This is an excerpt from my current novel project. To those with more traditional sensibilities, mainly my mother, I warn that this book contains vulgarities and deity references often considered blasphemous.
A little context. Mary’s daughter has been abducted and her husband has left. The city government is corrupt and police force was unhelpful. She goes berserk and attempts suicide. Taming her emotions with anti-depressants, she hits the road to look for some way of finding her daughter. She hitched a ride with a guy on a motorcycle and drove to town. She then spent the night in a homeless shelter. On waking unmedicated, she cannot cope and again attempts suicide while waiting for more pills to kick in. Through the veneer of suppressed emotions, she goes on. . .
When she stepped out through the thick metal doors at the front of the shelter, the streets were wet and dirty, and cold moist air gusted through the streets of the city. She hefted the duffel bag across her shoulder and shoved a free hand into a pocket and began walking, walking just to be walking, only trying to keep on the leeward side of buildings as she walked, but with no other direction or purpose. The previous night's rain had been enough to make the discarded newspapers and coffee cups soggy and the general grit and soot stick to the dumpsters and parking meters and leaves, but not enough to give the sort of the bath that the streets needed.
She found herself walking in a circle, around the block, and finally back in the direction she'd come the previous night, toward the diner. She slowed her pace and glanced into the front window at the patrons, huddled over their coffees in the half-light of the overcast morning. There were no policemen and no men in the eastern hats. The same fat motorcycle she'd ridden on last night was parked on the street in front, and there at a booth in a corner was the rider who had helped her.
He had a bandana tied around his skull and his tattered denim jacket was pulled close around his neck. He looked like he hadn't slept well, and he stirred cream and sugar into his cup mindlessly, a plate of uneaten toast to the side. When she stood beside his table, he looked up and gave a long sigh.
“Oh, for fuck's sake.”
She slowly slid into the booth across from him. He stirred his coffee. “I see you made it through the night.”
She nodded.
“I'm fresh out of cigarettes.”
“I'll buy you some more.”
“That's great. So. You need another ride somewhere?”
She thought, not really sure of what she wanted, not sure why she sat down, not sure what he could do for her. She simply gravitated to a familiar face. Still recovering her senses, she could not think of anything to say to break into his morning solitude.
“How are you doing?” She felt stupid.
He nodded to say he was fine. “Didn't find your family yet?”
“No,” she rasped. They sat in awkward silence. She reached into her bag and took out the flask and took a long drink. She handed the flask to him and, before he could make a comment about the hour of the morning and her substantial pre-breakfast nip or his own preference for coffee before 10am, she spluttered out “Mary...my name.”
He took the flask and held it there looking at her.
“Mary. That your real name?”
At least he was talking to her. She met his eyes. “It is now.”
A waitress appeared and asked for her order while noticing him with the flask between his thumb and forefinger. He looked away and shook his head.
“Coffee,” Mary said.
“Cream?”
“No.
“Anything to eat?
“A hard-boiled egg.”
“You sir?”
“I'm fine thank you.”
The waitress left. Mary pulled her hair around her neck like a hood and folded her hands between her thighs. He pushed the flask back to her.
“Look. Mary. I hope you know there's nothing I can do for you. I'm just a guy. I ride around. I work a job when I need a little money. Then I quit and spend it all on whiskey and pussy. And poker. When it comes to locating a misplaced family I’m about as useless as a hatfull of broken assholes.”
“I'll pay you.”
“To do what?” He looked at her as if she had just said she was from the future.
What could she say? to drive me around, to be my bodyguard, to get things for me? She shivered. “To stay.”
“Look. I’m not sure I ready to start going steady. We just met.”
“That's not what I meant.”
“I told you. I’m not exactly a safe person to run around with.”
“You did?”
“Yesterday. I told you I'd done bad things. You seem like a nice person and all...”
“But you told me you weren't going to do anything to me.”
“That was yesterday.”
“All bets off today, then?”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I got no cause to hurt you. No plans. I’m just saying, I'm a man. Not a nice man. And I think you could probably find a better...chauffeur, or whatever. Detective. Case worker.”
She leaned against the table. “Look. Jack. I'll call you Jack since you hadn't told me your name yet. I understand men. I'll throw in the benefits if that's what you want. But I got nobody. You said yourself you had more to be afraid of from me than I did from you.”
“That's not really working in your favor.”
“I promise I wont hurt you.”
“Thank God. That's very reassuring.”
“What have you got, some business lunch to get to? Stay with me a few days, til I can find something out. Then you can go about your business.”
“Suppose we do find your husband. Then what.”
“Then you can help me kill him.”
“Not if I'm already dead.”
“It's not really him I’m looking for.”
“Your daughter?”
“She was abducted.”
“Maybe he took her.”
“Maybe.”
The coffee and hard-boiled egg were set down in front of her. She took a sip and started to peel the egg. Then she cut it in half and salted it and took a bite. He watched her fiddle with the egg and drank his coffee, thinking about the husband and the girl, convinced that this would not end well, seeing no hope of finding an abducted girl and no desire whatsoever of finding the husband who had abandoned his family.
“This ain't my line of work. That's it. I'm sorry I can't help you.”
“What is your line of work, exactly?”
“ Shit. Arc welding if you must know,” he shouted. “It ain't being some hero saving lost children and rescuing damsels in distress.”
“I'll get you the things you want, and payment too. Not much I can do about your poker hand though. Starting right now, if you want a better breakfast than that. Ma'am, could I get a menu...”
“No, stop. I don't want anything to eat. I want you to stop being such a crazy bitch and come to reality.”
“You don't have to be a hero. Just stay with me. Give me a ride to a few places. Be my guard dog, you know? So I’m not such an easy target. I'll pay for all your gas. You can just sit and watch. I want to find a certain man, this detective guy McCarthy. I was told he might help. Two hundred dollars a day, and all expenses paid.”
“This is fucking nuts.”
“This is a paying job to do shit.”
“I make two hundred and fifty welding fucking I-beams and shit together all day.”
“Two fifty then.”
“Christ almighty.”
“I'll take that as a yes.”
