Highway Song: A Smokey's Roadhouse Novel (7 page)

I avoided Smokey
’
s eyes as I hurried to make the rounds of the tables, but there was no escaping them when I went to the order station. His rheumy gaze never left my face as I recited the drinks I needed.

When I was finished, he started drawing the beers, saying,
“
Amy, what you do on your own time is your business. But
…”

“
Don
’
t worry,
”
I interrupted.
“
It won
’
t happen again. I
’
m sorry.
”

“
Let me finish. You wouldn
’
t be the first to ever run off with someone who was just passin
’
through. But watch out for his type. Ever
’
where he goes, he probly has a dozen split-tails tryin
’
to get backstage and attract his attention. You wanta stay outta sight, shack up with one of the Devils.
”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he wasn
’
t looking. Besides the unwelcome advice to latch onto one of the club members, how did he know I wanted to stay out of sight? I hadn
’
t told him my story. It was too dangerous a secret to share. Did he know more about me than I realized? Cold invaded my blood and broke me out in goosebumps. Maybe I should move on now. But damn it, I wasn
’
t ready. Running off with Rex wasn
’
t a better option, even if the invitation was open. And I wasn
’
t sure it was.

He probably meant nothing more than a night of sex and then goodbye. I never expected more, to be honest. I
’
d been trained not to expect anything, in all my years of running. Only one other man had ever cared about me as more than a hole to stick his dick in, and that man was dead.

I nodded at Smokey and took my loaded tray to distribute the drinks among my customers. It was bad form to watch them put tips on the tray as I passed, but I kept my eyes on the cash anyway. By the time the night was over, I might have to make a decision about whether to stay or to go, and the amount I earned tonight could be important to making that decision. I tried to remember what Frank had taught me about avoiding confrontation with my demons.

Between rounds, I hovered behind the bar, sometimes spelling Smokey when he wanted to jaw with his friends, and sometimes just staring out at the room with my eyes unfocused, remembering.

Frank had been the one to find me, the night I reached my lowest point. I didn
’
t remember much about that night, only the flash of recurring dream that
’
s part of the nightmare cycle. For that matter, it might not have been the same night. What I do remember is a deep masculine voice, saying,
‘
What the fuck is this?
’
Colored lights flash behind a dark silhouette, and then strong arms putting something warm around me and picking me up.

My memory doesn
’
t begin to be complete until later. I remember the meth hangover, when I couldn
’
t find the energy to get dressed. Somehow, I was in a clean, bright place, and the people there made me eat. Food tasted like sawdust, and I saw everything in shades of gray even though it was light all the time. I couldn
’
t sleep, even when the light went dim. I don
’
t know how long I was there. They told me later that Frank had brought me in. Frank who?

Later, excruciating pain racked my body. I would have ended it all then, if there had been a way. I stole a fork from the cafeteria and tried to open the veins in my wrists, but the tines weren
’
t strong enough. While I was in the infirmary, the jagged insults to my wrists bandaged and my hands tied to the bed rails, a nice-looking cop visited me. He told me to hang in there
—
it would get worse before it got better, but if I stayed, I
’
d be free of the craving. I didn
’
t believe him, or trust him. I
’
d never had a reason to trust a cop. I didn
’
t have a choice about staying anyway.

“
Who was that?
”
I asked them.

“
That
’
s Frank. He brought you in,
”
they answered.

“
Why?
”

“
It
’
s what he does.
”

Later, when the pain wasn
’
t so bad and I started meeting with a counselor, I heard his name again. Frank. His face became the symbol of hope that I visualized when the craving kicked me back to the curb. He became the one person in the world I didn
’
t want to disappoint. And when I was finally done with the program, five months after he
’
d brought me in, Frank was there to pick me up.

My first reaction was disappointment. In my mind, he
’
d become a superhero, and was much better looking than the fifty-something guy who wheeled me out of the treatment center and put me in his squad car. At the time, I assumed he wanted me to pay for his help in the only way I had to repay him
—
with sex. So, as soon as he slid into the driver
’
s seat, I reached for his zipper. He stopped my hand by grabbing my wrist.

“
No, Amy. That isn
’
t what I want.
”
His voice was kind, but firm.

It wasn
’
t what he wanted? It was what every other man I
’
d ever met had wanted. I waited for him to tell me what to do.

“
I want the scumbag who did that to you. Do you remember the night we met?
”
he asked.

“
Not well,
”
I had to confess.

“
I found you naked in a gutter. You had cigarette burns all over your arms and breasts.
”

I knew that. I
’
d seen the scars.

“
You were crashing hard, and the doctors said you
’
d had sex with more than one man, based on the evidence they left behind. Do you remember any of that?
”

I
’
d been over this with the counselors. Hadn
’
t they told him?
“
I remember some. My pimp gave me the meth at first. He said it would relax me. I don
’
t remember that night, though. I guess I pulled a train.
”

His face went hard, and he slid past what I said.
“
Your pimp. Okay, I want him. And I don
’
t want you to go back to that life. What would you like to do, Amy? Besides prostitution. That
’
s not an option anymore. If you go back to that life, you
’
re going to die young.
”

I didn
’
t know anything else. Frank took me home with him and gave me a room of my own. In return for testifying against my former pimp, Octavio, when Frank arrested him, he gave me a home until I could figure it out. I was eighteen.

My attention stopped wandering when I spotted the band
’
s manager, Mark, coming in the front door. He looked unhappy, and he went straight to Rex, who soon looked unhappy too. The others all started talking at once. I looked at the clock on the computer, and saw it was time for another sweep through the room. Maybe I could figure out what was going on if I went to that table first.

“
Anybody need a drink here?
”
I asked, pasting a smile on my face.

The grouchy one, Ike, answered for the rest.
“
We all do, but your asshole boss won
’
t serve us anymore.
”

Rex gave him a disgusted look.
“
Actually, we
’
re having a bit of trouble coming up with the cash to pay off our tab, but the owner did say he
’
d feed us. Is the kitchen still open?
”

I hadn
’
t heard they
’
d been cut off, and it was late for dinner, but I said I
’
d ask. Then I made my rounds before I went back to the bar to talk to Smokey. He confirmed that I wasn
’
t to serve them any more booze, but conceded he couldn
’
t very well let them starve. The kitchen was open for a limited menu, since it was after ten.

As I went around giving the other patrons their drinks, I couldn
’
t help but notice the mournful looks from the band
’
s table. If I
’
d been able, I
’
d have bought them a round. But tips were too hard to come by, and I didn
’
t dare deplete my savings. I did have an idea, though.

“
Smokey, what do you think about letting them work off their tab? Would it bring in more business if you had them play tomorrow night?
”

He stared at me. For a few moments, I thought I
’
d overstepped, but then a smile slowly made its way across his face.
“
You know, that
’
s not a bad idea. If they aren
’
t too high and mighty to play a small place like this, that might just work out. You go see if they want to do it.
”

“
Me?!
”

“
Your idea. Go and see if your boyfriend will agree to it.
”

“
He
’
s not
…”

“
Just do it.
”

SIX

Smokey

M
y old lady warned me not to get attached to that little gal. Wasn
’
t no secret, not to us, she was in some kinda trouble. Didn
’
t say what, just sashayed in one night and said she had experience. We needed the help, and it never made no difference to us what the past held. Plenty of kids got themselves all fucked up young, like this one had. You could tell by the look of her. Always lookin
’
over her shoulder, like somethin
’
was creepin
’
up on her.

Our boy would
’
ve been about her age, if he
’
d made it outta that hellhole. Damnedest thing, him gettin
’
killed over there after I made it through
‘
Nam. Like Fate was owed a life, and because I
’
d made it, my boy had to die. I wished it was me, when it happened. No use wishin
’
.

The old lady said it made me soft, wantin
’
to pick up ever
’
stray crossed my path. Fuck that. I had no use for most of the kids the club whelped. Sorry bastards, ever
’
one of
‘
em. Some of the Dust Bunnies was okay, others hard as granite. Sylvie kept
‘
em in line
—
I didn
’
t mess with the club
’
s fun. But them girls wasn
’
t strays like she meant. They chose to hang out with us.

This gal was different, though. Hard worker. She was scared of somethin
’
, but it wasn
’
t work. After the other gal took sick, this
’
n agreed to work double shifts, so Sylvie wouldn
’
t have to come in ever
’
night. Gettin
’
too old for it, my old lady, even though she still looked damn good to me in tight pants and a low-cut blouse. We
’
d get home and I
’
d wanta get it on, watchin
’
her all night. She
’
d tell me she was too tired. Never used to be too tired.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. That gal, Amy. If I
’
s to guess, I
’
d say she mighta made her livin
’
on her back, before she come in here. Walked like it. Swayin
’
her hips and all, and she had two or three of them tops, looked like she oughtta have a whip in her hand and some high-heel boots laced up to her knees. Thought she was here to audition for one of our videos, when she first come in. She set me straight.
‘
Not interested.
’
Didn
’
t have no trouble keepin
’
the customers hands offa her, either.