointed to the
door behind me and said, “Henry, we got all kinds of food down there. Pauly
will hook you up. I’ll be right in.”

As soon as the door closed behind
them, I walked over to the security guard. “You think they’ll be a problem?”

He put his phone into his pocket and
answered me with a big old dose of Southern honesty. “Not my problem. I’m off
at seven. Y’all have fun though.”

“Thanks, man,” I said before I went
back inside.

As I walked down that long aisle, I
ran through all kinds of scenarios in my head. The first involved me asking
Henry to play whether or not Katy showed. Figured that was the best way to
approach it. I knew he could handle our songs if I made crib notes for him, and
made a list of simple I-IV-V tunes he could blast right through. That meant no
duets and no two-part harmonies, but it would be easy enough to substitute
cover songs. The best way to play it with the crowd would be to let them know
we were going to stay on stage until the sun came up tomorrow morning, or until
the venue kicked us out, whichever came first—an Allman Brothers at the
Fillmore type of thing. And I’d have to talk Pauly into doing a whole set at
least. Maybe even go into Pipeline stuff like the old days. Weezer. Guns N’
Roses. Foo Fighters. The Clash. Jane’s Addiction. Ramones. Social Distortion.

A set of covers wouldn’t be the same
as a show with Katy, which they’d paid to see, but they’d have to understand
after everything that went on this week. I’d tell them that she felt just fine,
that she was a little worn out after the ordeal, and that she appreciated all the
Tweets and emails.

Hope y’all understand
.

I felt like shit for even thinking it,
and reminded myself that we probably could’ve gotten away with cancelling the
show altogether.

So I took a deep breath and explained
the situation to Henry as he tore into a hot dog and asked if he’d be
interested. He looked nervous as hell and I thought for sure he’d decline, but
Alex gave him a look that changed his mind.

As soon as he agreed I grabbed Katy’s
backup violin and my new Martin, and led him down to the green room to
practice. I explained how I thought the format would go, and I did my best to
tell him the type of things we’d play as I wrote out a set list. Henry told me
which of our songs he knew best and where he’d be able to improvise or just
play around me. He nodded a lot, and if he was nervous he didn’t act like it.
We spent a good hour or so running through stuff together and he eventually
loosened up. I told him to practice while I left to try to convince Pauly to
play. As I got to the top of the stairs I heard voices on the other side of the
curtain. My heart raced, and I suddenly felt very scared and very sad. The
other side of the curtain felt like the other side of the planet after
everything that happened this week—I couldn’t trust what was over there
anymore. Pauly knelt in front of my cabinet, taping cables to the floor. He
didn’t see me.

“Hey, man,” I said. “You feel like
playing a full set tonight?”

He stood and brushed off his pants.
“Ain’t played a full set of anything in a year.”

“I’m going to need you.”

“Man, what are you talking about?” He
put his arm around my neck. “She’ll be here, okay? How long’s it going to take
for you to realize that when a girl says she needs space, she needs space. You
know her better than that.”

“Yeah…” I shook my head because he was
right. “Was she mad when I left with Dani?”

“Truthfully, the whole thing with
Chloey kept most of us busy. She never said anything to me about it.” Pauly
checked his shirt pocket for cigarettes. “How do you think she felt when she
saw you get into that car?”

“Well, Katy knew I acted in the best
interest of the group, and that I love her more than anything. So, me getting
into the car with Danicka—who may or may not be the devil or whatever—is just
like walking down to Dairy Mart for pepperoni rolls. That’s how I think she
felt.” I tried to smile.

“Well you keep telling yourself that,
big brother. And I’ll keep pretending you’re right.” He gave me his best
“authority figure” look when he said it. “By the way, there’s a pair of kids
out there who said to tell you they came to see you. Ray and Vance from Lula?”

“No shit.” I walked over to the edge
of the curtain and pulled it back. The boys stood right in front of a speaker
cabinet talking to a pair of disinterested college girls. Only the first four
or five rows were full, but people were streaming in steadily. I didn’t want to
count heads, but couldn’t stomach playing to another half-empty house.

“Look at you guys,” I said, kneeling
down on the edge of the stage. “It’s a long drive, ain’t it?”

“About seven hours,” Ray said, shaking
my hand. I could smell weed on him.

“We partied the whole way out, so it
didn’t seem that long.” Vance spit into a Mountain Dew bottle he carried inside
his coat pocket. “We left yesterday.”

“Well, last night. Then we hooked up
with these guys in Birmingham.” Ray pointed to a bunch of dudes in flannel
shirts. “They brought those girls with them.”

“Yeah,” Vance added, “When we told
them how we drove you out to them crossroads to talk to the devil, they got
real interested.”

“You told people that? Shit, Vance.
Don’t do that. Like I need people thinking I’m insane.”

“It’s all good. They all got it in
their heads that this is going to be a big deal tonight.”

“Because of what you told them?”

“I don’t know about all that. But
being on the news all week helped, I’m sure.”

“You saw that, huh?” I stood and tried
to see what it looked like in the lobby. “Maybe I’ll catch you after the show.
Grab pizza or whatever. Just don’t go blabbing to everybody, okay?”

“Word spreads, man,” Ray said,
smiling. “One way or another people find out.”

“Ain’t nothing private no more. You
should know better.” Vance passed his Copenhagen to Ray.

“You’d think,” I said with a wave,
then left.

When I ducked back behind the curtain,
Pauly said, “Sounds like a good Friday night kind of crowd.”

I shook out my hands. “Well, we’ll see
what happens once I plug in.”

“Preston.”

I turned around to see what he had to
say.

“Have a little faith.”

“Thanks, baybruh. I will.” Saying it
didn’t help my nerves. I tried curling my toes as a way to calm myself.

Except for Henry sawing on Katy’s
little fiddle, everything was mostly quiet backstage when I ducked into the
bathroom. I pushed the drain stopper down and ran the cold water to shove the
ambient noise away. After so much music, I wanted quiet. When the sink had
filled, I held my breath and lowered my face into the water. I could still hear
Henry getting ready, doing me a solid, but the sound didn’t comfort me. His
playing had a harsher, more traditional edge to it than Katy’s. Sounded more
like Jamie. When the music finally came to a halt I figured I needed to go give
him a pep talk.