Page 31 of Deathmarch
“No home?”
“Cheaper this way. If I can find a motel room on $79.99 special for the night, every night for a whole year, it works out to be around twenty-nine grand.”
“Still a lot of money.”
“Sometimes they run third-night-free specials. Or offer other coupons. Sometimes, when I’m in a town working at their Founders’ Day parade or other festival, the tourist board will comp the room for me.” She shrugged. “Last place I rented was fifteen hundred a month. Another two hundred for utilities. Cable and internet some more money. Renter’s insurance. And I spent more on gas because I had to keep going back to home base. Then, at the end, the landlord kicked me out so he could upgrade the apartment and raise the rent. I didn’t bother looking for another place after that.”
He watched her thoughtfully for a while before he said, “I didn’t realize a person could make a living from historical reenactment.”
“As long as I manage to book two gigs per week. It’s nice to be my own boss. I like not having to depend on anybody.”
Seconds ticked by in silence. Harper crossed his legs at the ankles. “I’m sorry about Tony’s death. I’m sure it hit you hard when he died. He wasn’t a saint. But he raised you.”
“To a point.”
“What do you mean?”
“He left on my eighteenth birthday.” Allie closed her eyes for a second. Breathed.There,she wasn’t going to cry. “When he got real drunk and mean, he used to tell me he never wanted me in the first place. Hooked up with some woman one night at a bar, and she dropped a kid on his doorstep nine months later. The first and only time he got played.”
She was only talking because the alternative was silence and contemplating the fact that she was in jail. She needed distraction. Even if it was conversation with a man she hated.
“You told me some of that before,” Harper said, “but I was just a stupid kid. I didn’t realize what it all meant for you. How it must have made you feel. I’m sorry.”
“Doesn’t matter. I didn’t want anyone’s pity. I already had people’s disapproval.” She dropped her gaze to the stupid rubber flip-flops. “He used to say he kept me for the food stamps and because the power company would work with you on payments if you have a kid. And because judges would release him without bail sometimes, since he was the sole caregiver.”
She fought to keep her tone emotionless so Harper wouldn’t guess how much the memory of those conversations hurt her still. She wasn’t going to give him ammunition that he could use to manipulate her later.
Harper frowned. “He just lit out and left you?”
“With thousands of dollars’ worth of unpaid rent. And a landlord who tried to collect that rent in kind, like he tried before.” She pulled her legs up onto the bench and hugged her knees. “Anyway, water under the bridge.”
“Dicky Poole?” The lines around Harper’s mouth deepened. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“You called me, remember? You left a message.”
“How do you know about that? I went by your place a few days after I called. My message was still blinking on the machine. I didn’t think you got it.”
“When you called, I was standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring through the window, watching my father’s brand-new pickup disappear down the street. I didn’t pick up because I was crying too hard to speak. You said on the machine that you couldn’t come over that night, or any other night. You told me we shouldn’t see each other anymore. You broke up with me.”
Harper pushed to his feet. “Fuck.” He faced the cell, feet apart, battle stance. “Are you telling me you didn’t skip town with your father?”
“I left alone a couple of hours later. After the landlord came by for the rent, saw the situation, then shoved me against the wall and groped me while he told me in detail what I would have to do to be able to stay. Once I pushed him out and he left, I packed up and drove my piece-of-junk car as far as the gas in the tank could take me. I ran out of fuel in State College.”
“Then what?”
“Got a job as a waitress. Eventually, I started taking classes. Since I was broke beyond broke, I qualified for financial aid. I studied—”
“History,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“Mrs. Jordan used to be your favorite teacher.”
She almost smiled.God,she’d loved Mrs. Jordan. Idolized her. The kindest woman Allie had ever known, one of the few people who’d never once judged Allie by her father. One of the few people who’d made living in Broslin bearable.
“How is she?”
Harper’s voice softened as he said, “Died last year.”
