Rattlesnake (13 page)

“Morning, ma’am. Is there anything in particular you want me to start with today?”

“The security lock in 203 is loose and the guests in 204 said they felt a draft from the window. The upholstery on a chair in 101 is badly stained. Shane says one of the bar tables is wobbly. He’s marked it for you. And then I’d like you to repair the bathroom tile in 214.”

“All right,” he said, thinking he’d be earning his keep today at least.

It was inconvenient that Belinda wouldn’t trust him with the keys, because she kept having to unlock things for him. Not just the rooms but also the basement door so he could access the tools and supplies down there. But he waited patiently and without complaint.

The security lock took just a few minutes with a screwdriver, and he remedied the drafty window with a judicial application of caulk. The chair was a bigger job; it appeared that someone had poured an entire bottle of red wine onto the seat. But he found stain remover on a basement shelf, and after he applied it several times, scrubbing and wiping between applications, the stain blended in with the fabric nicely if he didn’t look too hard. He hoped that was good enough for Aunt Belinda—and when she inspected his work, she nodded slightly.

“I didn’t see any Scotchgard down in the basement,” he said. “But maybe you could get a bunch and treat all the upholstery.”

After considering his suggestion for a moment, she nodded again. “Add it to your list. But farther down because it will take a few days to arrive.”

“Okay.” Not that he’d be around by then, but he guessed Next Tuesday Terry could do it.

The bar seemed very empty without Shane. Even though nobody was there, it was Shane’s absence that resonated. Everything was scrupulously clean, all the tables gleaming and the chairs overturned evenly atop each one. Before he tackled the wobble, Jimmy decided a bit of snooping was in order, so he crept behind the counter. Everything was very tidy there as well; but his gaze fell on several lists. Taped in places where customers couldn’t see them, each detailed various tasks like brewing coffee, closing out the till, and opening and closing the bar. Someone had written them out in large, extremely clear letters. Not Shane’s handwriting and probably not Belinda’s, he concluded. Quite possibly Charlie’s—it had a schoolteacherish look. Jimmy’s heart ached a little, thinking of a proud man like Shane having to rely on instructions for such small tasks.

Once he turned his full attention to the tables, it took only a moment to find the one needing repairs. Shane had placed a paperback book there, a tattered copy of Elmore Leonard’s
Get Shorty
, and on top of the book, he’d set an errant receipt with two words in a shaky scrawl:
For Jimmy
.

Shit.

Ignoring the gift for the time being, Jimmy tested the table. Sure enough, if he pressed on the top, it tipped slightly to one side. He got down on the floor to examine the problem and finally decided a low-tech solution was best. He found a discarded wine cork and glued a slice of it to the bottom of one leg. Fixed.

He left the bar with his book in hand and an odd sense of accomplishment.

By this point, his stomach reminded him that he’d skipped breakfast. He should find a little market and get something cheap, but then he remembered the previous day’s french toast. Christ knew when he’d get a chance to eat so well again.

“I’m going to Mae’s to get something to eat,” he told Belinda at the desk. “If that’s all right. I’ll do the tile work when I get back.”

“That’s fine.”

He detoured by his room to grab his jacket and drop off the book. He couldn’t help but smile like a fool when he placed it carefully on his bedside table, underneath the Stephen King. And alongside the bottle of lube, which Shane must have forgotten when he left.

Two women had joined Belinda in the lobby, and they all stared at him when he entered. Belinda did cursory introductions: the tiny lady in her sixties with the dark skin and heavy accent was Grisel, and the round, pale lady in her twenties was Candy. “James will be managing minor repairs,” Belinda announced.

Jimmy smiled at the housekeeping staff. “Let me know if you need help with anything, okay?” He guessed that they might occasionally have to move heavy furniture or perform other tasks where an extra pair of hands would be helpful.

They eyed him with frank appraisal but no outright hostility. Probably neither of them was a member of Shane’s family.

As he’d predicted, the rain hadn’t let up while he performed his morning tasks. Head down and shoulders hunched, he sprinted across the street and into the café, which was less crowded than the previous day. The blonde with the facial piercings showed him to a table, this one in front of the window instead of adjacent to the bathroom. “Coffee?” she asked.

“Please. And a big glass of OJ.” At least he wouldn’t die of scurvy for a while.

She handed him the menu, and he tried to decide whether to go with a proven winner or try something new. Then he saw his waitress deliver a big platter of food to another diner, and he made his decision. “Waffles,” he said when his waitress returned with his drinks. “Can I have that blueberry stuff on top?”

“Sure. Sausage or bacon?”

“Bacon.”

“Eggs?”

He was going to keel over from instantly hardened arteries. Well, there were worse ways to go. “Scrambled.”

He sipped his coffee and watched the rain streak down the window, and maybe he completely zoned out for a bit, because he didn’t notice Shane until he sat down across from him. “Fancy meeting you here,” Shane said.

“You know I can’t resist Mae’s charms.”

“Nobody can. I think she spikes the food with something.” Shane leaned back in his chair and grinned. He was wearing that blue wool shirt again, today with a maroon Henley underneath. His eyes had a bit of extra sparkle that made Jimmy squirm in his seat and feel the remaining little twinge in his ass.

Jimmy cleared his throat. “Thanks for the book.”

“Welcome. Used to be mine, but I don’t— Well, I figure you’ll get more use out of it.”

“I’ll enjoy it.”

From a couple of tables away, the waitress waved at Shane. “The usual, honey?”

“Yep.” To Jimmy, he added, “I don’t know why she even asks. I always get the usual.”

“You could live dangerously. Order something different for a change.”

“No. It’s… routine’s important. Without it, I get a little lost sometimes.”

That was funny, because often routines made Jimmy feel lost. Not in the sense of disoriented, but… finished. Like he’d given up something important.

“Aunt Belinda says you were up early this morning.”

“I’m usually an early riser.” A habit learned from shelters that evicted men soon after sunup and from irate business owners who yelled if they found a bum napping in their doorway when it was time to unlock.

“I used to be too, on the ranch. But not now. The bar keeps me up.” Shane cocked his head slightly. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“I’ll manage.”

“I don’t sleep well. The doc gave me some pills, but they make me too groggy in the morning. Sometimes on slow afternoons, Sam comes by for a couple hours and I take a nap, as if I were the old guy, not him.” His smile held more pain than humor.

“One time I was in Missoula, heading for Idaho Falls by bus. I had to make a transfer in Butte, and that was fine. But then I fell fast asleep, and the next thing I know it’s five in the morning and I’m in Salt Lake City.”

“What did you do?” Shane nodded distractedly at their waitress, who brought his coffee and then bustled away.

“Well, I gotta tell you, there’s not much to do in Salt Lake at that time of day. It was late fall and the sun wasn’t up yet, and the neighborhood near the bus station isn’t exactly hopping even midday. I started walking. Randomly, because I’d never been there before, and I didn’t have enough cash to get me back to Idaho. I walked… man, I walked all day until my feet were about to fall off, but I couldn’t find anyplace to settle for more than a few minutes. And then it was night again and I was no better off. Worse, because I’d spent the last of my money on coffee and a sandwich. Plus, I was coming down with a cold or something and I felt like shit. All snotty and achy. I would’ve sold my soul for a nice warm bed and a bowl of chicken soup.”

Shane’s expression held curiosity, not pity. He stirred sugar into his cup. “Were you scared? Being adrift like that?”

“No. I’m used to it, and I’ve been in places a lot more terrifying than Utah. I was just tired. You know that exhaustion you feel deep in your bones, like it’s become a permanent part of you?”

“Yeah,” Shane said. “Know it pretty well.” Rehab, his sister had said. Surgeries. Having to relearn everything from scratch.

“Just when I was about to collapse, I found a bridge. A couple guys were already camped underneath it, but they didn’t complain when I lay down nearby. I covered myself with newspapers to keep warm, and traffic hummed overhead, and before I knew it, I was fast asleep. I didn’t wake up until the sun was well up. And by then the other guys were gone—and so was my pack. They’d taken everything I owned except the clothes I was wearing. I didn’t own much, but it’s nice to have a clean pair of underwear to change into.” Which reminded him, he needed to look into the laundry situation. He couldn’t really wash his clothing in his room because the sink was too small and he had no place to hang stuff while it dried.

“What happened to you?”

“I survived. I always do. Like cockroaches after a nuclear war. But things were especially rough for a while. And my point is that sound sleeping is overrated. Catnapping’s safer.”

Shane snorted and shook his head. Then the waitress brought Jimmy’s ridiculous amount of food and Shane’s bowl of oatmeal, fruit, and four triangles of toast.

“It’s Wednesday,” Shane said with slight melancholy as he picked up a spoon.

“Not an oatmeal fan?”

“No, I like it okay. It’s just that your waffles look way better.”

“You can have some.”

“Nah.” He sighed. “Extra weight is hard on my bones. You could stand to gain a few pounds, though.”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “You saying I’m too skinny?”

“I’m saying you look like the kind of guy who should be carrying more weight. I bet you haven’t been eating well.”

“I’m sure making up for it now.” Jimmy took a big bite of waffle. It wasn’t quite as ambrosial as the french toast but still completely delicious.

“Have dinner with me again tonight.”

“Shane, I don’t want to put you—”

“Digging up a meal for two’s not any more work than doing it for one.” His mouth twisted slightly. “Back on the ranch, when it was my turn to cook, I’d make enough stew for everyone. We’re talking a dozen people, sometimes more. Or spaghetti. I made a mean sauce.”

Jimmy wiped his mouth carefully. “It’s costing you money.”

Shane shrugged. “I have enough. Anyway, once you get paid, you can take some turns treating me.”

That implied a longevity to their acquaintance that wasn’t going to happen. But Jimmy didn’t want to tell him that now, not when Shane was spooning oatmeal into his mouth and looking smug. And last night had been good. Jimmy didn’t often get a second act, but if Shane wanted one, Jimmy wouldn’t say no. “Dinner would be nice,” Jimmy said quietly.

They ate in silence for a bit, until Shane grinned and used his fork to steal a bite of waffle from Jimmy’s plate, making them both laugh.

“How many states have you been to?” Shane asked. His question held a careful edge, as if he’d been chewing it over for a while.

“All of them except Hawaii.”

“How about other countries?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Not even Canada or Mexico. I don’t have a passport. But the US is big enough, I guess.”

“Even California’s pretty big.” Shane gnawed on his thumbnail for a moment, then abandoned it in favor of a long swallow of coffee. “Have you ever settled down anywhere?”

Jimmy had to consider this for a minute. “I think the longest was about five months. I was in Florida, near Ocala, and I got sick. Ended up with pneumonia and had to spend some time in the hospital, and even once I was released, I wasn’t in shape for much of anything for a while.”

Shane’s scrutiny was piercing. “But you left as soon as you were healthy enough.”

“Sure. I headed… let’s see… I think I went to Illinois next. I’d had enough of the South for the time being. I got a gig doing janitorial work in Kankakee. That’s where I perfected my skills at stripping and polishing floors, which maybe Belinda will want to take advantage of.”

“Yeah,” Shane replied absently, toying with his spoon. “But how come you keep moving? I mean, if you’ve been all those places, you must’ve liked at least a couple of them.”

“I did. I liked quite a few.”

“So why not stick around? Get a decent job and a decent place to live. Find… I don’t know. Friends. Start a family, maybe.”

Jimmy suppressed a shudder. “I’m not a family man. And I guess I’m always curious to see what’s around the next bend in the road.”

“What’s around the next bend might be something bad. You could get stranded and have all your stuff stolen. You could get sick, or go hungry, or… I bet lots of nasty things have happened to you.”

Caught between a shrug and a sigh, Jimmy looked away. “Yeah. But good things too. Amazing even. Like this one time in New Hampshire, I was—”

“But you keep leaving those good things behind. You say you want to see what’s around the next bend, but is it worth it when you’ve already got something really nice? And you can’t find all the miracles in a few days or a few weeks. I told you, I’ve lived here my entire life, and yet sometimes I still get pleasantly surprised. I never know who’s gonna walk into my bar, for instance.” He smiled warmly at Jimmy.

Jimmy didn’t like where this conversation was going. He pushed away his plate, the bacon only half-eaten. “It’s just how I’m built,” he mumbled.

“Not me. Even if I wasn’t a fucking cripple, I figure I’d pretty much stick around here.”

“You’re not a cripple.”

Shane grimaced and then grabbed a piece of Jimmy’s bacon with his fingers.