Forty-Four Box Set, Books 1-10 (44) (52 page)

David had told me that Mo played in one of the bands in the stack of CDs, and I was looking forward to hearing what she had going on besides, of course, a winning personality.

“It’s harsh, harsh music,” he whispered, when I had asked about her band.

Mo had been working at Back Street for three years and David was sure that she was some sort of relative of Mike’s. Mo wasn’t that much older than me, but she seemed like it. David said he sometimes saw her at the clubs on the weekends.

She turned up the music louder than usual, the bass pumping steadily through my body. The guitar riffs reminded me of the grunge sound of the 90s. It was pretty good stuff, and I made a note to myself to borrow the CD and add some of the songs to my running playlist.

Two men came in and I dialed down the volume. I took their orders and when their drinks were ready, they headed for opposite corners and sat at small tables.

“Going on my break,” Mo said, her eyebrow rings glinting in the light. The place was empty now and I was wiping down tables, killing some time.

“Okay,” I said.

I watched her for a moment as she walked outside and pulled a cigarette from her pocket, lit it and sat down on the curb. Soon she was engulfed in white smoke.

I went over to the espresso machine and dumped out the grounds into the bags that we gave out for free to gardeners, and washed out some canisters. David came back up to the front and turned down the music even lower.

“This band sucks,” he said. “Hey, how’s it going out here?”

“Good,” I said. “You off soon?”

“If soon means right now then, yes,” he said, smirking. “Scary, huh? Being left alone with Mo.”

He laughed. He was just having fun. Out of everybody, David was probably Mo’s favorite. He knew that I was a little intimidated by her.

“Must be awfully quiet in here with the two of you. Sorry to miss out on all the fun. Just remember. Her bark is worse than her bite. Actually, she doesn’t even have a bite. Really. She’s very cool. Just low energy, that’s all.”

I shrugged.

“So how’s that beautiful boyfriend of yours?” he asked as he grabbed a towel and wiped down the counter.

I gave him a look and held it for a minute before rolling my eyes. I didn’t exactly like that term, and he used it often. I wasn’t even sure if Ty was exactly my boyfriend. We were friends, did things together. Kissed sometimes. I had strong feelings for him. But I told him I needed to go slow, really slow. He said he completely understood and that he wanted to give me room to recover from everything. That’s what we were doing for now. So I wasn’t sure if that really qualified as being a couple.

But I wasn’t going to go into all that with David.

“Ty’s good,” I said. “How’s your beautiful boyfriend?”

He laughed and leaned up against the wall.

“Wow, look at you,” he said, shaking his head. “It only took five months for you to warm up to me, but here we are. Abby Craig, I never gave up hope.”

David always called everyone by their first and last names, like we were all stuck in a Stephen King story. I thought it was odd the way he did that, until I found out he was actually from Maine, just like King and most of the characters in his books and movies. I guess that was just how they talked back there.

“Come on, now,” I said, smiling. “I warmed up to you at least a week ago.”

He laughed again.

“And by the way,” David said. “Eduardo DaCosta is just fine. You should come out with us sometime. We’re going to the clubs on Friday night.”

David was a big partier and was always coming in looking like what the cat dragged in on Monday mornings, with lots of stories about his crazy weekends. He also had a hard time remembering that I wasn’t 21 yet and couldn’t get into the bars.

He looked at me, his light eyes wide, waiting for an answer.

“Can’t,” I said. “Not until the end of June anyway.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m always forgetting that,” he said. “You just don’t seem 20 years old, Abby Craig. You’re much older and wiser. An old spirit or something.”

I nodded. It made me kind of sad, David saying that.

“Well, June’s not so far away,” he said. “We’ll paint the town red on your birthday weekend.”

“Okay,” I said.

At least I had a few months to figure a way to get out of it.

“So I’m gonna go clock out,” he said. “You can always call me if you can’t take Mo anymo’. I’ll talk you through the rest of your shift.”

I laughed.

“We’ll be fine. We’ve done it before, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I remember. That’s why I’m saying it. I got your back.”

I threw a towel at his head, but he ducked out of the way before it hit his face.

Mo and I said almost nothing to each other after David left, even though we were working side by side. The music had gotten louder again.

“Maybe we could close early tonight,” she said as I stood by the window, watching the steady rain fall. Most of the light had left the sky.

“Sure, if you think,” I said. I was sure Mike would be fine with it. He did that sometimes too if things got slow.

I yawned, stared over at her for a minute as I collected some packages of Guatemalan coffee to put out on the shelf. She had a small diamond stud in her nose. Her hair was different shades, shoulder length with lots of product so it could stand up in parts.

I tried to think of something to say or something to ask Mo, but it was hopeless. I didn’t want to come across like those nervous customers who felt compelled to make small talk with her. I just let the silence sit and grabbed the broom and started sweeping as I heard the door bells chime and saw two women come in.

“Looks like you two are having a good time,” one of them said. Mo didn’t answer, but cut the music as I walked over to the cash register.

Most of the customers who came in were either attracted to Mo or scared of her. She never smiled or said much, but her piercings and tattoos earned her a certain amount of respect. Even the bank ladies and men in suits who came in at the lunch hour would be friendly, even if they looked at her with fear. They would ask her about where the best place to get a tattoo was in town, or if it hurt. Or if she was going to get more. Most of the time she would nod and not even respond.

“Really, you’re seriously getting one?” she’d say once in a while, staring at them with her dark eyes until they squirmed.

Although she was pretty scary looking, I knew she really wasn’t that bad. David didn’t need to tell me. I watched her slow, gray energy move around her. She wasn’t full of life, but she wasn’t dark either. The way it floated around her reminded me of Dr. Mortimer’s energy, the way it looked right after he had killed Nathaniel. I figured that Mo probably carried a deep sadness of some sort with her, buried behind walls.

I finished ringing up the women. They were just buying beans. I was glad that we wouldn’t have to wait for them while they finished drinks.

“Thanks, hon,” the older one said, pulling up her hood and heading out into the rain. After the bells rang and they were gone, Mo came up to me.

“I hate that
hon
shit,” she said.

“Me, too,” I said, smiling.

I boxed up the remaining pastries and left it on the counter. Mike donated them to the homeless shelters and every morning they came by to pick up the day-olds right before we opened.

I grabbed a pound of the dark roast espresso beans from the shelf, and put it next to the register so I wouldn’t forget to take it home. It was one of the perks of the job. Free beans every week.

It was pouring outside now, heavy drops pounding on the roof in a steady rhythm.

“Let’s call it,” Mo said. I nodded and she turned the sign over and brought down the blinds.

Mo cleared out the cash register, counted the money, and took it in the back to put away in the safe. When she came back out, we both started working on the espresso bar. We were working again side by side in complete silence, and once again I caught myself looking over at her arms. 

They really were striking. Both arms were covered in ink. Some of the tattoos were large, some small, all of them making some sort of statement. I made out a large heart with a crack down the middle, a girl holding an electric guitar, and a large cross.

My eyes had stayed on them too long.

“Thinking of getting one?” she said. I inhaled suddenly when our eyes met.

I smiled awkwardly and shook my head. I tried to think of something smart to say, a good way to describe them that didn’t sound like those nervous women. They weren’t exactly beautiful, but they did have an interesting charm.

“They’re so intricate,” I sputtered out finally, knowing how dumb it sounded.

She looked down at the girl holding the guitar.

“That’s supposed to be me playing,” she said, pointing. “And that’s the name of our band under it.”

I moved a little closer and studied it.

“No Mercy,” I said. “Cool.”

She grabbed the broom for a final sweep around the store as I finished washing out the half and half canisters. It was crazy. In all the months since I had been working at Back Street, I realized that we had just had our first conversation.

We finished up, closing only about 15 minutes earlier than usual. I phoned Kate, got her voicemail, and left a quick message telling her I was heading home.

“You on tomorrow?” Mo asked, as we stood in the rain while she locked the front doors.

“No,” I said.

“Later,” she said.

I watched as she took off across the asphalt, darting over the deep puddles. As I ran behind her, I realized that my Jeep was the only car parked in the lot and that Mo was walking. I caught sight of her sprinting away into the dark, wet night, turning off on Bond Street before I had a chance to offer her a ride home in the hard rain.

CHAPTER 6

The highway was empty and I stepped down on the accelerator, pushing the Jeep just past 65. I unrolled the window and let the warm air fill the car. It was a beautiful day with only a few clouds in the far distance, the sun high, looking down across the open desert.

I hadn’t been out to the Badlands in a long time, hadn’t even been on this highway going east and cutting through the high desert in years. The hiking trail was only about 18 miles from town, but the landscape felt so removed and different from what I was used to. Gone were the mountain views and buttes and pine trees. This mostly flat, lonely land was filled with rocks and junipers and sagebrush and assorted desert grasses under a big sky.

It was Friday and I felt lucky to have the day off. And although Ty had to work, he didn’t start until five which meant that we had the entire afternoon to hike.

“Let me pick you up so we can drive there together,” he said when I called him.

“No, I’ll be fine,” I said, sticking to my plan. “I want to stop by Big Sky Park first and get in some practice.”

Big Sky was where I played soccer most of the time and it had six soccer fields, baseball diamonds, and even a bicycle motocross course. It was a great place to practice shooting, especially during weekday mornings and afternoons before school let out.

“I can come along and practice with you,” he said.

“It’s right on the way, Ty. I’ll just meet you at the trailhead. I’ll be fine. Really. I’ll call you when I finish.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding a little frustrated. “I have to pick up my check and stop at the bank, so I’ll be there about one.”

“See you then,” I said.

Ty had started working over at 10 Barrel. There hadn’t been too much work up at the mountain this season, so he got a part-time job at the popular pub and brewery over on Galveston Avenue. But he seemed happy. Bend was becoming known as a beer hotspot across the country and Ty was pretty excited about having a job in the industry, even if he was a waiter. He was hoping they would teach him about the brewing aspect of the business. I was glad that he was still planning on working as a river guide this summer.

I turned up Kathleen Edwards as she sang about breakfast and monsters, slowing down when I saw the small sign for the Badlands. A minute later I pulled into the dirt lot by the Flatiron trailhead.

There was only one other car in the lot, an older Toyota 4 Runner. I was surprised Ty hadn’t beaten me here.

I had forgotten that it was never too crowded out here. Most people went up to the mountains or hiked along the river trail. Maybe it was too quiet for them. It suited me just fine. You could hear yourself think. Maybe that’s what kept people away.

I jumped out, my legs a little sore from my run so I did some stretching while I waited. It had been a solid practice, my speed was getting better and so was my stamina. My shots were on target, low and hard, hitting the back of the net most of the time like they meant business.

I heard the sound of a car on the highway and then saw the dust rise behind his pickup. Ty parked next to me.

“Hey, Abby,” he said, jumping out and slamming the door.

My insides churned like they always did when I saw him for the first time.

“Hey,” I said, smiling.

He walked up to me and pulled up his sunglasses briefly showing me his eyes while he smiled. It was an inside joke. I was always on him about how those particular glasses he loved to wear all year drove me crazy because I could never see his eyes and never knew where to look when we were talking.

He reached over and pulled me close, kissing me softly on the lips.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, afterwards. “I didn’t want you waiting here by yourself like that. You should have stayed over at the park.”

“I literally just got here. Seriously. Look, the Jeep is still warm,” I said, putting my hand on the hood.

Ty sighed and put his hand on top on mine and let it sit there for a minute.

“Didn’t mean to go all Christoph Waltz on you earlier,” he said before looking away. “I just, you know, worry sometimes.”

I studied his energy. It moved like it always did, fast and light, dancing playfully around him. He smiled and leaned toward me, kissing me again.