Wanted (28 page)

I stick the hose into the gas spout and squeeze the handle, but nothing comes out. I try again, but the gas line is either dry or broken. A dull brown car pulls up across from me. I watch a scrawny white-haired gent inch his way out of the car, take a plastic card from his wallet, and then slide it through the slot on the pump. So that's what I need. I grab Jack Daniel's wallet, flip it open, and lo and behold, what do I see but a shiny silver card smiling up at me.

I did exactly as the old coot did. I try again and this time, it works. The numbers on the pump fly so fast they make me dizzy. My stomach gets an ache watching the price go up, until I remember that Jack Daniel's footing the bill. While it's filling up, I use the time to take a piss in the bushes. When I'm zipping up, Twinkle hustles toward me with a brown bag in her arm.

And she's not smiling.

My heart sinks. “What's wrong, woman?”

“Please tell me you didn't use Jack's credit card to get gas.” She stares at me, her bright green eyes filled with worry.

“A silver plastic card with numbers on it?” I ask, not admitting nothing until she tells me why she wants to know.

“Damn it!” She looks over her shoulder, scanning the street with her eyes. “If they're looking for you, for us, the cops might be tracking its usage.” She grabs her forehead like her head hurts. “I just realized. Maybe our phones, too.”

“What? How?” I freeze, wanting answers.

“Remember the robot satellite system I told you about? The one for the GPS maps? Well, the cops can use that system to pinpoint where we are. We need to turn the power off right now.” She holds up her phone and pushes a button before tossing it back into her purse. “And the credit card transactions go through a computer and they can find us that way too.”

I don't understand all she's saying, but I know it ain't good. I dig into my pocket and pull out my communicating device. “Here. Do mine.”

She grabs it from my hand, our skin touching briefly. I hear Bonnie yelp, “Hey!”

Twinkle rolls her eyes, slides a button on the side of Jack Daniel's phone, and hands it back to me—this time making sure our skin don't touch. “And no more credit cards, either.”

“Agreed. Let's go.” We turn toward the truck, but to my surprise, Twinkle races to the driver's side and leaps in behind the wheel.

“What are you doing?” I stand next to the open door. “We ain't got time to mess around.”

“I ain't messing round,” she says, imitating me, a Texas-sized drawl dripping from her lips.

My stomach drops. “Bonnie?”

She laughs. “Nah, I'm just teasing you. But come on, please? I want to drive a while.”

I trot out my proper Northerner talk, making sure to pronounce my endings. “Now is not the time. Please take your cute little bee-hind out of the driver's seat, Miss Twinkle.”

Her mouth drops open. “How did you do that? I couldn't hear your accent at all!”

I grin. “I'm mighty talented, Twinkle. I tole you that before. Wait. I
told
you that before.” I hold my hand out, as to assist her out of the car. “Now please don't argue with me for once.”

“What happened to the true partners thing you said before?” She eyes me squinty-like, waiting for my answer.

“I meant it. It's just that now's not the right time—please?”

She smiles. “Fine. But at some point I really do want to drive, okay?” She sets the bag down on the floor between the two seats and gets out, her breasts brushing my chest as she scoots past me, sending a chill up and down my body.

She bites her lip, grinning. “Oops, sorry.”

“I ain't.” I can't stand being this close without kissing her. I put my arm up, blocking her off from leaving. “About that kiss.” She's so close her breath is warm on my cheek.

“I want to, but I don't know if we should,” she says, looking up at me with those green eyes that draw me in like a moth to a flame. “I mean, Bonnie got awfully mad and I'm—”

And just like last time, I lean in and kiss her before I have any more reminders that could cause me trouble. Her tongue is spicy hot as it teases mine, slowly, playfully—so different than any other girl. We kiss for several seconds, the heavenly scent of cinnamon rousing all my senses—which makes me realize once and for all that smelling something strong don't have nothing to do with letting Jack back in.

Still, I'm careful not to let my body press close to hers, lest I get carried away. I'm about to end the kiss so we can get back on the road, when her hands reach up around my back and pull me closer. I know precious time is escaping, but kissing her is so interesting and new, a few seconds more won't hurt. My fingers stroke her neck, across her shoulder blades, and end at her shoulders, where I give a gentle squeeze to signal that we need to make tracks.

Apparently that's not enough for Twinkle—she wants more.

She puts a hand on each of my butt cheeks and forcefully pulls my hips forward into hers. She moans, moving slowly in circles and twisting her head to kiss me first left, then right, her tongue flitting in and out of my mouth fast, the same way that—I stop, pull away, confused. Twinkle told me that Bonnie could only speak through her when I touched her, but that she controlled her own body. But something ain't right with that last kiss because those moves was exactly like Bonnie's—fast and urgent.

“Bonnie?” I ask, stepping back, a lump in my throat the size of a gopher. “Is that you?”

Flashing lights start up behind my eyes, so I fight back with my mind. I'm stronger than Jackie Daniel, I just… have to… hold on. A taste as vile as death itself comes into my mouth, so I turn my head and spit onto the ground.

“You have to ask?” She reaches for my belt. “How's about we start up where we left off.”

I look into Twinkle's eyes and see the pain of not being in control of her own body. I grab on to both her wrists and peel them off me before Jack Daniel takes over, too. Before I let go, Bonnie yammers, “Don't let go, baby. I'm getting stronger each second you're holding on to me. She's been keeping secrets from you!”

“Is that right?” Knowing Bonnie's right here, ready to pitch woo along with anything else I tell her to do, should make me as happy as the day I got freed from Eastham Prison. But instead, I'm feeling out of sorts, maybe even a little sad. I guess I've taken an even more powerful shine to Twinkle than I thought. I know we need to get back on the road and fast, but not before I hear what Bonnie has to say about what's really in Twinkle's heart.

Bonnie, or maybe it's Twinkle, squirms in my grip. “The little tramp figured out that it's our own strengths and weaknesses that let us flow into each other. Running her mouth is her weakness, but you're my strength, Honey Bear. Turns out that the longer you hold me, the stronger I get. So you'd better not let go, y'hear?” If I keep on wasting time, I could miss my opportunity to switch places with Jack Daniel forever. As I start leading her toward the passenger side of the truck, Twinkle tries to dig her feet into the ground, fighting me. Like coaxing a sick child into the doctor's office, I push and tug her.

The white-haired gent walks toward us with a sourpuss face. “Everything okay?”

“Yup! She done twisted her ankle,” I call out, with a friendly wave. “She'll be fine.”

After he nods his approval, I turn to see Twinkle's mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. She's aching to talk I bet, to tell me she hates what I'm doing to her. My heart aches because it feels like I'm betraying Twinkle. Course, if she's been fibbing, I need to know the truth. “So what else did Twinkle tell you?”

Bonnie prattles on, “She knows your weakness is me, Sugar, so stay strong so Jack don't take over. If we're there at the deadline, we can be the ones staying. The tour man told her so.”

Lights flash behind my eyes—bigger, more powerful. Every second hanging on to Bonnie takes every ounce of strength to not relax my mind. Batting away images of Bonnie and me together is near impossible, but I can't let go of her, not yet, not until I know the whole truth of what's to come. “What are you saying? How?”

“She's going to do a ritual, hoping to get rid of us!” Twinkle pulls and twists to get out of my grasp. I close my eyes and think about my dog Jezebel again, trying to fight off Jack Daniel. Beams of light like a reporter's flashbulb flutter through my mind.
Go away!
I roar, hoping to scare Chickenshit off, but the lights don't stop. “What else—quick! I'm fading fast!”

“Some half-dead folks think there's a way we can trade places with them—permanently! Please baby, figure that out so it can be you and me together again—just like the old times.” Twinkle really kicks in then, squirming and twisting more than a worm on a fishing hook, but after that shocking news, I need to know more.

“Trade places altogether? How? Did they say?”

“No, not even sure it's true, but this tramp I'm in is worried about it, that much I know. But I ain't saying any more until you swear it's me you love. If you don't stop—”

As Bonnie rambles on, I shake my head in awe. Twinkle is one smart schemer. I sure could use a gal by my side who's not only clever, but can keep secrets—though I'm mad as a hornet that she was keeping 'em from me. Can't exactly blame her though, since I tole her it's every man and woman for himself.

“—you'll be sorry.”

Course, as much as she's complaining right now, there ain't no moll more loyal than Bonnie. She'd sit in the car in the blazing heat, honking when she saw me running out of the bank so I'd know where she was. Anytime I asked, she'd rub my sore feet or fetch me a cool drink. How is a guy supposed to choose when one gal satisfies his heart
and
his mind, but the other worships you so much she'd do anything for you?

The decision is a tough one for sure, but the heart knows what it wants and there ain't no use in trying to persuade it otherwise. “Don't worry, darlin'. I'm taking you with me in the end,” I lie. Before I know what hit me, Twinkle leans against the truck and aims her two feet squarely in the center of my chest. She pushes me back with such force that I lose my balance, making me lose hold of her wrists. Hot damn, that girl is stronger than a Brahma bull. The sky explodes in a raging storm of light, and I feel like I'm being lifted up into a funnel cloud.

On my way down to the cement, I know for certain which dame I want to be with.

It's a shame I'll never get to tell her.

Clyde lies on the ground near my feet, slow to sit up. Judging from the heavy thud I heard when his head hit the ground, I'm hoping he sustained a blow strong enough to keep him at bay while I decide what to do. He groans, gripping the back of his skull, his eyes closed. I scurry sideways to grab a hefty chunk of tree branch off the ground to use as a makeshift weapon, not wanting to turn my back on him. There's a jagged end of the branch where it split from the tree, which I can use as a dagger if he tries to grab on to me again.

I glance around, wondering what to say if a bystander asks if I need help. Turns out I don't have to worry about that. For now, we're the only ones here. Maybe it's better that way. I don't need any witnesses if I end up having to defend myself. The thought of stabbing Clyde turns my already queasy stomach into an even bigger jumble.

You stupid, stupid tramp! Get back over there and help him up!

I'm not touching him again, you idiot!

My brain is still reeling from the revelation that Bonnie's ability to control my limbs kicks in the longer Clyde touches me. I felt her gaining strength with each passing second—first my hands, then my arms, and near the end, my feet. If he held on any longer, would I have been able to stop her from heading into the back seat to heat things up even further?

Would you have wanted to stop? my foggy brain asks.

Shut up, I scream. What's wrong with me? Not only is he a half-dead gangster, but he's a skilled liar who probably doesn't give a flip about me—only about staying alive.

That's right. Now get your dirty thoughts off of my man, you scheming little whore.

Geez, Bonnie, chill out! I just said I don't want to be with him, so relax!

I look toward the mini-market, relieved that the cashier has his nose in a book, too busy to notice what's going on out here. What will I do if Clyde drags me into the truck, clamps onto me, and doesn't let go? I won't even be able to make a run for it in the end. And if the rumor is true they actually can trade places with us, where will I be? Lying in Bonnie's grave somewhere? Or up in the waiting place, lingering about until the end of time?

Panic rises up my chest and lodges in my throat. I picture Bonnie and Clyde using our bodies and going back on the run. Black spots appear on the edges of my vision and a high-pitched whine, like the sound of cicadas in the summer, fills my ears. An overwhelming sensation of needing to vomit blindsides me, so I hold on to the truck's mirror and lean forward. Having not eaten in over eight hours, all I manage is a few dry heaves. I stay like this for a few more seconds, waiting until the feeling passes. Slowly, I stand up. My head pounds in unison with the throbbing of my heart, as thunder rumbles overhead.

While confident I won't faint from lack of circulation, I can't guarantee I won't blackout from pure disgust—of myself, of what I've brought on to me and Jack, and of having a dead woman inside me who wants my body for herself.

Too late now, chickadee.

Clyde finally opens his eyes and looks at me, moaning quietly. I feel equal parts victorious and horrified that I put him there. I take a deep breath, deciding to ask about his intentions straight out. “Who were you talking to when you said that you'd take them with you in the end, Clyde? Me or Bonnie?”