Page 20
Story: Going Once
She pulled her arm free. “The bank and the Dollar Store. Where have you been?”
He winced. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I just… We didn’t…”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him outside. Every local person in the gym knew the history between them. She’d already caught some curious glances, and what she had to say didn’t need to be overheard.
“Look, we don’t owe each other anything. I appreciate the reason you’re here, but I don’t think I’m in any danger in broad daylight. I have enough sense not to get in cars with strangers and no one knows what I saw, so you do your thing and I’ll do mine. When it’s over, you’ll be gone just like before.”
Tate wanted to shake her, but he could tell by the jut of her chin that she wasn’t going to budge. He’d burned his bridges with her and had no one to blame but himself.
“Fine. I hear you. Now you hear me. The Tidewater police know what you saw and they told the police here. And secrets like that don’t stay secret long. The Stormchaser isn’t someone to fuck with, Nola. So all I’m asking is if you leave the gym, let someone know so I won’t have to imagine you with a bullet hole in your head, too. Deal?”
“Yes. Fine.”
She walked past him and inside, carried her purchases to her cot and stowed them under it, then went to find Laura.
“Hey, there you are,” Laura said as she saw Nola walking through the gym.
“I’m a little shaky, but I don’t like to sit and do nothing. Is there anything I can do to help?” Nola asked.
Laura pointed at a pair of middle-aged women who were standing over a small four-burner stove in the concession area.
“Ask Peg or Mary. They’re in charge.”
Nola eyed the women, noting their matching curly perms and copper-red hair. If the number of wrinkles on their faces had anything to do with their ages, their hair was obviously dyed. She walked in and leaned across the counter.
“Excuse me. Laura said I should ask Peg and Mary if there’s anything I can do to help.”
The taller woman turned around.
“What’s your name, girl?”
“Nola.”
“Hi, Nola. I’m Peg. She’s Mary. We look alike because we’re sisters. She’s older, which is why I’m prettier, but she’s smarter, which is why I’m chopping onions and she’s not.”
Nola laughed out loud.
Both women laughed with her, and then Mary noticed the condition of her hands and wrists.
“Since you’re still bandaged up, you can’t be handling food, but when we begin to serve, you can hand out water bottles. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“As for right now, take a seat and talk to us. We haven’t heard a good story all day. What’s yours?”
Nola sat. “I spent the flood up a tree. How does that grab you?”
Both women turned around. “For real?”
“For real.”
“What about your home?”
“Gone, same as most everyone else who’s here.”
“Sorry, honey,” Mary said.
Nola shrugged. “Me, too.”
He winced. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I just… We didn’t…”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him outside. Every local person in the gym knew the history between them. She’d already caught some curious glances, and what she had to say didn’t need to be overheard.
“Look, we don’t owe each other anything. I appreciate the reason you’re here, but I don’t think I’m in any danger in broad daylight. I have enough sense not to get in cars with strangers and no one knows what I saw, so you do your thing and I’ll do mine. When it’s over, you’ll be gone just like before.”
Tate wanted to shake her, but he could tell by the jut of her chin that she wasn’t going to budge. He’d burned his bridges with her and had no one to blame but himself.
“Fine. I hear you. Now you hear me. The Tidewater police know what you saw and they told the police here. And secrets like that don’t stay secret long. The Stormchaser isn’t someone to fuck with, Nola. So all I’m asking is if you leave the gym, let someone know so I won’t have to imagine you with a bullet hole in your head, too. Deal?”
“Yes. Fine.”
She walked past him and inside, carried her purchases to her cot and stowed them under it, then went to find Laura.
“Hey, there you are,” Laura said as she saw Nola walking through the gym.
“I’m a little shaky, but I don’t like to sit and do nothing. Is there anything I can do to help?” Nola asked.
Laura pointed at a pair of middle-aged women who were standing over a small four-burner stove in the concession area.
“Ask Peg or Mary. They’re in charge.”
Nola eyed the women, noting their matching curly perms and copper-red hair. If the number of wrinkles on their faces had anything to do with their ages, their hair was obviously dyed. She walked in and leaned across the counter.
“Excuse me. Laura said I should ask Peg and Mary if there’s anything I can do to help.”
The taller woman turned around.
“What’s your name, girl?”
“Nola.”
“Hi, Nola. I’m Peg. She’s Mary. We look alike because we’re sisters. She’s older, which is why I’m prettier, but she’s smarter, which is why I’m chopping onions and she’s not.”
Nola laughed out loud.
Both women laughed with her, and then Mary noticed the condition of her hands and wrists.
“Since you’re still bandaged up, you can’t be handling food, but when we begin to serve, you can hand out water bottles. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“As for right now, take a seat and talk to us. We haven’t heard a good story all day. What’s yours?”
Nola sat. “I spent the flood up a tree. How does that grab you?”
Both women turned around. “For real?”
“For real.”
“What about your home?”
“Gone, same as most everyone else who’s here.”
“Sorry, honey,” Mary said.
Nola shrugged. “Me, too.”
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