Pistol Fanny's Hank & Delilah (52 page)

D
elilah stood at the bottom of Wild Thang, looking up at Hank, who was holding a hand out to her. Her palms were sweaty from the hot weather, her clothes clinging to her. She felt a little weak. Her heart raced and her hands trembled. She always felt this way when she came here. It had only been a couple of times, and it was getting easier with each visit, but it was still hard for her.

Rosie started to cry. She could separate their cries easily. Rosie was loud and boisterous while Huckleberry squeaked, usually for no reason, and always wanted to be held. He was a little ham. Delilah climbed up then, Pistol side rearing her head, giving her the push she needed.

Hank crawled on his knees to Rosie and took her out of her seat. He rocked her against him until she settled. Delilah sat next to them, running one hand through Huck’s hair while she stared at the wall. It was filled now with pictures. The three tickets were tacked around a picture of Paulie. She ran her other hand over his face.

Dear Lord, how she wished Paulie could be here to see all of this. He would have been so proud of her. He would have loved to hear her speak her words and hold her children. Even the man next to her who howled at the moon and swore she hung it in his sky. He would have been proud of Hank, all right.

She wiped away tears as she looked out of the small window. The first time Delilah had come, even though Hank hadn’t wanted to, she made Hank go over what happened again. She made him point out the spot Paulie was killed and where he took his last breath. She had to know. Her family had to know.

And sometimes she stared down at the spot. She wished she could have been there to hold his hand. Her heart cracked a little deeper with the thought. Hank handed her Huck without a word. He just let her rock him and let her be for a short time.

Not long after, Pepsi’s head popped up. She wanted to take Huck & Rosie with her. They were all having a picnic, and Lilly Beth and June-bug were fighting over who would take them home. Pepsi outsmarted them all by grabbing the babies before the two women knew they were gone. Pepsi laughed all the way to the car, Rotunda helping her.

Hank and Delilah sat in the tree house alone together. Delilah laughed when Hank told her he had never brought a girl up there. None of the boys had. It was a pact. He felt scandalous.

He scooted over to the radio and pressed play. REO Speedwagon started to serenade them.

“Is this what you boys used to do? Listen to this…”

“And eat Moon Pies and drink RC Colas. We used to feed Fat Squirrel and take turns with our blow up guitar. We’d talk about fast cars and girls. I was in love once, with two girls who didn’t like me because I didn’t have money to buy them nachos.”

Delilah threw her head back and laughed. “You never bought me nachos. I’m not sure I love you either, baby.”

“I never bought you nachos because I saved all my money to buy you the caviar of our world. Hamburger, fries, and a Big Gulp. Only the best for you, my darlin’.” Hank smiled.

“Dear Lord,” Delilah breathed.

Hank crawled toward her, until they were nose to nose. He pushed against her until she was lying on the floor and he was over her.

“I’ve always dreamed of having a girl up here. I’m glad it’s you, darlin’.”

Delilah put her hands under Hank’s shirt, running her fingertips along his ribs, feeling her way down. “You think you would’ve liked me, when we were kids?”

Hank kissed her lips, moving his against hers in slow motion. “I wouldn’t have been able to stay away from you. I would have been out here with my camping gear, underneath the tree. You were prime time compared to the basic channels around here. You still are. Prime time no matter where you are in the world. Do you think you would’ve liked me?”

“Probably not. I didn’t think you could keep a secret. I didn’t want to share this place with you.”

“
Mmmhmm
.” Hank moved down to her neck. “I would’ve told all the boys you were my girlfriend. I would have licked you like the treats in school so no one would come near you.”

“What do you mean?”

“In school, we used to get these sweets with our lunches. Kids would try to steal them from each other. So you’d lick them so nobody wanted to touch them. You would’ve been my treat. Then I would have ruined your taste in music, playing all those REO Speedwagon and Redbone songs. I would have left you Moon Pies and RC Colas until you agreed to take a walk in the woods with me. I would have pestered you for the rest of your life, until you agreed that you loved me too.”

“I’m glad it was you here, Hank. Real glad.”

“Me too, darlin’, me too.”

Delilah heard footsteps approaching. Thirteen in total. Moving slowly toward them. Branches and leaves cracked, hushed laughter followed and echoed. She could hear bottles barely clanking into each other. Hank didn’t hear a thing, she knew. He was too busy using his tongue to lay claim to her body. Delilah waited, not tensing, but anticipating—she knew what was coming.

The top of Dylan’s head appeared and he ticked his mouth.

“I’m so ashamed of you, Hank Huckleberry Rivers. You have abused the pact. You are a traitor if I ever met one. No nookie in the man shack. Rules are rules, padnah. But before we get to your punishment, our lovely Pistollette has some skills to show off.”

Hank let his body fall on top of Delilah’s and he laughed on her lips. He rolled over and helped her up to her knees. Dylan went down first and they followed behind him.

A group had formed, Delilah’s sisters, Perkie and Curly’s girlfriend, along with the guys. There were new faces in this crowd.

Hank elbowed Dylan.

“So what if I invited a few people for the show? You recognize Cassie and Leslie don’t you? They tagged along with their husbands to watch your wife!” He laughed. Then he announced to the group to stand in front of Delilah. They lined up, like they were ready to pay and get a ticket for a spectacular show. The men were eager, the women a little uneasy, especially around Delilah’s sisters.

Dylan stood next to Hank, both standing behind Delilah. Hank smiled real big, watching Delilah pull down the hem of her dress. She took the guns out of her holsters that Jo handed her. Dylan was dying to know just how fast she was. They would need an electronic timer to even try. But she wouldn’t allow it.

“Never let ’em put a time on you,” Uncle Hennessey always said. It was something Wild Wyatt had taught him. “If you allow them to put those moments on you, time knows how quick you are with the draw. And time never forgets. It steals your magic and takes back its seconds.” Delilah would never allow anyone to time her Pistollette.

Once everyone was deemed clean, Dylan grabbed the plate and the dog bowl from the ground. He handed the plate to Hank first. Delilah’s back was still turned to her husband, her face to the crowd.

“Are you ready, darlin’?” Hank smirked.

“Just throw the plate, darlin’,” Delilah said sarcastically.

Hank nudged Dylan. “This is my favorite part.
Eweee
.”

Hank acted like he was going to throw the plate in the air. Instead he held his arm out, dropping the plate to the ground. She heard him move. In what seemed like less than a half a second later, Delilah had turned, pulled the trigger and exploded that plate into nothing but shards.

He did the same thing with the tin dog bowl, her timing impeccable, her movement’s swift like a ghost. She pierced the bowl straight through the middle. She made the bull’s eye. She made him do it again, two targets next time. She was just as quick and precise. Then Hank and Dylan threw two tins cans in the air at the same time. She shot them each seven times before they hit the ground. She was so accurate she shot the heart out of a poker card.

If the law had known her capabilities, they would have taken her. Hands down she was the best unknown shooter in the world. Every one of those girls was talented. And they knew it. Even Hank was starting to learn. Rotunda taught him how to drive a getaway car, and Slide Clyde was showing him the tricks he had up his sleeve.

“Now,
that’s
how it’s done, fellas,” Dylan said, thanking the crowd and telling them they had to go now.

The sun started to disappear in the sky, a halo of colors firing up the celestial sphere before they melted softly into the horizon, the relentless heat giving way to a sultry southern night. Maybe a cool breeze would blow if they were lucky.

Hank took Delilah’s hand as they climbed back in the tree house, claiming the old worn-out beanbag chair before anyone else could. Dylan came in after, his wife Perkie behind him, Curly and his girl, Jo, Melody and Doc Houston, Gillian smoking her electronic cigarette, Stroke, Tommy and Jesse, and then Rotunda. Hazel was missing, but Delilah knew where she was. She could hear her creeping around the tree house.

All those bodies crammed into the small space, like termites in a wooden hole. In the center of them all was a bunch of cool root beers and warm Moon Pies.

Dylan pointed an accusing finger at Hank. “You’re going first. No one drinks until after the root beer has taken affect. That’s your punishment for lovin’ on your wife and breaking the rules. I didn’t forget. We get to watch you make a fool of yourself and then we forget!”

Hank sat up and tried to slap Dylan’s head. Dylan dodged and then fast-forwarded the tape until Redbone came on. Gillian reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. Jo took out a small camera.

“What’s all that for?” Jesse said, and it was completely wheeze free.

“Well,” Gillian said, smiling like a mischievous cat, “a little birdie told us the last time you guys tried this, things went real bad. We’re here to rectify the situation.”

“Oh, no!” Jesse almost lost his breath. He reached for the root beer and Dylan slapped his hand.

“Oh, yes!” they all screamed.

“Don’t be a chicken, Wheezy,” Jo said with a taunting edge to her voice. “We’re all here to protect you, if you need it. Let’s hope you do.” She winked.

“I’m not doing it!” Jesse screamed. “So much trouble last time…so much damn trouble…” he started to mumble over and over.

Gillian lit the cigarette and Jo prepared the camera. Finally, after a lot of coaxing, Jesse took the cigarette and took a long drag. Everyone screamed “
hunka, hunka, burnin’
love
” three times, and a cloud of smoke came out of Jesse’s mouth. He coughed as it did, and it drifted straight for the window.

Jo held the camera up, and Jesse’s neck crept toward the window, waiting, watching.

“BOO!” Hazel screamed, her face appearing out of the smoke.

Jesse froze, his face going pale, before he wheezed one long time, for about a minute, and then he passed out. Hazel toppled inside the window, landing on bodies. Her laughter, along with everyone else’s, was reckless. Melody checked Jesse and said he wasn’t even passed out. He was just scared. They left him be until he recovered from the fright.

Delilah watched as Hank laughed just as reckless as the rest of them. This was the ending she wanted for him. He was rediscovering his youth. They both were. All those girls and boys acting like adolescents, sitting high in a tree house that was somehow staying upright, high fiving at not so funny jokes, eating Moon Pies. And as Hank was a man of his word, he drank Spell’s root beer first. He was busted. He did the time for the crime. His crime: love in the first degree. Hank never stood a chance.

When the hot sun exploded in the sky the next morning, the air sticky as that Tupelo honey, there was nothing but a bunch of bodies lying inside the ole tree house, and alive was the only thing any of them felt. Someone screamed, “Never again!” and they all replied, “Agreed!” Someone mentioned breakfast and batting cages. “Agreed,” they all went again.

They played one more song, “Stuck On You,” while the girls were accepted into the man club. The song came to an end and they all went “
Woo… hoo. Thank God
!” The group came together, wiggling their fingers and sighing in perfect harmony.

One more day just wasn’t good enough anymore. Not when life was so damn delicious. Nothing would do but molasses time creeping up that big ole mountain that leads straight to Heaven Almighty.

R
osie Rivers sat behind the wheel of her car. She leaned over the steering wheel, staring dreamily through the windshield at the uplifted hood.

Rosie and her twin brother, Huck, had been accepted into UCLA, and their Daddy wanted to check the oil for the tenth time before they headed out. Huck was out there with him, not as excited to leave as she was. She could see it all in front of her. All those stretching roads, the champagne shores rolling in to greet their warm toes. She could feel the warmth of the days, the cool of the evenings, smell that salty mountain air.

What she added it up to be: one plus one, somehow equaling her freedom.

She shook her head when she thought about her parents. She wouldn’t miss the longing stares, the throwing of plates or cups, or other miscellaneous items when the stare lingered. She laughed to herself when she thought of them in their old ages—one with a walker and the other one with a cane, and then the air crackling before things went flying. Then one of them would break a hip, or something embarrassing, because they still couldn’t keep their hands off each other.