Little Memphis (2 page)

Ford

Rivers of Blood

Suede isn’t much to look at from the outside. A lot of people think it’s a gay bar because of the name and the blue lights around the sign.

Not just anyone can walk through the front door of Suede. From five to one, Joker’s little brother Dimples works the door. Big and dumb, the guy isn’t good for anything else.

Tonight, Dimples is on the phone with his old lady who’s tearing him a new one. Pax laughs at the sound of the bouncer’s voice.

“Never getting whipped,” Pax says, sealing his fate.

I wonder if Pax will make it to the end of the year without whining to a woman for a second chance. Life is like that. First, you tell it what you will and won’t do. Then, life tells you what is really gonna happen.

I never make such threats. I roll with the life before me. Up or down, good or bad, I don’t care. I make my bed and lie in it. Don’t whine. Never look back. Just let things happen.

Hell, I’m thinking this when we reach Joker’s table. Of course, now that I’ve claimed to have it all figured out, life is bound to kick me in the balls. I know my wakeup call will be painful since fate wears steel tipped boots.

“How’s Nick feeling?” Joker asks, grinning.

The Little Memphis club VP has a nice guy vibe. You want someone to pick you up at the airport, why not ask old Joker? He’s a pal. That’s the lie anyway.

“My guess is his old lady took him to the hospital where they’ve pumped him full of morphine. If that’s the case, the fucker ain’t feeling nothing.”

Pax grins. “Morphine wears off.”

I share my brother’s smile as we turn our chairs around and sit down leaning against the backs. Joker has a laptop out and papers spread over the table. He’s like a rough-looking, yet ordinary businessman. I don’t know what he’s doing with all those papers. Don’t care either. I signed up to be an enforcer. It’s not my job to know the little details. I don’t want to manage shit. Just give me a guy to break and I’m in my zone.

“Nick is a symptom of a bigger problem,” Joker says, taking a swig of beer. “Folks in Little Memphis ain’t loyal and they have short memories. They don’t care about what you did for them yesterday. They only respect the big dog that’ll rip their throats out in the next few minutes. Once they smell weakness, they test management to see if there’s a hole in our armor.”

“Lot of fucking imagery there, boss,” I say, taking a beer from the waitress, Livie. “How bad off is Trigger?”

Joker is a bear of a guy. Jovial with a beard and happy eyes. Our president is lean and dark in every way. He shadows everyone around him. His voice is a rumble. I know he’s charming with the ladies, but I only saw a humorless fucker who killed enough men to end up on top.

Trigger never tells people his life story. He doesn’t have a past. Not even a fucking childhood. Trigger was born a full grown scary asshole and he won’t tell you anything different. Some people said he was a demon, after he survived getting shot so many times over the year. The guy was unkillable.

Well until he didn’t watch his fucking cholesterol and ended up with a double coronary. Even demons get old apparently.

“He’s surviving, but it’s not like he’s walking around town wagging his dick at anyone who looks at him wrong. Without Trigger around, people think they can play.”

“Nick learned,” I say, finishing my beer and waving for the waitress to bring me another one. “He learned in a real public way too. We dumped him on his old lady’s lawn and she wailed loud enough for us to hear her a block away. People know better now.”

“For now,” Joker sighs, tapping his fingers on the table. “For today, they fear the club. Tomorrow, they wonder if they can do shit better.”

Pax shrugs. “We’ll keep our bats ready.”

Joker smiles, but he looks tired. “Lucky is coming home and he’s got a girl with him. I figured he’d lost his mind bringing his whore to Little Memphis, knowing Jenn’s temper. He claims the girl’s a kid, not a fuck. He’s doing her a favor. Spreading love and harmony. I guess Lucky’s gone soft in his old age.”

Yawning, I stretch my arms as high as I can to work out a kink in my back. “Aren’t we all?”

“Fuck off, gramps,” Pax says, standing up. “I’m finding a girl before the only choices are Livie and whatever the hell that thing in the corner is.”

“That’s a dude,” Joker mutters, grinning wide now. “I hear he’s got magic hands.”

Pax glares at Joker, but he isn’t going to fight the VP. Loving to break shit and cause trouble, he’ll fight with anyone. Pax even went as far as to start a grudge match with a neighborhood cat that howls in our backyard.

Yeah, Pax loves to fuck with people, but he isn’t looking to die. Despite Joker’s easy vibe, he’s killed people for less than whatever stupid thing I know Pax wants to say.

After Pax walks off to find a girl, I size up Joker. “How much blood do you think we’ll spill until Trigger’s back?”

“Rivers,” he says, running a beefy hand through his thick red hair. “If Trigger doesn’t get his heart working right or I move up a slot, we’re talking the Mississippi River of blood, Slugger.”

“Works for me,” I mutter, standing up and stretching again. “When things slide smooth for you, I get bored. Rivers of blood though will mean I keep busy.”

Shay

Trucker Hats and Poodle Skirts, Oh My
!

At two in the morning, we stop in a little town off the highway where Lucky gets a room with two beds. He never makes a move for me and I sleep pretty well for being in a strange room with a strange man. I don’t dream. I sleep guilt-free. The feeling doesn’t last.

Lucky sits inside a small Denny’s while I call my mom. She isn’t really awake and doesn’t understand why I’m not home. Is Lucky my boyfriend? Are we coming back? Will he be moving into the apartment? This last question tells me she isn’t thinking straight. Our two bedroom apartment barely fits the four of us.

Donny Junior talks to me next while Mom makes coffee. He understands better and I know he’s scared. Our mom is a gentle woman, but she sucks at parent stuff. Homework, permission slips, clean clothes, bedtimes were things that didn’t interest her. She’s never gotten up in time to take Donny or Devin to their first days of school. I’ve walked them to school and was there to pick them up. Always reliable, I’d ditched them on a whim.

After hanging up¸ I return to the restaurant where Lucky waits. He doesn’t mention my red, wet eyes. He doesn’t say anything until our food arrives and he’s dumped half a ketchup bottle on his eggs and hash browns.

“I was a geeky kid,” he says in a rough morning voice. “Scrawny as fuck. I got my ass kicked a few times, but life ain’t a Stephen King book where the bullies hunt you down and knife you and shit. I was just ignored. Even the ugly girls didn’t want to date a guy like me. They’d rather drool over the jocks who don’t want them.”

Blowing on my coffee, I focus on Lucky’s voice. Even calming, I’m haunted by Mom’s confusion and Donny’s fear.

“I didn’t get laid until I was nineteen. My first time was a pity fuck too. You know why I’m telling you this?”

When I shake my head, Lucky gives me a little grin. “One day, I left my shitty hometown and visited a friend in Blairsville. She was a girl from high school and wanted cheap labor fixing up her house. I had nothing going on in Hawthorne and I needed a change. Hell, if I didn’t get one too.”

Lucky pauses to eat a few mouthfuls of eggs and hash browns. “I bulked up those months working on her place. Less geeky kid, I suddenly had people paying me attention. After I fixed up the girl’s place, I decided to stay in town. Started working at a gas station for extra cash.”

Lucky pauses to get the waitress to refill his coffee cup.

“One night, some punk ass kids decided to play thugs with a chick pumping gas. They were mouthing off, talking about fucking her real nice and taking turns. She was rattled mostly because she was preggo and ready to pop. The kids weren’t for real, but she was scared. I figured I outta make them scared too. I took a broom I was using to sweep up and cracked one of the shits over the head. His friends panicked then attacked me because they were too stupid to think straight. I hit them too. Nothing serious. Broken teeth, black eyes, bruised egos mainly. Anyway, they ran off and the chick finally found what she’s looking for in her purse. It wasn’t a phone, but a gun. She told me thanks, but to back the fuck off. I did what she said since I don’t hit ladies, even when they’re not carrying heat. She drove off and I didn’t think anything of it. The station owner didn’t care about me scaring some shit kids and the kids weren’t telling their parents. Naw, I didn’t think anything of it until the lady’s old man showed up.”

Lucky drinks his coffee while I poke at my food, eating without enjoying it.

“Turned out she was married to Joker Curran and he just happened to be the VP of the Little Memphis Motorcycle Club. He wanted to thank me. He also wanted to make me happy. A guy like Joker treats his friends well and leaves his enemies in those shallow graves you were worried about. After awhile, I’m Joker’s friend and a member of the club.”

Lucky finishes his meal then leans back and grins at me. “You still don’t know why I’m telling you this, do you, kid?”

“To impress me?”

Lucky laughs hard like I’m hilarious. “What do I care about impressing a little girl I ain’t going to fuck?”

When I shrug, Lucky’s smile softens. “Because in Hawthorne, you’re a stripper and you’ve got a shitty mom and two little brothers expecting you to save them. Back there, you are Shay with a set of problems. In Blairsville, you can be anyone you fucking want to be. You can take the problems with you or be a new chick with new problems. You have a choice despite what your sad little girl feelings tell you. When you get to town, you can be a scrawny stripper bitch, flashing your titties to solve your problems. Or you can do something else. I don’t know you or what you want. I do know if a stupid guy like me can get a new start, you can do.”

“Is that why they call you Lucky?” I ask, finishing my food because he’s clearly ready to go.

“No,” he mutters, throwing a twenty on the table. “I go to the casinos and never lose at cards. You know why?”

Shoving the last bites in my mouth, I shake my head.

“Because I don’t like cards. Don’t need them. I make money and walk away. Not addictive for me, so I never stay past my winning streak. That ain’t luck. It’s called common sense, but Lucky makes a better name, right?”

We finish at Denny’s then stop by a gas station to fill up his Harley. Lucky also wants cigarettes and a Mountain Dew. I’m more interested in the trucker hats on the top of the display case. Next, I grab a guy’s flannel shirt from a rack. Seventeen dollars later, I’m no longer stripper Shay from Hawthorne. I’m now a tough girl. At the very least, I don’t look nearly as sexy.

Climbing on behind Lucky, I decide the new Shay won’t play by her family’s rules. Stupid choices, easy fun, no self-control are things of the past. Taking a crazy leap might have gotten me here, but I’m playing shit smarter in the future.

Six hours later, I arrive in Blairsville. Dubbed Little Memphis by the locals, the city doesn’t look rough in the bright light of day. Doesn’t look like much of anything really.

Lucky told me earlier he found me a place to stay. The Craftsman-style house belongs to the woman he helped at the gas station. Darby Curran sizes me up, making me feel like trash. Lucky warns me that Darby isn’t like anyone I’ll ever meet. He’s right, but I don’t expect what awaits me.

Wearing a black poodle shirt and pink sweater, Darby is decked out like a reject from
Happy Days
. She even sports cat eye glasses and bright red lips. She isn’t an old lady though. I’d guess she’s in her late thirties. Black hair curled perfectly and blue eyes made up like an old movie star, Darby is the epitome of glamour. Me, not so much.

“You two fuck?” she asks, tapping her foot.

I shake my head while Lucky messes with his phone. He glances up at Darby and sighs.

“Like I said when I called earlier, I met a kid who needed to bail from Hawthorne. This is the kid.”

“She’s not a kid, Lucky. I can’t have your slut on the side living here. Jenn’ll burn my place to the ground.”

“No, she won’t,” Lucky says, sliding his phone into a back pocket. “If I’m lying about why I brought Shay here, Jenn will shoot me in the kneecap then run over Shay with a car. You’ll be fine.”

“Well in that case, you’re welcome for my gracious nature. Now go away, so I can get to know my new tenant.”

Lucky gives me a fatherly nod. At least, I guess that’s how dads nod. Once his Harley roars away, I stand alone with Darby.

“Where’s your stuff?” she asks.

“I didn’t bring any.”

Clearly suspicious, Darby sizes me up. “Did you need to leave town in a hurry?”

“My mom pissed me off and I wanted a fresh start.”

The words make sense in my head. Out loud, I hear their stupidity. I don’t even own a pair of clean panties.

“Didn’t you have a special thing you left behind? A journal or something?”

“No. Just my little brothers.”

I don’t know what Darby sees on my face, but her expression softens. She’s stunning now and I feel like a dirty nothing next to her.

“Starting over is a choice most people can’t make. They stay where they’re at, but not because they’re happy or trapped. They just can’t make a move. You did choose, so you’re a step ahead.”

I give her a tired smile. “I’m starting to think I messed up.”

“You’re here now. Do you want to run home or stick it out?”

Thinking about all the nights I worked for money my mom pissed away on a loser, I remember Hawthorne as an ugly place. Maybe a better life awaits me here in Little Memphis.

“I’ll stick it out.”

Darby nods. “First, I’ll show you around the house and talk about my expectations. Second, I’ll drive you to Wal-Mart and front you the money to buy essentials like tooth paste.”

Covering my mouth, I suspect I’m a gross sight. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”

“Oh, I know you will. My ex-husband once made a guy bleed over twenty bucks. He might be sharing another woman’s bed, but I’m still family. If you refuse to do what you say, he has ways to make you change your mind.”

Staring at Darby who stares back, I can’t think of how to respond.

“You look really pretty when you threaten people,” I finally blurt out.

Darby smiles. “I am very vain.”

“I don’t want to be pretty,” I add. “I don’t want to be seen as a sexy person.”

“One day, you’ll grow up enough to realize that it doesn’t matter what other people see in you,” Darby says, taking my elbow and directing me towards the kitchen. “I used to dress like the other old ladies in the club. Boobs out. Tight jeans. They were happy looking like that. I never was. Now, I do what I want. As long as I purr when I see my reflection, other people’s reactions don’t mean shit.”

Darby shows me the small kitchen. Everything looks new and I’ve never seen butcher block countertops before. Upstairs are two small empty bedrooms. A third bedroom is off-limits.

“It was my son’s room,” Darby explains. “He died a few years back, but I keep the room the way he left it. If you mess it up, I’ll cut you.”

Darby’s threats make me smile since she dresses like a 1950’s housewife, yet cusses like a trucker. She’s what my mom might have been if she hadn’t met Donnie. With Mom, I sometimes saw hints of the willful wild girl I heard stories about. These days, Lydie Thompson is in a downward spiral. I cut her loose, but my brothers are falling with her.

“What was your son’s name?” I ask as she opens the door to my room.

“Milo Junior, after his dad. We call him MJ.”

Walking into the small, clean room with crisp white curtains and bedding, I smile at the soft pink flowered wallpaper. This is the prettiest room I’ve ever stayed in and I’m realizing life is different now. Only time will answer whether
different
turns out to be a good or bad thing.