Page 12 of Small Town Hunter

“Oh, I saw a man like that,” nods Jada. “He went into that motel last night with a lady. I was on a couple dates this morning though, so I might have missed if they left on foot.”

It’s a more thorough answer than I expected. Seems McCall wanted some female comfort after that long drive. No short supply of that around here.

“He take any bags in with him?” I ask her.

“Yeah. Suitcase. Looked heavy. Anything else? Come on, you made me walk over for nothing?”She touches my arm, squeezing.

It’s been a year. More than that. And I haven’t, not even once.

“Show me,” I say roughly.

Knowing my meaning, she pulls the bikini top off and two real pretty breasts bounce at me, for me. Her nipples are dark red and shiny. She squirms in the seat, pressing her legs together. I swear to God I can smell her and it’s good. Too good. Familiar, female.

Her hand flutters towards me. I remove it.

Control is an iron trap door that I shut on the fantasy.

“Thank you,” I say after a time. “But I’m married.” It’s true, technically.

She winks. “Nothing wrong with a little temptation.”

“I’m living proof there is, sugar,” I tell her wearily.

She laughs, putting her breasts away. Her eyes land on the crucifix hanging from the rearview. She’s thinking. Religious guy, married — she just needs the magic words to have my key dancing into her lock.

“You sure that’s all you want?” She coos.

Handing her a twenty, I tell her, “If you see my redhead friend come out, or his lady, you call me on this number. Hear anything, call me. You have a phone?”

“Duh,” she says. “This is the twenty-first century.”

I hand her a card with my number. Only my number. I have plenty of these on me at all times, and they come in handy for jobs like this.

“Just let me know who’s coming and going in there, alright?” I tell her.

“You bet, handsome. You sure you don’t want your dick sucked? I swallow and everything.”

“I’m happy for you, darlin’, but all I want right now is some grub.”

“The place over there makes a plate good,” she suggests. “My man Crocodile? He always takes us there after work.”

I guess Crocodile is her pimp. I turn my head to read the sign — BURGER PALACE.

Sure, why not.

“Pleasure doing business,” I tell her.

“You too, Virginia,” she winks, and slides out of the car.

A train’s coming. The ground trembles and the deafening whistle drowns out her goodbye. Don’t know how people can live next to trains.

I watch Jada walk away real slow and face the opposite direction, towards the motel doors. So I have a lookout for however long twenty dollars will buy. Unless she’s got another “date”.

Hell, I don’t know how people do a lot of things.

Burger Palace it is. While McCall enjoys the company of his lady friend, I can patch the hole in my stomach that’s been groaning since I lit out of Virginia in the middle of the night chasing his hide.

This town is called Tippalonga. It ain’t much to look at. From what I can tell, the center of its universe is the church. Everywhere I see signs about this Reverend, warning me that my soul is bound for eternal hellfire if I don’t go to his church.

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