Graveyard Games (13 page)

Shane opened his mouth to protest, but
Buzzcut interrupted him. "Thanks, but I think I've had enough pool
for one night."

"Aww, you lost that one,
Princess." Shane sounded almost affectionate. The old nickname made
her head snap toward him.
How old were we?
Ten? Twelve? Nick used to sound the trumpets and Shane would
pretend to roll out the red carpet—
SNIP

She smiled grimly. "I think we still have a
score to settle."

“
Do we?” He smiled back,
his gaze moving down her face to the not inconsiderable V of her
blouse. Dusty flushed as if his eyes were burning her with their
heat and when his gaze shifted back to her face, she felt his focus
and attention on her completely.

“
Don’t we?” She felt her
tone melting, morphing from her earlier, angrier one into something
softer. He took a step toward her and she didn’t move back, letting
him fill her space.

“
Always got something to
prove, don’t you?” he murmured, his eyes never leaving
hers.

“
I intend to,” she agreed,
tilting her head and giving him a slow, seductive smile. “One way
or another.”

His gaze moved to her mouth when she licked
her lips and she thought she heard his breath pull in slightly when
she let herself lean into him for a moment.

Then he took a quick step back, mumbling,
"You’re something else," as he unzipped his leather, shaking his
head. He frowned and glanced toward her again. "When did you start
working here, anyway?"

"Couple days ago,” she replied, ignoring
Chris’ look of surprise as she turned and slid up onto the edge of
the pool table. She saw Shane noticing when she crossed her legs,
her hemline riding dangerously high. “Where've you been?"

"Why, you been looking for
me?" Shane asked, turning back to his friends. The three of
them—Billy, Chris and Jake—just stood there watching, cue sticks in
hand. "I
said,
rack ’em, Chris."

Chris moved slowly toward the table,
reaching into pockets and rolling balls onto the green surface.

"Maybe." She tilted her eyes up at Shane,
noting his gaze moving up her legs. “So, where were you?”

He shrugged his leather off, tossing it onto
a chair and moving back toward her. She let him come close—too
close—leaning against the pool table beside her, his mouth close to
her ear. He whispered, “Hunting.”

She caught her breath, keeping it shallow,
and looked sideways at him. “Seems like you haven’t stopped.”

He took a step back and smiled. “I never
do.”

“
What were you hunting?”
she inquired. “It’s not deer season.”

“
It’s not Dusty season
either,” he replied with a wink. “And since when have I paid
attention to the DNR?”

“
Poaching?”

“
Call it what you want.”
He shrugged. “Anyway, I wasn’t looking for deer.”

“
So, what were you looking
for?” She lifted her eyes to his, watchful. “A bobcat?”

“
Not me.” His gaze never
wavered. “The Keystone Cops got that one under control,
right?”

She smirked. “I hear Buck Thompson’s up for
re-election.”

“
Oh the cynicism.” He held
his hand over his heart. “What happened to our naïve little
princess?”

She rolled her eyes. “I was never as
innocent as anyone thought I was.”

“
That much I believe.” His
smile was slow, knowing, and he winked as he picked up his cue
stick.

“
You’re not going to tell
me what you were hunting for, are you?”

“
Sure.” He reached out to
line up the cue ball, glancing at her as she turned toward him,
still sitting on the edge of the table. “When you tell me what you
were fired for.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “You first.”

“
What, don’t you trust me,
Princess?” He laughed, aiming the stick and making a solid hit,
scattering pool balls in all directions.

“
Feh!” She shrugged,
tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I know you.”

The emotion in his eyes was warm. “You seem
to think you do.”

Lee whistled and motioned for Dusty. She
nodded and waved, sliding off the table. "Got to get back to
work."

"Maybe I'll see you around," Shane called as
she started to walk away. She glanced over her shoulder at him. He
was watching her retreating form with great interest. The eyes of a
hunter, she thought. It was definitely a useful trait in a man,
especially this one.

She shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe.”

"Are you okay, Duh-Dusty?" Sam asked when
she reached the bar, putting his hand on her arm. She smiled at
him, but her stomach was tilting sideways. For some reason, being
around Shane always did that to her.

"I'm fine," she told him.

"I swear to god, if you ever pull something
like that again, I'll kill you myself," Lee said in a low voice,
his dark eyes flashing.

Dusty gave him a slow, steady look, but he
didn’t back down. "I didn't notice anyone else doing anything," she
snapped. "I thought you took care of fights?"

"Not those kind." He shook his head. "You've
got a lot to learn. Situations like that don’t get dangerous unless
they’re interfered with."

"It looked pretty dangerous for the other
guy,” she scoffed. “Or do you always make those kinds of exceptions
for Shane Curtis?"

"Don't interfere, Dusty. I mean it."

She didn’t reply. She didn’t want to lose
this job.

"Huh-he's dangerous." Sam’s brow furrowed as
he looked at her.

"Fine." She turned away from him. "Next
time, I'll let someone get killed, okay?"

Sam caught up with her.
"Uh-are you sh-sh-
sure
you're uh-okay?" His blue eyes were filled with concern and,
Dusty noted, something deeper.

She sighed and swallowed around something in
her throat. "Don't worry about me, Sam.”

Shane watched her from the pool table while
Chris was taking a shot. She felt his gaze, like a heat, following
her.

What
am I doing? What am I getting myself into?

She touched Sam's hand. "I can take care of
myself."

* * * *

Dusty slipped her key into the lock and
opened the door. Julia had taken to locking it in the past few
weeks, and it was strange to use a key.

She yawned, kicking off her shoes in the
darkened kitchen, the only light a luminous green from the clock on
the microwave. She threw her jacket over a chair and opened the
refrigerator. The pitcher of Kool-Aid was sitting between the milk
and a four pack of wine coolers and Dusty grabbed it.

We must have consumed
gallons of this, she thought, getting herself a glass. Between the
ages of six and sixteen, Kool-Aid had topped even Pepsi or Coke
in
their
taste
tests.

Nick used to—
SNIP

She poured herself a glass in the greenish
glow of the clock.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Dusty gasped, whirling around, her heart
beating fast against her throat. She lost her grip on the plastic
pitcher and cherry Kool-Aid flooded the linoleum.

"You scared me!" Dusty cried.

Julia flipped on the kitchen light and Dusty
squinted against the brightness. She groped in the cupboard under
the sink, taking out rags and beginning to mop up the mess. She
placed the almost empty pitcher on the counter and the red-stained
rags in the sink.

"It's two thirty in the morning, do you know
that?" Julia sat on a kitchen chair.

Dusty leaned against the counter, arms
folded across her chest, waiting.

"Patty White let it slip about you working
at the Starlite today,” Julia went on. “I didn't even know what she
was talking about! Who told you you could go work in some sleazy
bar?"

"I'm think I’m old enough to make my own
decisions," Dusty told her. "I can work anywhere I want."

"Not while you're living under my roof!"
Julia spat. Dusty watched her light a cigarette—another recent
habit, or rather, an old one taken up again. "Why didn't you tell
us you were working there?"

"Why bother?" Dusty ran a tired hand across
her eyes. “You don’t listen to me anyway.”

There was a moment of silence.

"Do you want to go to hell?” Julia asked,
her voice flat. “It’s certainly not a Christian place to work. I
want you to quit tomorrow.”

"Oh my god!" Dusty pushed away from the
sink.

“
Don’t you take the Lord’s
name in vain!”

"I'm not eight-years-old anymore!” Dusty
hissed. “Just stay out of my life! You've shut Nick out of your
life, why don't you just shut me out, too?"

"That was uncalled for."
Julia’s cigarette winked. "I care about you, Dusty. The Starlite
isn’t the place for someone in our family to be working. I
worry
about
you."

Dusty watched her stab the half-finished
cigarette out into the ashtray sitting on the kitchen table. Dusty
closed her eyes and an image of Nick emerged sitting at that very
table, in that very spot, and she winced.

"You don't ask about me or
my life." Dusty met Julia's eyes. "Maybe if you were really
interested, really
worried
about me, you would have known a week ago where I
was working, but you're not. You're worried, all right—about
yourself, and what this town is going to think about
you
having a daughter
who works at the Starlite."

"Look at you!" Julia hissed. "You look like
a streetwalker in that outfit! Are you sure it wasn’t true, what
they fired you for? Were you turning tricks, Dusty? Were you?"

"Will you listen to yourself?" Dusty blinked
in hurt surprise. "Let's get something straight. I'm not quitting
this job. Period. End of discussion."

"It certainly is
not
the end of the
discussion!"

Dusty turned away from her and started
toward the stairs.

"I won’t have you working there! Dusty, did
you hear me? Get back here!"

Dusty went up the stairs and she didn’t look
back.

* * * *

Slanted shadows from her
half-open bedroom door made lines of sun on the wall. Dusty stood
and looked at it, reading
Murphy's
Law.
Somehow she never got past the first
sentence. She found herself standing here a lot lately, just
outside his door.

Anything that can go wrong
will anything that can go wrong will anything that can
gowrongwillanything—
over and over, the
same sentence.

Her hand trembled on the doorknob. The scene
had the same, surreal quality of her dream. Her hand felt
disconnected, her heart throbbed in her throat and the world was
somehow tilting sideways. She started to turn the doorknob.

the holes where his eyes had been… looked
like he got himself caught up in a meat grinder… the holes… looked
inside out… the blood…

The dreams continued.
Night after night, he came to her, sightless, begging her to help
him, do something,
do
something!

Her hand dropped away, and she backed up
until she felt the wall behind her. When she turned away from the
door, she tasted her tears.

Chapter Seven

"Gu-gu-guess who?" Sam asked, leaning
against the bar.

Dusty glanced at him. "Two Millers,
Lee…what’s that, Sam?"

Sam nodded toward the door, his face screwed
up, looking like he had bitten into something very sour.
"Lu-lu-look whose huh-here."

She turned her head toward the door. Shane
was making his way toward a table—alone. She checked her watch.
Seven was early for him.

"Here you go." Lee handed her two beers. She
put them on her tray.

"Don't worry," she told Sam with a smile. "I
can handle him."

Dusty set the beers on the table of the two
women who’d ordered them, and then she started toward Shane's
table.

"Well, here comes the
Princess." Shane leaned back in his chair as she approached. "I
figured you’d have run out of here with your tail between your legs
by now, fraternizing with the likes of us.
”

"No such luck." Her eyes flicked over him,
recognizing the words he threw back at her from their conversation
the night before. "I’m tougher than you give me credit for.”

“
No doubt.” Shane inclined
his head toward her. “Nick always said you were hard as
nails.”

She felt her jaw tighten at his words.
Whenever anyone mentioned Nick, it felt like someone had kicked her
in the stomach.

“
So, I hear you’ve been
hunting on Native land again.”

His eyes widened and now it was he who
looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “Who told you that?”

Dusty shrugged. “I overhear things.” So she
had asked Lee about Shane’s hunting excursions and he had been more
forthcoming than she imagined. She wasn’t going to tell Shane
that.

“
So do I,” he replied,
recovering. “Where’s your gun and your badge, officer?”

“
Way to change the
subject.” Dusty rolled her eyes, trying to cover the pain. “So
how’s your brother? Still in jail?"

He shook his head. "You really hate me,
don't you?"

Dusty shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose I
would—if I ever gave it any thought."

“
Gimme a beer,” he said
with a sigh.

"What do you want?"

"World peace? Win the lotto? Nick alive
again?" He met her eyes and she frowned.