Authors: Edward Lazellari
He turned back to face her, then toward the bedroom, then back again to her, unsure of which direction he wanted. Should he just head out the front door or confront her until she saw some common sense. He had a rational argument worked out in his brain, but when he open his mouth, all that came out was, “A damned pinkie swear … really?”
Luanne stomped her new shoe on the carpet hard. “Don’t get snarky with me, Danny Hauer!” Her southern drawl had intensified. “I bought you new stuff, too.”
She jabbed a bag into his chest with a thwap.
“You might want to say ‘Thank you, Luanne, for buyin’ me nice stuff. Thank you, Luanne, for bein’ a friend.’” Her volume increased. “‘Thank you, Luanne, for sharin’ your sweet cherry pie with me for my first time in my pathetic, lonely, little life!’”
Daniel’s temper rose to match hers. She just didn’t get it. The girl never thought more than an hour ahead.
“There hasn’t been a cherry in your pie for years,” he threw back at her. He regretted the insult immediately.
“EEEEEEGH!” she screamed, and threw a shopping bag at his head. She picked up a shoebox and threw that, too, then anything that was close at hand. Nothing she hurled had any aerodynamic quality—Daniel easily sidestepped the items. She closed in on him until she could do him in with her own hands.
Luanne lunged, newly manicured claws out, shining brightly the color of fresh blood. Daniel grabbed her wrists to protect his face, and they weaved back and forth in some sort of primeval puppet dance. He had her arms over her shoulder and began pushing her back. She launched a knee at his crotch, but he instinctively turned his hip and blocked it with his leg. They ran out of room and he slammed her against the trailer wall, pinning her arms back. She was ferociously strong and wailed like an angry wombat. Her feral beauty aroused him, and again the familiar stirring in his loins betrayed his need for clarity at this time. Daniel’s eyes must have conveyed his admiration; when she looked into his eyes, something clicked, simultaneously aligning their minds. He leaned into her, his face barely an inch from hers, waiting to see if he read her true. She made to bite him and he pulled away quick, but he knew she would have had him if she was serious. He put his lips on hers, pressing passionately. She kissed back just as fiercely, tasting him. Any thoughts about open window blinds and unlocked doors melted away as they embraced. They slid to the shag carpet locked around each other and commenced their mating dance.
2
It was completely dark when Daniel awoke. He and Luanne lay on the carpet beside the couch, she curled up slightly on top of him with one naked leg wrapped around his and her arm on his chest. The living room was in shambles. Shopping bags and clothes strewn everywhere, seat cushions piled against each other—they had gone at it like animals in heat.
As rational thinking reasserted itself, Daniel realized he couldn’t stay. Whether it was a matter of minutes, hours, or days, this thing with Luanne was going to blow up—it was inevitable. Bev’s reaction to his having sex with her daughter may not be any less violent than Cody’s … she kept a loaded twelve-gauge shotgun in the living room closet.
A drizzle began outside, spattering the windows with cold streaks of dew.
Great,
thought Daniel.
Leave tonight and catch pneumonia.
The TV remote was on the coffee table beside him, so he clicked on the newscast with the volume off to spy the weather forecast. As the meteorologist spoke of cold fronts, rain, and possible snow, something streaming across the news feed banner at the bottom of the screen perked his attention. It had gone by quickly, and he thought it must have been a trick of the light. Bev ran her cable through a DVR that always recorded the channel it was on; he hit the rewind button on the remote and backed up a few seconds. It was not his imagination; he saw his name in the news feed:
$60,000 reward put up by mysterious benefactor for the capture of, or information leading to, father killer Daniel Hauer of Glen Burnie, Maryland
. The station was a local NBC affiliate, so you could be sure other stations were running it as well.
Colby was wrong. Interest in him wasn’t going to die on the vine. This money was going to supercharge the search for him. This news would hit an even bigger cycle the next day, maybe even go national. He should have followed his instincts and fled the country while the going was still good. Now every cop and yahoo up to his neck in bills will be gunning for him.
“Shit!” he whispered. Who the heck would put up sixty thousand for him? No one could be that angry Clyde was dead. His stepfather was a loser squared.
Daniel got dressed and finished packing in the dark. He’d already lingered too long. Luanne awoke when he came back into the living room. She sat up, resting her arm on a couch cushion.
“Why are the lights off?” she asked.
“I have to go,” Daniel said.
“What?” she said, coming awake. “Wait…” She stood up, her beautiful, naked body a study in shadows as the neighbor’s porch light across the street cast itself upon her through droplets on the windowpane.
“I have to go,” Daniel repeated.
“You can’t just leave … I mean—it’s cold and rainy outside.” Luanne sounded dejected, her expression a mix of sad, scared, and pissed off. Daniel couldn’t remember the last time someone wanted him to stay around as much as she wanted him to at this moment. He was flattered.
“I don’t have a choice,” he said. “On the TV just now … I’m in danger, and now I’m putting your family in danger.”
“So you just fuck me and take off?”
This she cares about?
Daniel thought incredulously. Not Cody’s finding out about them, not schoolwork or college, or even about next month.
This?
“I thought you were different,” she said. “One of those smart sensitive types. But you’re like all the rest … you get what you want and you leave.”
That stung. And it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Daniel was enamored with her. Imperfect as Luanne was, he cared about her. She was etched in his memory for life, no matter where his journeys took him.
“That’s not true,” he said.
He wanted to tell her what she meant to him, but there wasn’t time. He was only going on fourteen but it felt like twenty, and there wasn’t enough time to relay two decades worth of hardship. He’d spent so much of his life holding in disappointments and other things—expressing positive emotions didn’t come easily. He stuck to his guns. “My life—my life is over. Yours is just starting.”
“You’re not makin’ any sense,” she said. He noted her reining in her anger when he said his life was over. It affected her—worried her. She was having one of those rare moments of absolute clarity. Did Luanne actually feel the same way about him? He was two years younger than her—light-years apart in teen hierarchy. He was a toy for her amusement—some passive-aggressive fun to scratch her itch and get back at her asshole boyfriend.
Luanne was on the cusp of tears—a look Daniel recognized because he’d seen it in his own mirror before. It was the look one had when a person was powerless to stop a person of value from leaving their life, prompting views of one’s own worthlessness in the scheme of life. Daniel always resented his private pity parties. He’d never been the object of such a response in anyone else. He didn’t like it any better from this side.
Luanne needed the truth … if only to help her understand how little she had to do with his need to leave.
“The authorities are after me,” he explained. “I did something awful in Baltimore … that’s why Colby hid me here. I thought I was safe, but that’s not the case anymore. If the cops find me here, you and your mom would be in big trouble.”
“Cops? Danny, what did you do?” she asked, genuinely concerned—sounding like a girlfriend.
The words wouldn’t come out. He’d suffered through Katie Millar’s rejection of him when he was as clean and wholesome as kids came—now he was dirty … a murderer. Luanne’s rejection of him inside of the same week would crush whatever there was left of him that kept him going. He realized just that moment, faced with the need to flee, how much Luanne meant to him. Love had been absent through much of his life. His parents didn’t care for him, his teachers didn’t love him, his best friend betrayed him, and the one girl he would have moved heaven and earth to make happy said she would never feel the same way about him. There was a vast deficit of this elusive emotion in his life, an epic drought of affection. He wasn’t a bad person—as human beings went, Daniel thought he was fairly decent compared with others. And yet, no one thought of him the way he wanted to be thought of … until Luanne.
Daniel had been smitten with her since before she came into his bed, something he never tried for or imagined could happen. She was completely wrong for him, yet somehow they filled a need in each other. Danny wanted to tell her anything else but the truth … make up something less horrendous. He couldn’t stand to experience her revulsion over what he’d done. But he couldn’t lie to her either.
“I—I killed my stepfather,” he said.
She sucked in her breath. “Oh, my God.”
“He was abusing me—tried to kill me. I fought back—and now he’s dead.”
Luanne’s eyes widened, reflecting the trickle of light in the dark room.
What is she thinking?
he wondered.
Fear? That she took a murderer into her bed?
Luanne was stuck, her pouty mouth opened, probing her thoughts as she gazed into him to confirm his confession. He fought back tears, but his eyes welled up anyway, confessing his shame—revealing his burden. Luanne approached and placed her hand on his chest. His heart pulsed against her warm palm and perfectly manicured nails. Luanne put her arms around Daniel, pressed her naked flesh against him, and gave him a powerful hug. She kissed him tenderly on the cheek and neck. His tears fell, streaking his cheek before landing on his lover’s shoulders. And he knew that against all the odds in the world, Luanne cared about him.
“I wasn’t supposed to have feelin’s for you,” she said. “It was just a job. I don’t know how it happened.”
“Huh?”
“You need to run,” she told him, wiping tears from her eyes. “Away from here … from Uncle Cole, too.”
“Huh?”
“He paid mama to take you in. He paid me to keep an eye on you.” She looked at her shopping bags, finally answering his question about the money. She found her purse in the mess and pulled a roll of money out. She stuffed it into Daniel’s jean pocket.
“Colby’s broke,” Daniel said, confused. “A transient I ran into in the Baltimore bus station … randomly.”
“He’s a private detective in New York,” Luanne corrected. “Smart as the devil, too. Mama said he had a run of bad luck with the law up north. Can’t be broke, though, ’cause he gave me three thousand dollars to make you stay put. Said you were in trouble—that people after you were worse than the police. He might be on your side or workin’ a reward angle to get in good with someone. Who knows with Uncle Cole? Danny, you can’t trust
anyone
.”
Daniel tried to process this new information, but had trouble getting it down. He wasn’t anyone of note before killing Clyde—just a regular school kid. Why would he be on anyone’s hit list? No one had even heard of Clyde’s death when he was at the bus station in Maryland. Why was he on some New York detective’s radar?
Headlights momentarily illuminated the room as a car turned the corner. It came to a halt outside Luanne’s front door, horn blaring. Cody, his lackeys, and Eljay spilled out of the DeVille like clowns from a circus car.
“LUANNE!” bellowed Cody from outside. “Send that piece of shit artist out now and get your white trash ass out here, too!”
“Jig’s up,” Daniel said.
“I can’t believe she told!” Luanne said. “We pinkie swore!”
“Water under the bridge,” Daniel said, zipping up his jacket and throwing his pack on. He wanted to ask her to come with him, but she was already in enough trouble. Once the authorities realized he’d stayed there, they’d drag her and Bev to the station for questioning. Before tonight, Luanne and Bev could claim they didn’t know. Going forward, though, it’s aiding and abetting.
“Is Cody going to hurt you?” Daniel asked.
“Cody? If that meathead ever tried, my mother would rip his nuts out. Brooklyn Bev don’t put up with that shit. Go out the back. I’ll hold him off in front with mama’s shotgun—make him think you’re hidin’ under the bed for a while.”
That was not the kind of image Daniel wanted to leave people with, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She kissed him one last time; his hand brushed her nipple softly and he felt it stiffen. She smiled. He mustered his last remaining will to pull away, and exited by the rear deck.
CHAPTER 29
I’LL TAKE CRAZY-ASS MESSENGER OF GOD FOR $300
Daniel shut the sliding door behind him softly. A cold, light rain fell intermittently. The backyard was pitch black, unlike the front, which had porch lights. He quietly maneuvered the slick creaky wooden steps and stopped at the edge of the trailer. Cody continued shouting out front. Footsteps approached his position from around the corner. Daniel guessed he had about a second before the person’s eyes adjusted to the total darkness in the back. He crouched low below the sight line and hoped it wasn’t the really big redhead or Eljay because he wasn’t comfortable hitting giants and or girls.
Luck was with him … it was greasy Weasel. Weasel turned the corner, and walked past Daniel, but then stopped, just making him out in the darkness. He was about to shout to his crew, but Daniel used the surprise advantage to launch his fist into Weasel’s larynx before the kid could even get his hands up in defense. Weasel made a gasping sound, like someone choking on a chicken bone. He gasped, unable to draw air or shout for help, staggered a bit, and fell to his knees near the deck. Daniel drove Weasel’s head into the deck with a straight kick to his temple. The toady slumped to the ground motionless. Out front, Luanne was screaming at Cody to go to hell or she’d blow his nut sack off.
Was it just him, or did Luanne channel a lot of her anger toward testicles?