Rattlesnake (6 page)

“How about a refill?”

Lost in thought, Jimmy hadn’t even noticed Shane return behind the bar, where he now stood with the coffeepot in hand.

“Sure. Thanks.” Jimmy watched him pour. “So how come they named a town after a venomous reptile anyway?”

Chuckling, Shane set the pot on the burner, grabbed a clean white towel, and began to polish the counter. “They didn’t. They named it after a man. George ‘Rattlesnake’ Murray. He was one of the first prospectors to find gold near here, and he used his money to build a town. They say he got a lot richer selling supplies and booze and whores to miners than he ever would have by digging around in the dirt.”

“Why’d they call him Rattlesnake?”

“Most of the time, he was really calm, slow moving—sleepy, even. But if someone pissed him off, they say he’d strike out as suddenly as a snake. And that somebody would end up just as dead. There’s a cemetery up the hill about half a mile. Legend has it, thirteen of the men buried there were put there by old George.” Shane gave his crooked smile. “He’s a relative of mine. Great-great something.”

“And how many men have
you
put in that cemetery?” Jimmy teased.

Shane’s expression turned dark. “Only one,” he said before limping away.

After that Shane mostly stayed away from Jimmy, returning only to warm up the coffee in his mug. Although his movements were a little slow and clearly painful, Shane never remained still for long. He progressed from customer to customer, chatting or bringing them refills, and when none of them needed his help, he cleaned tables, polished the bar top, or washed glassware. He smiled a lot too, although maybe just because it was expected of him.

The older quartet paid their bill and cleared out, as did two groups of young people. Shane returned to the bar, where he brewed a fresh pot of coffee. He refilled Jimmy’s cup before pouring one for himself; then he leaned his elbows on the counter with a barely audible groan.

“You meant it about not kicking me out,” Jimmy observed.

“Well, it’s not like you’re causing any problems. What’re you doing here in scenic Rattlesnake anyway?”

That would have been a perfect opportunity to mention the letter. But Jimmy only twitched his shoulders. “Passing through.”

“Ah. Are you spending the night here?”

“It’s a little out of my budget.”

Shane nodded. “There’s nowhere else, you know. Well, except the fancy resort out near the highway. They have a golf course and everything. But if you can’t afford the Snake, well, that place is out of the question.”

“’S okay. I’m not much of a golfer.” Jimmy dumped a packet of sugar into his mug and stirred. “I’m planning to hit the road tonight anyway.”

“It’s getting late.”

“I like driving at night. And you’ve given me enough caffeine to keep me awake for a week, I think.”

The response came with a grin. “Happy to be of service.”

The cute kid with the camera gestured to get Shane’s attention. As Shane stood up straight, he gave another slight groan—hardly more than a sigh, really. He shuffled off, dragging his left leg.

Jimmy was comfortable on his stool in the Rattlesnake Inn. Too comfortable, considering it was time to go. That was the advantage of staying in shitholes like the Comet Motel—he was never sorry to leave them. The Rattlesnake was a hell of a lot nicer than the Comet.

All he had left to do was hand over the goddamn letter. But he didn’t want to give it up. Which was stupid. Tom wasn’t
his
father. Jimmy didn’t have a father. Never had. Not even one who hung around just long enough to make a few bittersweet memories. His birth certificate said “father unknown.” None of his mother’s subsequent boyfriends or husbands qualified; the best of them had simply ignored him.

When Jimmy was nine and begging Derek to take him out for ice cream along with his other brothers—Derek was sixteen and had just acquired a beater car—Derek refused. “I don’t gotta take you nowhere, asswipe. You’re not even our real brother. You’re only a
half
brother.”

Jimmy had asked Mama about it, and she scowled. “Their daddy left me a long time before you came around,” she said. “But you’re still brothers.”

“Then who’s my daddy?”

“Nobody,” she spat, then ordered him to get out from underfoot. After that she refused to discuss the subject at all. To this day, Jimmy wasn’t sure whether she even knew who’d fathered him. Maybe some nameless guy she met in a bar. God knew, Jimmy had experienced plenty of hookups with nameless guys when he was younger, although pregnancy was never an issue.

When Shane returned, Jimmy slid to his feet. “I guess I’m ready for the bill.”

“You sure? I don’t close for another two hours. You’re welcome to stay.” He looked sincere.

But Jimmy shook his head. “Thanks. But it’s time to move on. How much do I owe you?”

Shane gave him a careful look. “Two fifteen with tax.”

“Two fifteen? I must’ve drunk about five gallons of the stuff.”

“Refills are free. And I have to keep a fresh pot going all the time anyway. Most of it just goes to waste on a slow night. So you didn’t really cost me any extra.”

Jimmy opened his wallet and peeled out three ones, which he set on the counter. “Well, thanks. And thank you for not… for letting me stay.”

“Come on back next time you’re passing through.”

“I will,” Jimmy said, although he knew he’d never visit here again. He picked up his duffel, which had somehow grown heavier as it sat on the floor, and slung it over his shoulder. With a final little wave to Shane, he pushed through the saloon doors. The letter was still in his pocket, which made him feel slightly guilty, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to give it up.
Don’t need to disturb Shane’s quiet life
, he told himself.

The geezers had long since abandoned their bench, and no other signs of life appeared on Main Street. Everything except the inn was closed for the night. Jimmy’s footsteps sounded loud on the sidewalk, and overhead the stars were very far away.

His Ford still had the parking lot all to itself. Jimmy dumped the duffel on the front seat before sitting behind the wheel. He slipped the key into the ignition but didn’t turn it. He listened to the quiet instead, and thought about the way Shane smiled even as he limped. Was Shane really gay, as the men on the bench had joked? Well, what the hell difference did that make? Jimmy wasn’t going to pick him up. Wasn’t ever going to see him again. But maybe later, the next time Jimmy had a date with his own right hand, he’d get to thinking about that bartender again. The way his hair was a little too long and looked mostly brown indoors but might brighten to red-gold in the sunshine. And his eyes—filled with sparkle and life and colored like that precious stone. Sapphire? Yeah, these images might help Jimmy get through a few lonely hours.

He swore under his breath at his own stupidity.

Then he turned the key—and of course the engine did nothing at all.

J
IMMY
STARTLED
awake and bashed his leg painfully into the steering column when something banged close to his ear. He brought his seat upright and looked blearily through the window. A woman in a police uniform gave the glass another knock. It was hard to make out her features with the glare of the morning sun, but she didn’t look happy.

He carefully cracked the door, waiting until she stepped back a little to open it all the way. Even when the rest of the car had been operational, the window never rolled down.

She took in his mussed hair and day-old whiskers. “Sir, you can’t camp here. This parking lot is for day use only.”

He managed to avoid making a smartass comment about the fact that it
was
day now. “I’m sorry. My car wouldn’t start last night and it was late, and….”

Her frown softened slightly. “I can give you the number for Hank’s. He’ll come by and give you a jump start.”

“Thank you, ma’am. But I’m fairly certain my problem’s bigger than a dead battery.”

She squished her mouth to one side. “Well, you can’t stay here.”

He didn’t know why it was such a big deal. It wasn’t as if the city was hurting for parking spaces. Aside from the Ford, the police cruiser, and a delivery truck, the lot was empty. But he just nodded. “I understand.”

After one more stern look, she got in her car and drove away. He had the impression she’d be back soon to check on him. Fine. He’d be long gone.

He checked to make sure his few belongings were all in the duffel bag. Leaving the keys in the ignition, he got out of the car and shouldered the bag. The highway was a couple of miles away. He’d probably have good luck catching a ride there.

But as he walked down Main Street, it occurred to him that he had to pee. He could have found a tree somewhere away from prying eyes, but he also really wanted to wash up a little. Brush his teeth and tidy his hair. He was groggy—the Ford wasn’t comfortable to sleep in, and thanks to all the coffee, he’d had trouble falling asleep. And he was hungry. He hadn’t had anything but popcorn and coffee for dinner, and he hadn’t had a hot meal in forever. So when he came upon Mae’s Café, with the scent of sausage and maple syrup wafting through the open door, his feet carried him inside.

Mae’s was crowded and noisy. Mostly locals, he guessed, because a lot of the conversations seemed to cross from one table to another. A big display case full of pastries served as the cashier counter, and behind that, a doorway led to the kitchen. Three women in their twenties who wore white aprons and looked like sisters bustled back and forth between the kitchen and the tables.

“Help you?” asked one of them, a chubby bleached-blonde with several facial piercings.

“Um, one, please.” He didn’t often eat in restaurants, and he felt a little uncomfortable.

But she grabbed a plastic-coated menu and led him to a small table with two chairs. It wasn’t prime real estate, seeing as it was close to the bathrooms, but he liked it because he preferred sitting at the edges of rooms. Besides, he had enough space to tuck his duffel out of the way.

“You want coffee?” she asked, setting the menu in front of him.

“Please. And a glass of water too.”

She nodded. “We have fresh-squeezed OJ and grapefruit juice.”

What the hell. Why not? “Orange sounds great.”

He perused the menu carefully, squinting a little. He’d always had sharp eyes, but lately he’d been finding small print hard to read. Another unpleasant reminder that he was aging. But he soon forgot those morose thoughts because the menu was engaging. There were a lot of choices, and everything sounded wonderful. He still hadn’t decided when the waitress returned and plunked down his drinks.

“What’ll it be?” she asked, pad and pen ready.

“I can’t make up my mind. What would you recommend?”

That earned him his first smile from her. “You want my personal favorite? The french toast with the blueberry topping. The topping’s homemade and it’s really good. Get yourself some sausage and home fries on the side and you won’t be sorry.”

“You’ve made yourself a sale.” He handed her the menu.

After she left, he grabbed his duffel and hurried into the bathroom. He pissed and then gave himself a quick assessment in the mirror. He tried to keep his hair short so it never looked too messy. And his whiskers didn’t yet look too disreputable, though it annoyed him that they grew in much grayer than his hair, which was still mostly dark brown. All right, then. He could almost pass muster. He quickly changed into a clean T-shirt, washing his underarms and applying deodorant as he did so. Then he brushed his teeth and splashed his face. It would have to do, and he knew he should feel grateful to have done that much. There had been plenty of times when he hadn’t had access to running water, let alone hot water and soap.

Feeling slightly more human, he returned to his table and poured sugar into his coffee, now just cool enough to drink. The juice was delicious, and he liked the pulp. He was just considering whether to dig out his book and read during breakfast when someone approached the table.

“I thought you were heading out last night.”

Shane was smiling at him. He wore that same blue plaid overshirt, this time with enough buttons undone to show a gray T-shirt underneath. The sunlight sneaking in from the café’s front windows confirmed Jimmy’s suspicion—Shane’s hair was almost red.

“I thought I was too,” Jimmy said. “My car said otherwise.”

“Damn. Where did you sleep?”

Jimmy just raised his eyebrows since the answer was obvious. They both knew he hadn’t booked a room at the resort.

“Damn,” Shane repeated. “You should have said something. It’s too cold to sleep outdoors.”

“Wasn’t that bad. I have a decent coat. And a blanket.”

Frowning, Shane shook his head. Then he seemed to realize it was a done deal, because he gave a slight shrug. “Mind if I join you for breakfast?”

None of the other tables were empty, but surely Shane could have sat with someone else. He probably knew most of the other patrons. Jimmy’s heart gave a stupid little wiggle, like a puppy glad to see its owner. “Sure,” he said gruffly.

A moment later, the waitress brought Jimmy’s overflowing plate, as well as a coffee mug for Shane. “Usual?” she asked.

“Yep.”

The food looked amazing and smelled even better. Jimmy eyed it with unremitting greed.

“Don’t wait on my account,” Shane said. “Mae’s french toast tastes best right off the griddle.”

So Jimmy took a forkful, and holy
shit
, his taste buds went straight to heaven. He might have moaned slightly, because Shane chuckled. “Mae has that effect on a lot of men.”

Jimmy swallowed before answering. “Women don’t usually do it for me, but I might be willing to switch teams for the woman who can make this.” He pointed at his plate.

Was that a glint of interest in Shane’s pretty eyes? Maybe. Jimmy was no great catch, but in a town the size of Rattlesnake, the pickings were probably slim and fresh meat hard to come by.