Wanted (23 page)

The mother yanks her children out the way, one by the collar of his shirt. Jack sails past the group, missing them by inches. Oh my God, what have I done? I look back and see the youngest child crying, as the mother kneels to attend to him. Jack finally brakes, getting the bus under control.

I spy an empty spot over to the right, against the wall, my heart pounding out of my chest. “Park it and turn off the engine. Quick!”

The sirens are softer, farther. Please let us escape, I beg to whoever upstairs is listening. Please, please. I'll be good the rest of my life. I promise.

He pulls into the parking space and shuts off the engine, not a word spoken. I grab my purse and pull the door handle, hoping that whichever guy is behind that handsome face will follow me off the bus. Running down the steps, I yell, “Hurry! Let's go!” I leap onto the cement floor, turning around when I don't hear footsteps behind me.

“Aren't you coming?” I ask nervously, hoping that the guy I've been avoiding all morning will be the one to answer me back.

So there I was, watching Jack Daniel drive the bus like a pantywaist, when all of a sudden, flashing lights appeared in front of my eyes as bright as tractor headlights at night. For a moment, I thought they really was headlights, so I kept watching. Then I realized Chickenshit was scared again… this time of Twinkle! I seized the opportunity, pushing my soul right back into his body.

Hot damn! I knew Twinkle had some spit and fire in her, but I never thought in a million years that she'd be the one to help bring me forth. She must have figured out that I'm the guy who will protect her and who can outmaneuver any police car, not that half-wit Jack Daniel. If my pappy were here, he'd have said that a girl with that much gumption was rarer than hen's teeth and twice as valuable.

“Aren't you coming?” Twinkle stands outside the bus, her face all rumpled, like she's frightened. Even in this underground tunnel, I can see the diamond in her lip sparkle and her breasts aglow in the dim light. Sweet Jesus, she's pretty. And she has legs for days.

I go to rise up, but a leather strap tethers me to the chair. I push and pull at the silver buckle until the dang thing finally lets go. I stand, wobbly at first, but I find my balance right quick. “I'll go anywhere with you, Twinkle.”

“Oh, thank goodness it's you!” She holds a hand over her heart.

I can't help smiling. Twinkle is sweet on me, just like I suspected. Seems hard to believe I got so lucky right out of the gate, but the Lord is a kind and merciful man.

“Come on!” She waves for me to follow.

And just like that, she takes off in a mad dash, like there's something bad about to happen. I'm no fool. I ain't waiting around to take the heat. By the time I get down the steps, she's near thirty yards ahead of me, light on her feet like she's got wings instead of legs. I'm awed at the sight. Bonnie ain't never ran that fast. Not even before battery acid twisted up that leg of hers.

“Wait for me, woman!” I shout, rushing after her. I'll be damned if my lame foot is going to land me back in prison. Five steps later, I remember Jack Daniel has all his toes. My chest swells, tickled by the idea of being whole again. But Twinkle ain't waiting for me the way Bonnie would. She races ahead, like we got to catch the last train out of town. I aim to stick with her, at least until the deadline hits. And then, if we're both still around, I'll do my best to convince her to be my moll and take her with me.

Twinkle screeches, “The cops are coming. Hurry!”

Sure enough, I hear sirens not too far off in the distance, like a swarm of angry hornets. “Why dint you say so in the first place?” I get a burst of energy twice that of the sun, zigging and zagging around cars. “Why are you—”

“Shh! Come here.” She stops and hunches down behind a big silver car.

I kneel next to her, not even a foot away. Face to face with Twinkle like this, I can barely breathe. Her green eyes are the color of a Christmas pine, her hair as black as the winter wheat fields after the burn. “Why are the cops after us?”

She scrunches up her cute nose. “Does clubbing a woman over the head ring a bell?”

I think about yesterday and it don't make sense. “They's chasing after us just for that? Why, I barely hit her. Not enough to hurt her, just knock her down.” I ponder that a second. “Course, I got away with a tidy sum of money, too.” I pat my wallet and grin.

“Not to mention we just stole a bus.” She looks around, catching her breath.

“Whose fool idea was that anyway? It's akin to stealing an elephant—big, slow, and old.”

She tilts her chin down like she's annoyed with me, but I see a hint of a smirk on her lips. “Real funny.” The sound of sirens overhead makes Twinkle's face collapse. “We've got to get out of here and fast. Do you know how to hotwire a car?” She looks at me with eyes as wide as saucers, like she's afraid I'm gonna say no.

Makes me want to pull her close and tell her not to worry—that I'll take care of everything. That gives me an idea. I lift my chin and scratch my neck. “I reckon I can remember how. All's I need is one little kiss from you to start my engine first.” I grin, leaning closer, hoping she'll meet me halfway.

Instead, she backs away from me, fast. “I can't. My phobia, remember?”

This phobia of hers is making my patience fade quicker than daylight in December. Right then I decide I'm making it my mission to cure her, one kiss at a time. “I'm staying put until I get one kiss.” I fold my arms over my chest, like I aim to set here awhile. Next thing I know she catches me off-guard, planting one soft, sweet kiss on my lips.

“Okay, let's go!” she says, her voice filled with worry. “Please, Clyde!”

If we had more time, I would've wrapped my arms around her and showed her there was nothing to be afraid of, 'cept right then, the volume of sirens gets louder.

I leap to my feet and pull the handle of the silver car we've been leaning against, but the door don't budge. I look for the rubber lining so I can slide my finger under and pop the button, but there ain't one. “Hmm… I ain't familiar with this here sort of car.” I peer inside, cupping my hands to my face to block out the light. “No wonder. This one ain't got the wires poking out the bottom like it's supposed to.”

“Oh, I get it. An old car. The kind like when you were alive.”

That lights a fire under my pride. “I am alive, damn it!”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” She holds her hands up like she's surrendering. “I didn't know you were sensitive about that.”

What am I doing? Yelling at her ain't no way to woo a woman. I take a deep breath. “I guess I ain't learned how to deal with my past just yet. Now let's hunt us down a car with the wires sticking out so I can get us out of here.”

We race down the aisle, hunched over, looking left and right. All of a sudden, red and blue lights ricochet off the ceiling, not fifty yards away. We both dive behind the closest car, holding our breaths as the cop car drives slowly past us. I turn my head, looking around for a weapon in case I need one. Instead, I find something else I need—a rusty blue Ford pickup with fat tires and shiny fenders—just like ones I used to steal, only smaller, sleeker. Not in the best shape, but it don't look half bad neither. I hear the cop's tires roll over a stick about five cars up the aisle.

“They're going to find the bus any second.” Twinkle's voice gets high and whiny, like she might cry. That'll never work. Blanche nearly got us killed with her constant fretting.

“Hold it together, woman. I think I got us a ride.” I point to the truck across the aisle and two spots over.

And just like that, she goes from sad to glad. “Oh, thank God! Let's go!”

Now don't that beat all? Twinkle's beautiful, tough, and a God-fearing woman to boot. After I check to make sure the coast is clear, we scurry across the aisle, staying low. The oval sign on the truck door says
Rojas Landscaping
. Peeking under the tarp covering the load, there are shovels, cutting shears, motors, and all sorts of farming tools. Don't matter to me what kind of getaway car I drive. I pull on the driver's handle and this time, the door opens right up. Twinkle shimmies in first and I follow. First thing I do is lean under the steering wheel and yank the ignition cap.

“Hurry!” she whispers. “They're going to find the bus any second!”

“Hold your horses, I got this.” I press the two red wires together and like magic, the truck roars into life. “I tole you I could do it.”

“Yes! Good job.” Her eyes dart every which way while she wrings her hands. “There are about five exits out of here, so I think you'd better—”

“Lookie here,” I explain, cutting her off mid-sentence. I pull the truck into reverse but I don't back up. Let her sweat it out a bit. I lay my arm atop the steering wheel and turn toward her. “As cute as you is, I been on the lam since looong before you were born, which makes me the boss, got it?”

“Yep, you're the boss.” She turns her head and I swear I hear her say, “for now,” but I let it go. She might think she wants to be in charge, but if things get rough, she'll be begging me to take the lead, just wait and see.

I grab the blue baseball cap that's lying on the seat between us and pop it on my head. “Time for you to disappear, Twinkle.”

She grabs a shoulder belt and snaps it in place. “No. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be quiet as a mouse from now on.” She clamps her lips shut, zips them shut, and throws away the key.

I hide a smile. I know I should be mad at the way she's sassing me, but I never met a woman so cocksure before. “I meant that the cops is looking for a man
and
a woman, so uh…” I look at the floor by her feet.

“Oh, whoops. Sorry.” She unsnaps her buckle and slides her curvy bottom onto the floor, scrunching down in a ball like a snake. “Ready.”

I back up, grinning like a fool, aiming the truck the opposite way of the cop lights flickering on the ceiling. Heading for the patch of daylight one room over, I drive slow as molasses so I don't call no attention to me. I turn onto the ramp and drive straight up toward the sunlight as the cop car passes behind us. When he don't follow, I grin. Already outsmarted one cop. Looks like I ain't lost my touch.

When we get on the street, I whistle as I whiz past all the tall buildings. “Chicago sure got a whole lot bigger since last time I was here.” I pat the seat next to me. “The coast is clear. Come on up here. I want everyone to see what a gorgeous gal I got by my side.”

She ignores my compliment, but climbs up all the same. “That was so scary.” She slips onto the seat and fastens her seat belt. “I can't believe we did it!”

“We?”

“Okay, you,” she says with a smile. “Thank you.” She gasps, pointing to a sign on the right. “Hey! Take 41 South, coming up in a quarter mile. That's what we want.”

I pinch my cheeks to keep from smiling. Twinkle said “we.” Means she's starting to think of us as a couple. My plan is afoot. I switch lanes, trusting that her navigating skills are better than Bonnie's. That girl could steal maps, but she couldn't read one any better than she could read Chinese. Flashes of light spark in my head and I realize my blunder.

I concentrate on naming the cars around me to get my mind on something else. There's a red Buick, a tiny gray car no bigger than a tin can, big brown truck that says UPS—and that's as far as I need to go. The flashing lights in my head fade, and then disappear. I take a deep breath. Forgetting about my old gal is going to be harder than I thought. After the deadline tomorrow, I'm hoping it won't make no difference who I think about. In the meantime, I got me a good-looking dame to set my sights on.

“Where you heading, Twinkle?” As long as it's in the direction of Texas, I'll be fine.

“Anywhere but here. How about south?” She digs in her purse and pulls out her red communicating device. “I can get directions on my GPS.”

I don't like secret codes unless I'm in on them. “Come again?”

“Global Positioning System. You type in where you want to go and then a satellite—it's this robot thing that circles the earth—sends back information about how to get there.”

I eye her sideways. “You expect me to believe that, Twinkle?”

She laughs. “It's true! A lot of stuff has happened since you”—she pauses, her face gets all scrambled like she's trying to suck the words back in—“I mean, in the last eighty years.”

“How's about you stop talking about how long I been asleep, and concentrate on our future? How's about we head to Texas and see if any of my kin can lend us some money? Unless you got some?”

“Sorry. I spend my cash as soon as I get it.”

I chuckle. “Same as me.” As I guide the truck onto the highway, I can barely believe my eyes. The road is four lanes wide and smooth as a lake on a breezeless afternoon. “Sweet Jesus!” I press the accelerator, feeling the power under my foot. “Yeeee-haaa!”

Twinkle looks behind us, her face a mess of worry. “Don't go crazy, Clyde. If the cops pull us over, we're screwed. They'll run our plates and—”

I cut her off. “Relax, kitten. I know what I'm doing. I'm the best driver there ever was. Got away every time.”

“Not
every
time,” she mutters, facing forward.

I wish she hadn't brought that up. “You're right. Every time
except
the last time. But that had nothing to do with my driving. It's because a stoolie named Henry Methvin opened his trap and got me kilt. Goddam squealer.” I picture his face and feel the steam rising up my innards, threatening to choke me. I open the window to get more air in this truck.

“Yeah, I'm sure it was horrible. But try and forget about all of that for now and concentrate on driving. Just so you know, today's cops have radar—electronic equipment that measures speed,” she says, sounding like a schoolmarm. “Better not drive faster than eight miles per hour over the limit until we get out of the city.”