The Big Ugly (4 page)

I padded back to my room. Most of my clothes were a little too big. None of my other bras fit right, so I put on a blue sports bra. I dug out a T-shirt and a pair of jeans and cinched them with a belt.

By the time I came downstairs, the house was starting to wake up. Nate shuffled out in slippers and a robe. He gave me a drowsy wave, hit the ON button for the coffee maker and shuffled back to his bedroom.

Bethany came out as bright as the morning sun, wearing eyeglasses and a robe, but already smiling.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Okay," I lied.

She nodded. Her smile dropped, replaced by pursed lips and a furrowed brow. I was pretty sure I knew what was coming next. "I don't think we heard you come in last night."

That last sentence was two words too long to be innocent.

I like Bethany. Always have. She's good people. But she's as much a mixed bag as the rest of us, I guess.

"I didn't come in last night. I'm sorry I didn't call, but it was late and I didn't want to wake you guys."

"Oh," she replied while turning her back to me and opening a cabinet. She took down two coffee cups. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure."

She took down a third cup and turned around. Her mouth worried with some words before she could bring herself to say, "You stayed with someone?"

"I met a guy at a bar," I said. "I slept with him. Is there anything else you want to ask me about what I did last night?"

She shook her head. "No. No. I just don't … I hope it wasn't because of what I said."

"No. It was because I needed to get laid. You'll excuse my bluntness, I hope."

Her eyes widened and she made a funny face—her lips pulled back and showed all her teeth. "Holy Toledo, Ellie." Then she said in a high whisper, "You are
so bad
!"

A year in Eastgate for assault and battery, and Bethany thought I was so bad for getting a piece of ass. I kind of loved her for it.

After breakfast, I told Nate I needed to go downtown around noon to look into some job opportunities.

"Oh, yeah?" he said.

"Yeah, some stuff my PO has arranged."

"What kind of stuff?"

I waved that away. "Just some stuff … I don't know the details yet. I'll need to take the Escort."

"Yeah, of course. I got the truck. Bethany's got the Saturn."

Nate and I walked over to the shop to work.

There wasn't actually much for me to do, though. Mostly, I hung out and talked to Nate all morning. It was fun, of course, but I felt bad that he was paying me to stand around.

After lunch, I got changed and took the car. As I drove away, I couldn't have said why I hadn't told Nate about the job for Hamill. It wasn't like I thought it would lead anywhere. Some religious zealot wanted to find Alexis. If he was going to throw away his money, I might as well be the one there to catch it. I wasn't going to argue him out of trying to find her. Hell, maybe he could do her some good. But for some reason, I didn't want Nate, or anyone else for that matter, to know about it. Maybe I'd spent too long without any secrets at all—living for thirteen months in a place where my every move was monitored—but I didn't want to share this piece of information with anyone just yet.

It was probably nothing. But, for the time being, I was the only one who knew about it. No harm in having a secret about nothing.

I drove out to the Summit Hotel and Resort in the mountains just north of town. The last time I'd talked to her at Eastgate, Alexis had told me that she had an ex-boyfriend named Mule who worked there as a concierge.

"Why do they call him Mule?" I asked.

"'Cause he used to smuggle drugs up from Mexico," she explained. "And he has a huge dick."

Drug dealers have been known to lose day jobs before, but I figured if he was still there he might have had some kind of contact with Alexis.

As I headed up into the mountains, something in my chest loosened. I've never been the outdoorsy type, never been a nature lover at all, but as Osotouy City released its hold on me building by building, the countryside seemed to open up and welcome me. I kept the windows down and smelled the pines on the lazy mountain air.

When the last signs of the city disappeared behind me, I had a rush as if I'd broken away in an escape. My palms against the steering wheel were as slick as a rookie getaway driver's.

It's an odd thing, being released from lock up after a year. When your back is against the wall, you get used to the wall. At least you know there's no one behind you. Now, I kept checking the rearview mirror.

The Summit Hotel was beautiful. Built in the twenties when Fettle Springs was a booming resort town for bootleggers and various other out-of-state swells who came down for the waters, it sat on the highest point in town and looked out over Quapaw Valley. The historical marker at the end of the drive announced that the Summit Hotel was "a five-story, 350-room Spanish Renaissance masterpiece." I'm not sure what the Spanish Renaissance part means, but the place looked like a masterpiece. Divided into three sections, with the highest section in the middle, it hugged the side of a mountain, with a long veranda running along the back so you could sit there in the evenings and watch the sun go down over the valley. I had sat there once, holding hands with a man as the sun disappeared into the trees, but that seemed like a long time ago.

I parked in the visitor parking and walked up to the front. The entryway was two stories high, and when I walked in I could see hotel guests in white terrycloth robes walking to the spa on the second floor. The whole place smelled like a vacation.

At the front desk, a pretty girl with long black hair, and a green tattoo peeking out from the cuff of her white dress shirt, greeted me with a smile. "Hello. Checking in?"

"I'm looking for someone, actually," I said. "Mule?"

Her professional politeness dropped, and she grinned at me like she knew one of my secrets. "Yeah." She jerked her head over her shoulder. "In the bar."

I followed the signs to the restaurant. In between lunch and dinner, it was empty and the lights were turned down. Mule was the only one there.

Alexis had always had an air of desperation, and the gangly, shaggy-haired kid at the bar looked every bit like the kind of sleazeball she might hook up with. He was sitting at the bar like a customer, but there was no bartender around. On the bar at his elbow was a cold Stella, but he didn't touch it. He was reading a book, and he didn't raise his head when he said, "Afternoon, ma'am. Can I help you find something?"

Every hotel has a Mule. The bellboy or bartender or desk clerk who can get you any kind of alcohol at four in the morning, or weed or hookers or whatever else you're willing to pay for. I knew at first glance who I was dealing with now. The girl at the desk probably thought I was a hooker.

I sat down on the stool next to him. I said, "Maybe. I'm trying to find a friend of mine."

Mule slowly roused his long face and droopy lips. His thick, smudged glasses slid to the end of his greasy nose, and rather than adjust them he just tilted his head back and looked down at me.

I waited for him to answer, and he took his time considering what I said. Finally he closed his book and asked, "Who?"

"Alexis."

"Alexis?"

"Yeah."

He licked his lips with a pale tongue.

"Well," he said.

"Well what?"

"Well alright, you're looking for Alexis. Well alright, I know her."

"She and I were at Eastgate together," I explained. "I just got out, and I thought I'd look her up."

"Uh huh."

"Yeah. And she told me about you, so I thought you'd be the person to ask."

His glasses glided to the end of his nose again, so he tipped his head back a little and peered down at me.

I asked, "So, can you help me find her? You know where she is?"

"No."

"Can you hazard a guess?"

He smacked his lips. "Alexis is about as stable as the God particle. There's no telling how she'll feel, day to day. She changes with the weather. So, no, I can't even guess."

"Oh."

"I haven't seen her in a while. She just bolted. Took her kid and ran away one day."

"Was that when she joined the church?"

"The what?"

"She got religion, didn't she? Someone told me she got into some kind of Christian drug rehabilitation program."

"I never heard anything about that."

"When was the last time you talked to her?"

"I don't know. A few months ago."

"Maybe she changed over the last few months."

He made a face like my words had irritated his skin. "Nah, people don't change. Not really."

I waited.

He said, "Alexis was never interested in anything like that."

"Maybe someone told me wrong," I said.

"Maybe."

"Mind if I ask a personal question?"

"I guess not."

"You the father of her kid?"

He laughed—actually laughed out loud—at that idea. "Uh, no," he said, amused and satisfied, in equal measure, by his own reaction.

"Do you know who Kaylee's father is?"

"Yeah, a pair of balls and a bottle of whiskey."

"Anything more specific?"

For the first time, Mule seemed interested in our conversation. "Oh, he's a knuckle-dragging troglodyte named Dale Crittenberger. Redneck good ole boy. He forgot to pull out one Saturday night and wound up with a kid. Fucking loser. He tried to do the good thing, you know. Married Alexis. She basically made him marry her. That lasted ten fucking seconds. He ran off. Went to Alaska. I mean he went all the way to Alaska to get away, you know what I mean? I doubt Alexis'll ever see ole Dale again. All she's got to remember him by is a little girl who looks just like him. Poor thing."

"I never met the kid," I said.

He shrugged. "She doesn't say much. Built like a mud fence. Mostly, she's just a kid."

I said, "You don't have any idea where Alexis might have taken her? Maybe somewhere the kid could be comfortable, a better environment."

"Alexis doesn't think about things like that."

"You saying she's a bad mother?"

"Depends on what you mean by 'bad.' She's not mean. She's not a piece of shit like my mother was. But she doesn't exactly stop to consider what may or may not constitute a stable environment for a child."

"Like shacking up with a drug dealer."

Mule's droopy lips pulled into a sloppy smile. "Hey, I'm a fucking prince compared to some of the guys she's been with. And I'll tell you something," he said. "There's got to be another guy."

"What do you mean?"

"She left me, right? Well, if you know Alexis then you know there's no way she left me to strike out on her own. There had to be another guy waiting for her."

"But no idea who that would be?"

He smacked his lips. "You know, for someone who's just trying to look up an old friend, you seem awful adamant."

"Maybe I'm just tenacious. Or maybe I'm just naturally nosy."

"Maybe, but this is getting to be a pattern—people showing up out of the blue looking for Alexis." He searched my expression. "She owe you money or something?"

"Other people have been looking for her?"

"Well, you're the first person to show up here, but some guys came around my apartment right after she split."

"Who?"

"Just some guys."

"Get any names?"

"No. I didn't care. I didn't get your name, either, for that exact same reason."

"What'd they look like?"

"Just looked like some guys."

"That's a big help."

He lowered his head and pushed up his glasses with a thumb. He grinned a little. "Hey, I live to serve."

I pulled the pen and a blank ticket from a server's book lying on the bar and wrote my number on the back. "Do me a favor. If you do hear from her, tell her Ellie Bennett wants to talk to her."

He took the paper and read it and pushed his glasses back up his oily nose.

And that was what passed for a farewell from Mule. I turned and walked out of the restaurant.

As I was leaving, I decided to go take in the view from the veranda. As long as I'd made the trip.

I walked out through some opened French doors and the leafy green valley spread out as far as I could see. In another few weeks, it would turn into a quilt of reds and browns and oranges and yellows. I stood at the railing for a moment. Its vastness was scary—but the good kind of scary.

The last time I'd been out here was with Frank Morley. Kitty had been working a double shift that weekend, so Frank and I drove out to stay at the Summit. We got one of the good rooms, with a double door terrace that gazed out on forever, and we fucked ourselves into exhaustion and then ate and drank ourselves into a stupor. I could remember lying there in his arms, staring out the open doors, staring at the stars high above the darkened valley, and wondering why I deserved to be so goddamn happy.

Kitty had made me pay for that happiness, made me pay for it and then some.

In Eastgate, sometimes I'd catch her watching me. I'd be in the yard, milling around or playing basketball, and I'd look up and there was Kitty. Just watching, a little smile on her lips.

My first night there, she'd come to my dormitory. I hadn't seen her since my legal problems had started. She hadn't come to the trial. She hadn't called. She and Frank had both simply disappeared from my life, like most of the other respectable people I'd known.

That first night in, though, I was standing by my bunk, dressed in prison gray, and she walked over and stood across the bed from me.

All of the other broads in my section—Alexis, Effervescence Jackson and the rest of them— kept their distance. They didn't want to see or hear anything.

Kitty stood there in her pressed gray and blue uniform, thick arms crossed over her doughy torso. As usual, her lips didn't quite close over her teeth. Her tight little bun of brown hair tilted back as she stared down her nose at me. "Is that bed big enough?"

"It ought to do."

"I know you're used to beds that comfortably fit two."