Pistol Fanny's Hank & Delilah (17 page)

Delilah stopped when they were in the middle of the parking lot.

“Hank, how come you keep looking over your shoulder?”

“This is a dark place. Anything can happen.”

“We have Freud. He’ll tell me if there’s anyone around we can’t see. And look.” She pointed behind them. “Cash and Leroy are watching.”

“I have to tell you something, Delilah.” Hank looked around again. “I might be in some trouble. It’s nothing that I did. Something happened a long time ago and I wasn’t supposed to be there. Maybe I should just stay here.”

She wiped the sweat from his brow. “Trouble seems to find you, doesn’t it, Hank? If you’re in trouble, it’s best if we stay together. Now, let’s see how well you know me. Which one’s my car? Let’s see if
the feeling
is always spot on like you claim it is.”

“What?”

“You talk in your sleep. You were dreaming, I guess. You were talking to me and you said
the feeling—
” she sounded real James Brown like “—never steers you wrong. I want to see if
this feeling
is right.”

Freud growled and hit her with his paw.

“That’s right, Freud.” Hank laughed. “A lady would never mention that. It’s pretty rude. I would never expect that from a grits.”

“Just ’cause I was a girl raised in the south doesn’t mean I don’t have a few wicked ways.”

“Heaven Almighty, what a beautiful mess I’m in.” Hank shook his head.

All right, he had to find her car. He looked around the lot. Hennessey’s truck was out. So was Jo’s Barracuda. That only left the Firebird, the pink Cadillac, the Lincoln, the Porsche, the AC Cobra or the funeral car—the black Cadillac.

The firebird wasn’t her. It was a bit mischievous, but too forward. The pink Cadillac was too bubble gum. Delilah was feminine, but like a snow leopard was. The Lincoln, too, was out. He didn’t see her as a pearl, more like a sharp-edged diamond. He prayed it wasn’t the funeral car. It wasn’t the Cobra, either. He just had
the feeling
.

It had to be the Porsche. It was her—sleek and small, but you wouldn’t push it because you knew it could do damage. It was like the Jimson weed of the car world.

Hank walked over to the Porsche and laid his hand on the door. Delilah walked right past him, sliding easily into the driver’s seat.

“You know me too well already. Dear Lord.”

Hank laughed and was about to climb in when Freud growled at him. He wanted Hank to get in first it seemed, taking the ribbed seat in the very back. It was just big enough for Freud himself.

“Freud,” Delilah reprimanded. “That’s not polite. We have a guest. He gets the big seat.”

Freud shook his head and hopped in. He groaned as he plopped down.

The lights to the Cobra turned on, two spotlights in the darkened parking lot, and the engine roared. Melody was behind the wheel, her face pale in the deep darkness. Hank couldn’t keep up anymore. They were here and then there, they were everywhere. The window came down. Melody’s laughter echoed before she revved the engine.

“Do yourself a favor, darlin’,” she yelled out of the window. “Get rid of that foreign piece of pigeon shit and buy yourself an American-made car. Then maybe you can keep up. The fastest girl in town?” She howled with laughter as she sped out of the parking lot, tires squealing against the pavement, smoke rising from burnt rubber like fog.

Delilah started the car and put it in gear, following in her sister’s tracks. She smiled a wicked little smile. “She’d have to get up mighty early in the mornin’ before she ever caught me.”

Hank believed it.

The small car sped down the highway, burning miles like it was setting the road on fire. Delilah asked Hank to hand her the cinnamon candies she kept in the car to keep her awake. She yelled for Freud to find gold, and the next thing Hank knew, Freud dropped a tape in her hands. She wiped it off and stuck it in the music player.

“Sing with me, Hank. I’ll sing the lady’s part. Freud can give us some background vocals.” Delilah turned the music up.

“Do you always listen to good ole cheddar country music?”

“I love it! I love the old-time sound… ole Alabama, the works. This was one of my Mama’s favorite songs—‘Louisiana woman, Mississippi man.’ She used to make me take Conway’s part, though.” Delilah laughed, but her eyes glossed a little.

Hank sang with her after that. And like he had dreamed, they made a beautiful duo, or trio. Even Freud was smoking his parts. They were taking this show on the road. It could be
Delilah & Hank, plus Freud, the gentleman dog
. It just seemed to fit. Everything about them seemed to fit.

“Next time around, I’m going to have to change the lyrics,” Hank said, still smiling after the impromptu music session. “It’ll have to be ‘Tennessee woman, Mississippi man.’”

“I’m not from Tennessee. I just moved there a while back, when Aunt Katherine and Uncle Hennessey did. Uncle Hennessey is a born and raised Tennessean.”

“Where are you from then?”

“Louisiana.” She peeked at Hank from the corner of her eye.

“How come you never told me that?”

“You never asked.”

She had him there. There were a lot of things he hadn’t asked her. He wanted to know more about her, everything about her, but what if he went too far? What if he asked her something that was too close to the burning question? Would she blow up? He wasn’t afraid of her, not at all. He was more afraid of losing her. And if that meant treading lightly, until she relented and let him in, he’d wait. He would wait forever.

“Little Sister” started to play and she quickly skipped it. In fact, she skipped it so quickly, it actually screeched before the next song started to play.

“You got something against ‘Little Sister?’” Hank took a peek in the rear-view mirror. He had a strong inkling that the Ford behind was trailing them. “Why do they call you that?”

Delilah’s eyes were dreamy again. My, how her eyes could shift so quickly, Hank thought. Just like the direction of the wind. She was staring out the window, lost in her whirlwind of thoughts. She leaned forward, one hand around the wheel, turning the volume down a bit.

“Hank, here’s the rules. No ‘I love you’s’ and no breaking the rule. That’s my terms. You can take ’em or leave ’em.”

Hank looked around. There was nowhere for him to go now, even if he didn’t agree. But no I love you’s? Who smelled now?

He leaned over a bit. “Careful now, Delilah. A little confidence goes a long way.” He meant to inhale her but was caught off guard by a horrific stench. It smelled like fresh manure mixed with ten-day-old pork and beans. Hank’s head was thrown back to his seat by the recklessness of it.

Delilah howled with laughter, while Hank felt like he was going to be sick. Freud covered his eyes and whined.

“It’s all right, Freud,” Delilah said to the back seat. “It was impolite, but it happens. We’ll stop soon, if you have to go.” Then she looked at Hank with a big smile on her face. “Like Uncle Hennessey always says, you should never go sniffin’ around a crawfish hole ’cause you never know when you’re going to pull back a nub!” She laughed again.

Hank looked in the rearview mirror. The Ford was still there. If she switched lanes, it would switch. It was staying close and going move for move.

“Trouble findin’ you again, Hank?”

“Well, Delilah, I don’t want you to panic, but I think we’re being followed.”

“Oh, I know we are.”

“You do? For how long?”

“Since we left the bar.”

“What are we going to do?” Hank turned his body, so he was facing behind.

“I wasn’t going to do anything, but since you’re sweatin’ so badly, I figure we better do somethin’.”

Delilah whistled. Freud pulled out a diamond-studded strap that was attached to a phone. Delilah punched in a number without even looking. After a few rings, what sounded like a young man answered, calling her Sweet Cheeks. Hank could hear him flirting over the phone.

“Listen, Joe Cracker,” Delilah said, interrupting him. “I have me a little situation out on the road. What does the weatherman say? The weather is going to be clear? Oh, that’s real good.” She told him just about their whereabouts. “All right then, I think it’s wiggle time. Uh, huh, all right then, bye, bye.” She threw the phone behind her. “Hey, Hank, you ready to haul some tail, baby?”

Delilah’s foot went heavier on the gas, giving full throttle. The Ford went heavier. They drove on for another fifteen minutes or so. They met up with six big rigs in row, all bumping steady in the slow lane. She passed the sixth one, the fifth, and then the fifth switched lanes, almost clipping them from behind. The sixth sped up, switched back into the slow lane, and side-by-side, they created a barrier in front of the Ford.

Delilah took the space between the fourth and sixth rig, deftly maneuvering the fast car until it was riding the emergency lane. The fifth rig took back its position, and the sixth moved over a bit, just a little of its wide statue creeping over the white line. Just enough to cover the tail end of the Porsche. They covered Hank and Delilah from every angle. Freud howled and slapped his ears, like this was just a good-timing party for all. Sometime later the line broke, and Delilah was back in the fast lane.

She was now trailing the trailer. She weaved in and out of traffic like a bird in the sky. She rode the Ford’s bumper so close, Hank was afraid if they stopped short, they’d be in the car with whomever it was that was following them. But Delilah was one pepper of a good driver. She was quick and able. When they wouldn’t move, Delilah flashed her lights at them. Finally, they moved it on over.

Hank could see it was two men when they were car to car. Their faces were pale white in the cover of the darkened car.

They shook their heads, probably in shock at being had by a woman.

“Uncle Hennessey always says, you should never go looking for trouble because enough of it will try to find you. Looks like those boys have the trouble following them now, ain’t that right, Hank?”

“Poor fellas.” Hank waved at those two shocked boys as she passed them with ease. “They never saw you coming, Delilah.”

Delilah threw her head back and bayed like Freud would. Hank felt damn good about that. He continued to make her laugh, all the way to Magnolia Springs. He turned the music up again and sang to her. He took the guy parts, had her take the women’s. He was feeding her all that cheese she loved. He was determined to erase those scowl lines from her face.

They finally arrived in Magnolia Springs around three a.m. The town was closed down, but from what Hank could tell, it was quaint. Right at the headwaters of the Magnolia River, it was picturesque, with its live oaks and bright azaleas lining the streets. At its center was a vintage-looking downtown.

They drove until they came to a more secluded area, where they turned down a road sort of hidden behind bushes and wild trees.

A line of grass grew straight down the middle of the road, leaving two well-worn dirt patches on either side for the tires to roll on. The car rocked a bit as Delilah sped down it. The brights were on and bugs were hypnotized by their glare. The road seemed to be around two miles long, Hank guessed, and finally he saw an opening in the forested area leading them to her home.

The property opened up. At its heart was a two-story, buttercup-yellow house with green steps that led to a white wrap-around porch. Two majestic oak trees created a leafy archway over the slanted roof. Neon-pink and red azalea bushes lined the porch and most of the yard. Ferns dangled in the breeze. The lights inside made the house seem dreamy, like the place was lit by the soft glow of candles instead of harsh electricity.

A peacock darted across the yard. Freud bayed and jumped out of the car.

“He sees a peafowl and all manners go straight out the window,” Delilah said, stepping out into the sultry night.

Hank followed and stretched. Then he turned around and took their bags, slinging them over his shoulder. Delilah met him and took his hand in hers. The screen door creaked, and a woman in a white nightgown stepped out of the shadows. Her hair was up in curlers. She was wearing slippers, and when she spotted them, she waved.

Hank waved back with his free hand. The woman met them at the steps, and when she noticed Hank, her eyes gave her away—she was shocked. Hank didn’t know why she should be, but it was still a normal reaction. Normal would be good for a while, he thought.

Delilah let Hank’s hand go and hugged the woman. They stood above him, wrapped in each other’s arms. The woman smiled at him, her teeth gleaming in the light.

“Delilah, you didn’t tell me you were bringin’ a boy home!” the lady said, pulling Delilah’s hand to her mouth, giving it a sweet kiss. “I swear to sweet Jesus above, if I didn’t believe in miracles, I’d swear I was dreamin’.”

“’Cause he ain’t no boy, Pepsi. This here’s Hank Rivers. He’s from Tupelo. Hank, this is Pepsi Shuger. And Pepsi, you ain’t dreaming. You wide awake in your curlers and slippers.”

Pepsi moved away from Delilah and hugged him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hank. A real fine pleasure.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, ma’am,” Hank said, warmed at her sincere welcome. “I’ve never met anyone named Pepsi before.”

“My mama had a real hankering for Pepsi when she was pregnant for me. She told me she drank so much of it the color dyed my skin. See. I’m the same color as Pepsi. I think she was just kiddin’ around with me, but you just never know. People were more serious back then. Hank, did your mama name you after any famous Hanks? Did she listen to a lot of Hank Williams, and when you came out, she thought, ‘Well, I listened to him enough, now I popped one out?’”

“No, ma’am, not that I’m aware of.”

“Oh, well, maybe she just favored the name Hank then.” Pepsi slapped the air as Freud went howling by. “Hank, they didn’t make you sit in the back, did they, baby? That damn dog is too spoiled. He thinks he’s human. Scares me senseless when an animal looks at you like he knows what you thinkin’ all the time. Come on, you two. Let’s get inside. The mosquita-bats are going to carry us away if we don’t. Should be the damn bird for all the south.”