“I know what’s on the roof,” Ginny said. “Let’s do it. I’m itchy all over with bugs and dirt and that tub keeps shinin’ in my head. You want me to drive a spell, I sure will.”
“Get in,” Del grumbled. “Your driving’s scarier than anything I’ll meet.”
Morning arrived in purple shadow and metal tones, copper, silver, and gold. From a distance, East Bad News looked to Ginny like garbage strewn carelessly over the flats. Closer, it looked like larger garbage. Tin shacks and tents and haphazard buildings rehashed from whatever they were before. Cookfires burned, and the locals wandered about and yawned and scratched. Three places offered food. Other places bed and a bath. Something to look forward to, at least. She spotted the sign down at the far end of town.
“Hold it!” Ginny said. “Pull ’er in right there.” Del looked alarmed. “What for?”
“Don’t get excited. There’s gear needs tending in back. I just want ’em to take a look.”
“Didn’t mention it to me,” Del said.
Ginny saw the sad and droopy eyes, the tired wisps of hair sticking flat to Del’s ears. “Del, there wasn’t anything to mention,” she said in a kindly tone. “Nothing you can really put your finger on, I mean, okay?”
“Whatever you think,” Del said, clearly out of sorts.
Ginny sighed and got out. Barbed wire surrounded the yard behind the shop. The yard was ankle-deep in tangles of rope and copper cable, rusted unidentifiable parts. A battered pickup hugged the wall. Morning heat curled the tin roof of the building. More parts spilled out of the door. Possum made a funny noise, and Ginny saw the Dog step into the light. A Shepherd, maybe six-foot-two. It showed Possum Dark yellow eyes. A man appeared behind the Dog, wiping heavy grease on his pants. Bare to the waist, hair like stuffing out of a chair. Features hard as rock, flint eyes to match. Not bad looking, thought Ginny, if you cleaned him up good.
“Well now,” said the man. He glanced at the van, read the legend on the side, took in Ginny from head to toe. “What can I do for you, little lady?”
“I’m not real little and don’t guess I’m any lady,” Ginny said. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. You open for business or just talk?”
The man grinned. “My name’s Moro Gain. Never turn business away if I can help it.”
“I need electric stuff.”
“We got it. What’s the problem?”
“Huh-unh.” Ginny shook her head. “First, I gotta ask. You do confidential work or tell everything you know?”
“Secret’s my middle name,” Moro said. “Might cost a little more, but you got it.”
“How much?”
Moro closed one eye. “Now, how do I know that? You got a nuclear device in there, or a broken watch? Drive it on in and we’ll take a look.” He aimed a greasy finger at Possum Dark. “Leave him outside.”
“No way.”
“No arms in the shop. That’s a rule.”
“He isn’t carrying. Just the guns you see.” Ginny smiled. “You can shake him down if you like. I wouldn’t, I don’t think.”
“He looks imposing, all right.”
“I’d say he is.”
“What the hell,” Moro said, “drive it in.”
Dog unlocked the gate. Possum climbed down and followed with oily eyes.
“Go find us a place to stay,” Ginny said to Del. “Clean, if you can find it. All the hot water in town. Christ sakes, Del, you still sulking or what?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Del said. “Don’t concern yourself at all.”
“Right.” She hopped behind the wheel. Moro began kicking the door of his shop. It finally sprang free, wide enough to take the van. The supply wagon rocked along behind. Moro lifted the tarp, eyed the thirty-seven tins of unleaded with great interest.
“You get lousy mileage, or what?” he asked Ginny.
Ginny didn’t answer. She stepped out of the van. Light came through broken panes of glass. The skinny windows reminded her of a church. Her eyes got used to shadow, and she saw that that’s what it was. Pews sat to the side, piled high with auto parts. A 1997 Olds was jacked up before the altar.
“Nice place you got here,” she said.
“It works for me,” Moro told her. “Now what kind of trouble you got? Something in the wiring? You said electric stuff.”
“I didn’t mean the motor. Back here.” She led him to the rear and opened the doors.
“God a’Mighty!” Moro said.
“Smells a little raunchy right now. Can’t help that till we hose ’er down.” Ginny stepped inside, looked back, and saw Moro still on the ground. “You coming up or not?”
“Just thinking.”
“About what?” She’d seen him watching her move and didn’t really have to ask.
“Well, you know…” Moro shuffled his feet. “How do you figure on paying? For whatever it is I got to do.”
“Gas. You take a look. Tell me how many tins. I say yes or no.”
“We could work something out.”
“We could, huh?”
“Sure.” Moro gave her a foolish grin. “Why not?”
Ginny didn’t blink. “Mister, what kind of girl do you think I am?”
Moro looked puzzled and intent. “I can read good, lady, believe it or not. I figured you wasn’t tacos or dangerous drugs.”
“You figured wrong,” Ginny said. “Sex is just software to me, and don’t you forget it. I haven’t got all day to watch you moonin’ over my parts. I got to move or stand still. When I stand still, you look. When I move, you look more. Can’t fault you for that, I’m about the prettiest thing you ever saw. Don’t let it get in the way of your work.”
Moro couldn’t think of much to say. He took a breath and stepped into the van. There was a bed bolted flat against the floor. A red cotton spread, a worn satin pillow that said Durango, Colorado, and pictured chipmunks and waterfalls. An end table, a pink-shaded lamp with flamingos on the side. Red curtains on the walls. Ballet prints and a naked Minnie Mouse.
“Somethin else,” Moro said.
“Back here’s the problem,” Ginny said. She pulled a curtain aside at the front of the van. There was a plywood cabinet, fitted with brass screws. Ginny took a key out of her jeans and opened it up.
Moro stared a minute, then laughed aloud. “Sensory tapes? Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch.” He took a new look at Ginny, a look Ginny didn’t miss. “Haven’t seen a rig like this in years. Didn’t know there were any still around.”
“I’ve got three tapes,” Ginny explained. “A brunette, a redhead, and a blond. Found a whole cache in Ardmore, Oklahoma. Had to look at ’bout three or four hundred to find girls that looked close enough to me. Nearly went nuts ’fore it was over. Anyway, I did it. Spliced ’em down to seven minutes each.”
Moro glanced back at the bed. “How do you put ’em under?”
“Little needle comes up out the mattress. Sticks them in the ass lightnin’ fast. They’re out like that. Seven- minute dose. Headpiece is in the end table there. I get it on and off them real quick. Wires go under the floorboards back here to the rig.”
“Jesus,” Moro said. “They ever catch you at this, you are cooked, lady.”
“That’s what Possum’s for,” Ginny said. “Possum’s pretty good at what he does. Now what’s that look all about?”
“I wasn’t sure right off if you were real.”
Ginny laughed aloud. “So what do you think now?”
“I think maybe you are.”
“Right,” Ginny said. “It’s Del who’s the droid, not me. Wimp IX Series. Didn’t make a whole lot. Not much
