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“Okay,” she replied softly.
Ma shook her head at me. “Watch over this one. I can tell she lets people trample her to be polite. You should spend some time with me; I’d teach ya not to let folks stomp all over ya.”
Gianna laughed nervously and then blew into her steaming mug.
***
“Bring her back sometime,” Ma ordered, poking me in the ribs while hugging me goodbye.
I blew a raspberry on her cheek, making her laugh. It was something she always did to me to get me out of a snit as a kid.
Gianna laughed. Ma hugged her and handed out playful ass swats to both of us before we got into my truck.
Gianna waved and smiled at Ma and Ma’s neighbors who were waving from their driveway until we were out of sight.
“Your momma is the best,” she said after a minute and then she reached for the radio dial.
She stopped on a country station playing Jolene by Dolly Parton.
“No. Fuck no. Keep the dial movin’, hostage.”
“Boo,” she grumbled, “Dolly is da bomb.” But she kept going until it landed on Guns n’ Roses, Paradise City.
“There,” I said.
She let go of the dial. “Figured as much what with the Slash tattoo on your arm.”
I snickered. “Yeah.”
“You got a couple musical tatts,” she put in.
“I’m aware,” I fired back, shooting her a grin.
Her eyes lit up with amusement.
“Yup,” I went on, “Music has gotten me through some dark times.”
“Me, too,” she whispered.
“That’s a nice guitar you’ve got,” I said.
“I’m no Slash, but I love to play. Helps me forget stuff.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Or work it out.” She shrugged. “Sometimes I can’t make sense of the shit swirling around my brain until I put it to music.”
“Hm. You write music then?”
“I just dabble.” She lifted a shoulder and then reached for the tea my mother packed for her in the Valentine Motors travel mug she’d had her oatmeal in yesterday.
“I strum some. Also bang on some drums,” I said. “Had a couple piano lessons.”
“Cool.”
“Can’t carry a tune real well, though,” I added. “Not like you.”
She shifted uneasily.
“How’s the belly?”
“Not a hundred per cent but definitely better. Thanks. Um, can you possibly check my phone and see if there are any new messages from Kailey?”
“Checked after my shower while you were in for yours. Nothin’ new. And no data. Only came up with Ma and Archer’s Wi-Fi screen so looks like your phone is off.”
“Ugh.”
“If you need to check in with your Instagram or Facebook or whatever in case she messaged you, we can hook it to a hotspot on mine when we get to the cabin. Or anyone else. Just no updates from you on any of those.”
“Of course. And thank you. But anyone else what?”
“Anyone else what?” I parroted.
“You said, or anyone else. I was asking about that.”
“Anyone else you need to check in with. Your parents. Other siblings? Dunno. You got family?”
“I don’t need to do that. Nobody’s wondering where I am.” She wrapped her arms around herself and stared out the window.
A sore spot, obviously.
“But I’d like to look at my messages,” she piped up a minute later. “Of course you can read over my shoulder. I mean… I’m not tryin’ to pull a fast one.”
“All right,” I replied, annoyed she thought I was still thinking that about her. Because I wasn’t. At all. I slept holding her last night. I’d had my fingers inside her, kissed her that morning. If that didn’t say I wasn’t currently suspicious, then what the fuck? Pissed off, I turned the music up.
I was less steamed a few minutes later after mulling over the fact that with her looks and her status in the club, she probably had plenty of people interested in getting inside her despite not knowing much about her, so she was probably thinking I was the same. Willing to fuck around but still not trusting her. I spun the radio volume down and spoke up.
“If I had suspicions about you, no way would I get hard for you. Or if I did, you’d never know about it.”
Her body went tight, though she said nothing.
“And you definitely knew about it this morning, didn’t you?”
She bit her lip.
“Get me?” I pushed.
She nodded quickly, eyes downcast.
“If I’ve got something on my mind, I say it. Okay?”
She nodded, still not looking at me.
I turned the radio back up.
***
She followed me into the bougie store that had both regular and special diet foods, so it’d work as a one-stop shop, though even the regular shit probably cost twenty per cent more.
I didn’t want to be on the road or out in public any longer than necessary. I had a good concept of whether or not anyone was following me when I was out, felt it like an extra sense, always keeping my eyes peeled, but I wasn’t taking chances. There used to be a Wyld Jackals charter here as well as in Fargo, and though we heard both were defunct, there might be old Jackals around these parts. For that reason I was not wearing my brotherhood patch.
