Rattlesnake (20 page)

“Twenty-three. Five years out of high school, and I
loved
working the ranch. It’s all I ever wanted to do. When you’re out there with nothing to work with but your horse, your hands, your own strong body—nothing in the world feels so good.” He laughed slightly and squeezed Jimmy’s hand. “Well, almost nothing. Have you ever had a job you’ve loved like that?”

“Not really. I’ve liked some, though.”

“Did you ever—when you were a kid, maybe—sit there and think about what you truly wanted to do with yourself? Like Aunt Belinda. She adores that inn. She’d probably park herself there all the time if somebody didn’t pry her away now and then. And Charlie? She’s wanted to be a teacher since she started kindergarten. She used to make us play school, and even though she was the youngest, she was always in charge.”

Jimmy remembered his answer from before. “For a while I thought it’d be cool to be a fireman. All those lights and sirens, I guess.”

Shane rolled his head to look at Jimmy. “Really?” he asked, his eyes brighter blue than the sky.

Jimmy shook his head slightly. “No. Not really. I never actually thought about it, I guess.” Because most of the time, survival was his goal, and even when he was very little, he knew he’d never amount to anything. Hell, everyone told him so. Sometimes in words, sometimes just with the looks they’d give him as he stood with his unkempt hair and unwashed body, wearing threadbare hand-me-downs. And nobody ever asked what he wanted to be when he grew up.

“How can you stand being here?” he asked. “On the ranch, I mean. Doesn’t it get to you?”

“’Cause I can’t work here anymore? Yeah, I guess it bugs me. But it’s still home. My family’s here. I’d miss it like crazy if I was away too long.”

Jimmy didn’t understand that. There were whole sections of states he avoided because of the memories, like Chicago, where he’d lived when his mother died. He sure as hell didn’t miss those places. “And you’re okay with being a bartender?”

After thinking for a moment, Shane said, “Yeah. I can support myself, and that’s real important. For a long time after the accident, the docs said I never would.
That
would have killed me by inches, spending the rest of my life depending on other folks. Even if they didn’t mind me being a burden. And I like the inn, that old heap of bricks. Plus, I get to meet some real interesting people.” He reached over to smooth his free hand over Jimmy’s chest.

It was Jimmy’s turn to think for a while. He’d always thought that when dreams died, the heart grew bitter. He’d seen that with his mother; even though the doctors blamed cancer, he’d always been convinced it was rotting hopes that had killed her. But here was Shane with his life and body broken, yet he moved on and found room in himself for new happiness.

As if he’d read Jimmy’s thoughts, Shane sighed. “I recovered a lot better than anyone predicted, and for a time I swore that someday I’d get back in the saddle. But that’s never gonna happen. The doctors tell me that if I let them at me again, they maybe could get rid of some of the pain. But not all of it, and I’m never gonna move around any better than I do now. Took me a few years, but I accept that. I’m grateful for what I do have. Not everyone’s so lucky.”

Luck was a relative thing. Maybe Jimmy should remember that more often.

“So the pain—they can help you with that?”

“Maybe. I got some plates and pins stuck to my bones. They tell me they could take ’em out and I might be more comfortable. But they’d have to cut into me again. I’d have to go back to the hospital and I can’t… I don’t like hospitals.” He shuddered slightly.

“Do you take pain meds?”

“Nah. I already take enough ’cause of the seizures, and I don’t want to end up an addict. I don’t like how they make me feel either, like I’m not in control.” Unexpectedly, he laughed. “My brother Ty got himself a medical marijuana card after he hurt his back lifting something. His back’s fine now but he still has the card, and sometimes he drives to the dispensary in Jackson and picks up a little weed. Maybe one Sunday a month we get high together. I don’t think Mom’s happy about it, but it helps a little, and I figure as long as I don’t make it a habit, it’s okay.”

“So the rest of the time you just… live with it.”

“Don’t have much of an alternative.” Shane looked at Jimmy shrewdly. “You can’t outrun your pain, Jimmy, ’cause it’s a part of you. You just have to make your peace with it.” He gave Jimmy’s hand a final squeeze before letting go and climbing slowly to his feet. “We’d better find our clothes. Pokey’ll be waiting to drive us back to town.”

J
IMMY
WAS
going to leave on Monday, but his morning started early with the arrival of the linen service truck. He helped unload clean sheets and towels and load the bags of dirty ones. Then a whole caravan of other deliveries arrived—liquor, beer, and other bar supplies as well as huge packages of toilet paper and soap and teeny bottles of shampoo. By the time everything was off the trucks and put away, he was hungry and it was time to meet Shane at Mae’s. And then, well, there was the basement organization and inventory project he’d begun on Sunday, plus the realization that if he stuck around until the end of the day, he had an entire week’s pay coming his way.

So he stayed. Just one more day.

That night they had sandwiches for dinner at Shane’s place, and Jimmy spent a couple of hours at the bar, chatting with him between customers. Later, Shane came to his room and they had gentle sex, and it was good even though they were both too tired to make much of an effort.

Tuesday morning he had a thick wallet. He actually got as far as shoving his clothing into his duffel. But then he realized he had nothing to read. He’d finished the Stephen King he’d brought and the Elmore Leonard that Shane had given him. He had two other books—Kurt Vonnegut and Dean Koontz—but he’d already read them both three times. He hated traveling without something to read. Besides, Belinda wanted him to repaint a scuffed wall in the downstairs hallway. He sort of wanted to accomplish that much, at least.

So he spent the morning getting ready to paint: taping off the edges, scrubbing the walls, filling the holes where something heavy had once been bolted. Then he discovered that the paint he’d found in the basement, which was supposed to match the opposite wall, didn’t. Someone had mislabeled it. He took the can to Belinda, who was perched in her usual spot at the front desk, and explained the situation.

“Terry,” she sighed. “He’s a nice boy, but how Trudy puts up with him, I’ll never know.”

“I can dig around in the basement some more. Maybe there’s—”

“Don’t bother. I’m not all that happy with the color anyway.” She tapped her finger thoughtfully and then looked up as a young couple walked in the door. “Maybe Shane can stay here for me while I drive to Sonora to pick out something new. Would you ask him?”

“Sure.”

He walked down the hall and around the corner and knocked on Shane’s door. It took a moment, but when the door swung open, there was Shane with his curls still wet and his white T-shirt stuck to his chest. “It’s you,” he said, frowning.

Evidently the moment had arrived: Jimmy had overstayed his welcome. He looked down at the floor. “Sorry. I just—”

“Why didn’t you just come in? You have the key. Now my clothes are all wet. If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have bothered throwing them on before I was dry.” He reached out to quickly stroke Jimmy’s cheek.

That sudden lightness in Jimmy’s chest? That was just stupid. He was a stupid man. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Jesus, Jimmy. I already told you, you’re welcome anytime. You never complain when I barge into your room at night.”

“I’m not about to complain about
that
.”

Shane quirked a smile. “Yeah, and whenever you want to pop on over for a quickie, be my guest. But that ain’t— You can come over just to talk, you know. Or do your laundry or make some toast or… hell, whatever you want. In fact, I’ve been thinking….” But whatever he’d been thinking, he must have decided not to share it. He squinted at Jimmy and leaned in the doorway. “So you here for sex? Or toast?”

“Neither. Belinda sent me. She wants to know if you’ll mind the store while she heads to Sonora for paint.”

“Paint?” Shane snorted. “And I bet she stops for lunch at that frou-frou place she likes. And then admires but doesn’t buy the overpriced dresses in the store next door.”

“So you want me to tell her…?”

“I’ll be out in just a few. But now I can’t join you at Mae’s today.” He sounded genuinely disappointed.

“Want me to deliver your meal?”

Shane’s face lit up. “I’d like that. Thanks.”

Mae’s was a little slow that morning. Katy, their regular waitress, dimpled at Jimmy as soon as he entered. “You guys want a window seat today?”

“Actually, I’m going to take our omelets to go. Shane’s stuck at work.”

She clucked her tongue. “He works too much. You oughta take him out sometime. One of his sisters or uncles or someone can take over the bar while you catch a movie.” She winked. “Johnny Depp’s playing at the Jewel Box.”

He gave her a noncommittal nod, and she went off to put in his order. But she returned shortly and leaned against the counter, telling him about how her younger kid was home with the flu—his grandmother was taking care of him while Katy worked—and her older kid had just gotten glasses.

“Candy told me your daughter won the school spelling bee,” Jimmy said. “And she’s going to the county competition?”

Katy beamed. “She sure is. She’s been practicing. Only in sixth grade and she can already outspell me and her daddy.”

They gossiped until the food was ready. She’d recently started charging Jimmy less than the menu prices, and when he asked her about it, she’d shrugged. “Friends and family discount.”

Balancing the foam containers in one hand and a paper cup full of OJ in the other, Jimmy pushed out the door. A couple of the local codgers sat on their usual bench outside. One of the guys had a medium-sized dog as portly and gray as he was. The other man cackled and said, “Now Shane’s got you waiting on him? He’s as bad as my wife.”

“I’ve met your wife,” Jimmy replied. “She’s way too good for you.”

The geezers were still laughing as he crossed the street.

Jimmy ate his omelet standing at the front desk, while Shane sat in Belinda’s seat to eat his. Grisel walked by pushing her vacuum and scolded them about leaving a mess.

“You can wait here with me until Belinda gets back with your paint,” Shane offered.

“Thanks, but I think I’m going to try for more progress downstairs. But who’s covering the bar?”

“In the unlikely event a customer comes in, I’ll be two places at once. I’ve done it before.”

“Well, give me a holler if you need me.”

Shane nodded thoughtfully. “You need a cell phone.”

“Why?” Jimmy had never owned one of the things and didn’t know how to work them. “Who’s going to call me?”

“Belinda, maybe, if you’re somewhere else in the inn and she needs you. Or… me. I’ll ask her if she’ll get you one. My cousin Ricky can get her a good deal.”

“I don’t think I need one,” Jimmy mumbled uncomfortably. “I’m, uh, I’ll be in the basement.”

That afternoon he painted the hallway a soft yellow. Then he and Shane ate pizza, and Jimmy spent a couple of hours in the bar. He knew several of the regulars by name now. Mostly they kept to the tables, but occasionally one of them would wander to Jimmy’s stool to talk about politics or the weather or the damned tourists.

In the wee hours of the morning, Jimmy and Shane traded blowjobs in Jimmy’s room. But this time they dozed off together in postorgasmic peace. Although Jimmy’s bed was a tight squeeze for two grown men, Shane didn’t head back to his own place until shortly before dawn.

After Shane left, Jimmy tied a towel around his waist and slunk to the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t run into any guests. Not having his own toilet was a little inconvenient. And he laughed at himself when he thought that.
Fuck. Aren’t we turning into a spoiled prima donna?

Back in his room, he almost considered getting dressed, maybe going for a walk before he started work. Maybe hitting the road. But he was tired and the sun wasn’t even up yet, so he dropped the towel and climbed back into a bed that smelled of Shane and sex.

He fell asleep right away. And he dreamed.

He drove down a wide empty road, very fast. So fast the wheels barely stayed on the pavement, and when he took a curve or topped a hill, the car was in danger of flying away altogether. It was a strange car, big and open-topped like a jalopy from some old movie. When he glanced behind him, he saw that the vast backseat was filled with books, which made him happy. But the next time he looked, the books were gone, replaced by folded sheets of paper that kept escaping the car and floating away. They were important. He didn’t want to lose them. But he kept on driving.

At some point he realized he had a passenger. Not a dead hitchhiker, which was a relief. No, this was Eddy, one of the old men who sat on the bench outside of Mae’s. Eddy’s dog was down at his feet, and Eddy droned on about taxes, and his upcoming surgery to replace all his bones with titanium plates, and his plans to turn the Rattlesnake public parking lot into a miniature cattle ranch.

Jimmy thought that Eddy was weighing the car down, keeping him from driving as fast as he wanted. So he screeched to a halt and pushed a button that opened the passenger side door. Eddy and his dog got out and gave Jimmy a sad wave before he tore away.

Although the road in front of him was sharply visible, everything else was obscured by heavy fog. He caught only glimpses of landscape as he sped by—trees, a gold mine, a hill, a shiny skyscraper—and he kept thinking he was supposed to look for something familiar, but he couldn’t remember what.

The car started making ominous growls and rattles. “No!” he shouted in the dream. “I don’t want to ride a horse instead.”