By the time Doris returned with the waffles and coffee, my mind was made up.
“I want to apply,” I said, standing and extending my hand as though the job interview had already begun. And as I stood, the straps hooked around my ankle sent me lurching out over the counter while the bag itself flew backward. Bundles of the pawnbroker’s bills spilled out across the linoleum floor. The old man spun his head in my direction as if he was seeing me for the first time. I dropped to my knees, started shoving thousand-dollar stacks of cash back into Anna’s tote bag. I figured when I was done I’d bounce up and run for the door.
Doris stepped out from behind the counter and stood there watching me with her arms folded across her chest.
“And you want to waitress for me?” she said. “Whatever trouble you’re running from, it must be bad.”
Something in her voice told me I had nothing to fear. Not from her, anyway. I looked up, flashed a timid smile.
“You own that big yellow farmhouse?” I asked.
“Maybe.”
“I’ll give you a hundred dollars if you let me use the shower.”
She studied me hard.
“I’m guessing there’s a reason you can’t go to a motel?” she said.
“More than one.”
She dug her fingers through her thick gray curls while she thought it over.
“All right,” she said. “Eat your waffles and meet me out back.”
Chapter 21
I FOUND Doris standing by an industrial-size dumpster, a shotgun dangling from one hand. I cursed myself for being so goddamn dumb, for tagging along after a woman I’d met five minutes ago as if she was some kind of savior, as if she didn’t have her own set of problems that sixty grand might fix. Whether she was planning to kill me or just rob me, I had it coming.
“Perfect day for target practice,” she said, glancing up at a cloudless sky. “Can see a hundred miles in any direction.”
I took a slow look around. She was right: no point in running.
“Guess I won’t be taking that shower,” I said.
There’s a calm that comes with having lost all control. I set the bag full of money that wasn’t really mine on the ground at my feet, raised my hands, and backed away. It became suddenly clear to me how far I was from anyone and anything I knew.
Doris looked at me and lost it. She laughed until her gut couldn’t take any more.
“You’re no career criminal, that’s for sure,” she said. “Hell, I’m not even pointing this thing at you. What is it? Abusive husband? Handsy boss? You can tell me—I’m familiar with both.”
I lowered my arms—slowly, in case the situation might still go sideways.
“So am I,” I said.
She sauntered over to me, held out the gun.
“Take it,” she said.
For a long beat I just stared.
“Are you serious?”
“Is the trouble you’re in serious?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, I thought so,” she said. “Look at you, meetin’ a stranger in a Texas back alley here where no one can see, all ’cause you got some seat-of-the-pants notion that you might hide out and play waitress. You see what I’m sayin’?”
“I think so,” I lied.
“I’m saying we need to get you ready.”
She thrust the gun at me so hard I had no choice but to accept it. I thought I understood then: she was looking to make a sale.
“How much?” I asked.
She ignored me, pointed across the yard to a wooden trellis with old coffee cans hanging from its frame. A makeshift shooting range.
“Think you can bull’s-eye one at this range?”
I pushed the gun back toward her. She refused it.
“I wouldn’t know how,” I said.
“Well, that’s what we’re doin’ here, ain’t it? I once taught a twelve-year-old girl to fire that thing, and she wasn’t exactly what I’d call precocious. I figure I can teach you, too.”
The question was, did I want to learn? Sean was always after me to take up shooting. He booked sessions at a firing range, gave me a Glock for my thirtieth birthday. I made him cancel the sessions, return the gun, and buy me a new set of stainless ware instead. I’m not the killing type. That isn’t me pleading my innocence—it’s just the truth.
But things had changed since I turned thirty. There were people who wanted to hurt me. Professionals who inflicted pain for a living. Even sixty-one miles outside of Kerens, Texas, there was a chance I’d end up serving one of Vincent’s men. Maybe Vincent himself, if his stomach started growling at exactly the wrong spot on the interstate.
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe you’ve got a point.”
“You ever fire a gun before?”
“No. But I’ve been around guns.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means I know how. I’ve just never had a reason to.”
She pointed to the trellis, which was maybe twenty feet away.
“Knowing and doing are two different things,” she said. “Let’s start with a coffee can. They’re small, but at least they don’t fire back.”
I pressed the butt plate against my shoulder, shut one eye, and stared down the front sight with the other.
And then I froze.
“If you believe Sun Tzu, the battle’s won before it’s fought,” Doris said. “Visualize the Maxwell House guy’s face exploding and then go on and pull that trigger.”
I took a deep breath, aimed, and froze some more. I’ve never performed well in front of an audience. As a kid, I wanted more than anything to be a singer. Aunt Lindsey bought me some lessons, and by the time I finished with them I could carry a tune better than most sixth graders. What I couldn’t do was make myself walk out onstage come talent night. The vice principal tried to shove me out of the wings, but I grabbed on to her leg and wouldn’t let go. Sometimes
