"Jesus Harold Christ," she said, reaching for the door. "I've had enough of this shit. You're on your own."
"Wait," Bobby said and grabbed her arm. "I can't do this without you."
She looked at him defiantly, but didn't pull away. She wiped the hair back from her chin with her thumb, holding the cigarette away from her face. Smoke curled into her eyes. She squinted.
"And what exactly am I waiting for?"
He squeezed her arm gently. "Look," he said. "It's not my fault."
She jerked her arm free. "I'll try to remember that the next time she calls." Kelsey took another drag then blew the smoke toward the rear window. It ricocheted back, adding to the fog. She tapped the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. "How'd she get my number anyway?" she asked.
"I don't know."
"Well she got it from someone, bubba."
"Maybe I mentioned it when I lost my phone," Bobby said, shifting in his seat. "You know, for emergencies."
The timing couldn't have been worse. Jody-Marie called just as a randy Kelsey had awakened him in their motel room. Kelsey's phone was persistent on the bedside table, and when she reached over to silence it, she saw who it was.
"Bobby there?" Jody-Marie had asked, feigning innocence. "I wanted to wish him a happy birthday."
Kelsey answered by lifting Bobby's waistband and shoving the phone into his shorts. He fished it out then held it tightly against his ear, hoping Kelsey couldn't hear Jody-Marie's song. But he knew she had when she'd climbed not too gently over him and out of the bed. She slammed the bathroom door and turned on the shower. When he tried the knob, it was locked.
Now they sat next to each other in the pickup, engine running, and a
handgun on the seat between them. The rain stopped.
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