Page 22 of Forty

After Ray’s, Shirlene buys me a sandwich at Duck’s diner. While we’re waiting for our BLTs, she hands me thirty bucks’ cash, and asks me if I’m up for more tomorrow.

“Like a job?”

“Like a job.”

“How many old guys are you taking care of?”

“I don’t know. A dozen or so. Not all guys. Some old ladies, too. And I keep an eye on Hobs so Aunt Carol gets a respite.”

“He’s no better?”

“Not much.”

Hobs is Heavy and Harper’s younger brother. When he was in high school, a Rebel Raider took a baseball bat to his skull. Traumatic brain injury. He was another victim of the war between Steel Bones and the Raiders. Poor kid. Senseless.

“Yeah. I’ll help you tomorrow.”

“Wear grungy clothes. While I’ve got you, we’re gonna go back to Ray’s. Attack that kitchen.”

“Holy Lord.”

“He can’t help you. Only bleach and an N95 mask can.” Shirlene sneaks an arm across the table and pats my hand. “You hangin’ in there?”

“I’m a tough cookie.” I crunch on my pickle.

“You in trouble?”

“I’m always in trouble.”

“You need a gun? I got one in my purse.”

“Shit, Shirlene. Lower your voice.” I glance around the diner, but it’s mostly empty at this point in the afternoon.

“Relax, city girl. This is still a concealed carry state.”

“I don’t need a gun.” Probably. Maybe. “But I’ll take the job.”

“All right. But if you change your mind, ask. End of the day, a woman has to rely on herself.”

She digs back into her rice pudding, ignoring me, and I take the opportunity to soak her in. Unlike Boots, she looks older. Her silver hair doesn’t have the shine it used to, and she has age spots on her cheeks. Her elbows seem like the bones are wearing through the skin.

She’s still a tough broad, but there’s a carefulness to her movements that’s new.

Who’s been making sure that Shirlene takes care of herself?

“I’ll do the driving tomorrow, okay?”

Shirlene narrows her eyes. “You got a problem with my driving?”

“Not at all. I love a leisurely drive in the country with Grandma.”

She flips me the bird and then waves the waitress over to wrap up her leftover sandwich. She makes sure to do five miles over the speed limit all the way back to her house.

She makes me take half a frozen banana bread home to Lou. I have to admit, I’m feeling kind of lonely as I head for Barrow Road. The day was nearly perfect. It’s easy being with people from the club. It sucks so hard most of them dropped me like a hot potato. I’m taking the long way home, rocking out to outlaw country, feeling sorry for myself, when I get a call from Fay-Lee.

“Girl! Up for round two?”

A second ago, before she called, I’d been planning on drowning my sorrows in salt and vinegar potato chips, so round two sounds pretty good. I love Fay-Lee. She’s beanpole skinny with the thickest hick accent I’ve ever heard and the devil in her eyes. She speaks to me on a deep, deep level.

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