Pulp Ink Part 3

"Cut the vulgarities, Moody. I've had enough of that where I come from. Tonight my life changes forever." Her voice cracked with emotion. She walked back to her chair and sat. "I don't think you understand the implications. I could leave you high and dry at any moment. I hate to think what Hank's men will do to you."

It didn't matter whether I believed her or not. She was feisty, hardheaded and stubborn. But so was I. "I ain't telling you anything until you do your last little gum sniff thing." I was acting tougher than I was feeling.

"But..." she argued, holding the gun in my general direction.

"We sniff first, Shasta Star." I walked over and sat in the metal chair across from her. I placed my hands on my knees and stared her straight in the eye.

She pointed the gun at my chest.

The music stopped upstairs, then thundered with more fervor than before.

I felt nervous. Breathless. Sweaty. The room spun. I was seein' shadows. They were dancing to music that'd gone from an innocent bluesy twist to a chase me with a b.u.t.terfly net wink wink dance club straightjacket. Shasta made me feel funny in the head. Real funny. Especially holding the gun point blank at my chest, blinking at me as if she were considering having coffee or tea with her key lime pie.

"Oh, alright, you big bully. But then you tell me the best hiding place. Promise?"

I nodded, relieved.

She lowered the gun, placed it in her lap and drew one more object out of her purse.

I rubbed my hands on my thighs. She seemed to have an obsession with Wrigley's gum. I started thinking of all the brands, ready to start naming them before I even smelt the gum. Air stirred in front of me.

"Doublemint?"

"Come on, Moody. Don't be daft."

"Uh, Trident?"

"Seriously!"

Okay. Okay. Maybe she was being sneaky. "Double Bubble?"

"No."

"I know! I know. Bazooka Joe."

She whipped it away. "You didn't even smell it."

Hmm... had a point.

"You're just randomly spouting off brands without even smelling the flavor. Maybe my brother was right. Maybe you aren't very bright."

"Chiclet?" I guessed.

"Moody!"

"Okay. I'm sorry, Shasta, baby. Let me sniff again, huh?"

"Baby? Now you're reducing me to pet names? We don't know each other. We aren't even friends. I don't believe this." Shasta stood and paced the floor. Music roared above. Feet dashed the floorboards like teeth. Lady Gaga's "Monster" played. The click clack of Shasta's heels matched perfectly with the ba.s.s above. "I thought you were a bit brighter. Thought things through. Time is running out upstairs. Twist will be over soon. I need you to tell me now. Where can I hide?"

"Let me smell again."

She walked over and sat down. She reached her hand out, fingers quivering at my touch. I ducked my nose to them and sniffed her palm like there was c.o.ke on 'em. I closed my eyes. I smelled sarsaparilla, and something else... reminded me of Easter morning. Something I'd get in a basket with chocolate, peeps, jellybeans. That was it. Only this one tasted odd with jellybeans. Licorice. I looked up.

"Licorice."

"Yes." I couldn't see her smile, but by the sound of her voice, she was having a tiny explosion in her chest.

I said, "I had it once. My Uncle Jack, had a farm high up in the blue mountains. We'd go stay with him on spring break. He told us stories about the goose that laid the golden egg. He was the one that got me thinkin' about them pretty jewels. I wanted a goose that could lay golden eggs. But just like the story with that boy and the three magic beans, you gotta go steal 'em from the big rich folks that have them. Then chop down their beanstalks before they get out the door." I stopped for a moment.

"Are you talking about Jack and the Beanstalk? 'Cause that ain't the story I heard. I heard that "

"Just a minute. I'm tellin' you about gum."

Shasta hushed, antic.i.p.ating.

"Normally, Easter never fell on spring break, and my folks weren't religious, but Uncle Jack liked the Easter Bunny. Said he was the only rabbit that laid eggs like a chicken. And they were chocolate. I wished they were gold, but only chocolate. Anyhow, we spent one Easter with him," I said it slowly, "and he gave me a basket full of jellybeans and this gum that tasted like licorice, and I think it's called "

"Yes?"

"Uncle Jack said it was called..."

She gripped my face. Her palms and the gum smooshed against my nose and mouth. Waiting for it. Waiting for me to say the name.

"I just can't quite seem to remember. It ain't a popular gum is it?"

"No. But you can remember, I know you can. And we can both move on to "

"Opportunity," I said, face squished against her palms.

"Exactly."

"May I? It might ring a bell," I asked.

"Sure. Why not."

I licked her hand long and hard, catching up the gum in my mouth. I heard her catch her breath.

"Still don't recall. My poor Uncle Jack "

She gasped waiting for me to say the name of the gum.

I said, "Rest his soul. Best stuff ever with this licorice and all. Maybe you can give me the history and then I'll remember."

"Sure. In 1869, after losing the Alamo and thereby being exiled from Mexico, General Santa Anna brought a ton of the evergreen chicle "

"Hey that rhymes with tickle."

"Gee, ain't you smart? Anyways, brought a ton of chicle to New Jersey to make enough money to buy his presidency back in Mexico. An inventor named Thomas Adams noticed that Santa Anna liked to chew the stuff. Which the ancient Mayans liked to do, also, I may add."

"Ahh, enlightening."

"It is! Adams boiled a small batch on his stove and created chewing gum. In 1871 he patented a Snapping and Stretching Machine using pure chicle with no flavor. Later, he added licorice and called it "

"Black Jack!"

"Yes, the very first chewing gum. Hey! You knew it all along."

I laughed and slapped my knee. "Sure did, Shasta Star."

"You lied to me."

"I didn't lie. I just wanted to lick your hand."

Shasta slapped me hard across the face and started for the stairs.

I chased after her. "Hey, wait a minute."

"We're going up. Tell me now."

"But what's the plan?"

"There's no plan unless you tell me where I can hide."

I made a decision. "In the crypt under Saint Mary's, there's a second door."

She stopped on the fifth step. My face planted in her tiny waist.

"A second door?" she asked.

"The priest never goes in there because it squeaks so loud. He thinks it sounds like a demon."

"I didn't know about that."

"That's because he keeps it well hidden."

"This is wonderful. This means you're telling the truth." She turned and hugged me. "Thank you, Moody."

Something didn't feel right here again. "Listen, honey, how does bro know about all my hidey spots, hmm? And how do you?"

"What if I told you, bro don't know and I just do?"

The hair on the back of my knuckles stood on end. "What do you mean?"

Laughter again up above. "Daddy Cool" by Boney M played. Seventies. Eerie.

"You see, somebody told him you've been giving his wife foot rubs. She's a real sucker for that sort of thing, you know. He's seriously ticked. He doesn't know about the jewel stash. Only I know about that. I needed to get away. I didn't want to be under his thumb forever. I didn't want his money. And you have saved me. I want to join the circus, Moody."

I felt something hard and cold stick into my ear.

"You're gonna blow my brains out?" I asked, incredulously.

"I... I just don't know. I mean. I wasn't gonna. But. Opportunity hasn't seemed to play out. Coincidence is there. And I really like you. But I can't afford to be screwed over again."

My mouth hung open. The gum almost fell out but I snapped it in before it did.

"Hank hit me a couple of times. More and more recently. I don't like it. I'm ready to leave that s.h.i.t and be my own woman, earn my own honest living."

"Honest living. So you're stealin' from me?"

"What does it matter to you? You got that big ol' stash you've been stacking up. You were never going to use it. Just pile it up. You were too greedy to ever stop. You like the thrill of the hunt, of them cops and gangsters chasing you down. You liked out smartin' everybody. At some point, someone was going to catch up to you."

She had a point.

"Mmm..." I said. I felt sad all of a sudden. Stealin' them jewels, gettin' away with it, made me feel on top of the world. And now talking with Shasta, I suddenly felt like I had nothing. Was a nothing. I should have taken that money and gone to Mexico.

"Shasta, why don't you get a real job? You're a smart girl. A lot smarter than the girls I've met." I paused thinking about this, well aware that a big hunk of steel was loaded, c.o.c.ked and ready to blow my brains out.

"And what if the ringmaster decides to beat on me like Hank. Like I was a dog. Like I was his property. Anyways, there are worse things that can happen than just getting hit." She drew closer, pausing.

The song ended and Chuck Berry started up. Upstairs it quieted as if the crowd were intense on a dancing couple.

"One of Hank's guys, big fella named Gustav, he's always had a liking for me. He forced himself on me a year or so back, when he was real drunk. All the fellas knew about it except Hank. They tease me. Gustav threatened to tell Hank about my extracurricular activities, like researching you, if I told. I hate that son of a b.i.t.c.h. If I had a stack of cash like yours, if something bad went down at The Flying Unicorn, I could just leave and find somewhere else to go."

I wondered if he was the brute that kicked me in the b.a.l.l.s? I'd like to find Gustav and put a pretty knife right through his berries. "Shasta, you can't spend your whole life runnin'."

She sighed. Shifted. Looked at me. Nodded. "I don't want to be a patsy anymore, Moody."

I nodded back. Patsy. Uncle Jack was the only one I'd ever heard use that term. After he came home from being whipped at bingo every other night. Another coincidence. I whispered, "I don't want to be greedy b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

Shasta dropped the gun from my ear. "I tell you what. I'm gonna let you go. And if you can manage to make it outta here alive and meet me at the second crypt of Saint Mary's..." She dropped off. Then, "Coincidence "

" and opportunity." I finished.

She turned to go upstairs. I grabbed her arm. Turned her around. "And if not?"

"Then so long, Carl Moody."

We stood there for a minute, the $5 Mil sign burning just for us. I wanted to kiss her full on the lips. I couldn't see the color of her hair, but I imagined it a strawberry blonde, smelling like coconuts and lime. I couldn't see her dress but I knew it was silk with polka dots. She could have all my money. I had one purpose in life.

"Miss Shasta Star, I'd like to escort you to The Flying Unicorn."

She smiled. Bubble Yum.

Shasta turned and ran up the steps. I followed. Like a trained spy woman, she peeked through the door. I looked in behind her, but was temporarily blinded by the light flooding the darkness. I covered my eyes, and took a few steps back. When I opened my eyes again, I had a good look at Shasta. She was everything I had imagined. A real golden egg. And I didn't have to steal it. It had stolen me.

"Moody, come here." Shasta motioned to me. I stepped up behind her again and looked, trying not to get distracted by the smell of her hair. I chewed my Black Jack.

Everyone was on the dance floor and looking at the stage. "And these two are the winners of Jack Rabbit Slim's Twist Contest!" said the announcer. "Twist and Shout" played. Couples cheered and clapped. Some dark haired, slicked back dude stood there, looking as if Scotty had beamed him up and back down again hours ago. He appeared to be having the time of his life with a foxy little girl. She kept glancin' at him with coy eyes. Someone was scorin' tonight. I jolted and looked at her hard. Hey, wasn't that Mr. Wallace's wife?