In the week that follows securing a copy of the key to the Stella, things are unusually quiet at the Safehouse. I haven't seen hide nor hair of Tex and Cori, but Cash has assured me they're still in town, they just haven't resurfaced. Apparently they have a lot of 'catching up' do to.
Cash and I have been kissed a few more times, that's it. The idea of taking things further sparks some kind of nervous frenzy in me that I don't care to dwell on, and knowing he sleeps only one room away is going nothing to quell the onslaught of fantasies running through my mind at any given moment.
On a rare night off from work - and partially with the intention of cooling my head a bit - I drive over to Pearl's place to visit Blister. It's Pearl herself who opens the door, white hair swept into a french braid.
"She's not here."
My heart thunders. "Where is she?"
"Take a breath." Pearl sighs. "She's at a study group until late. No boys there, I checked."
It wouldn't surprise me to learn Pearl had walked into the destination of this study group with her shotgun cocked and swept the place for signs of teenaged boys.
"Thank you."
"She has this big test coming up next week and she's worked herself up something fierce."
"History. She mentioned it to me." I'm about to excuse myself and drive back to the safehouse when Peal opens the door wider.
"Well," she sighs, "you might as well come in for a bit and eat something."
"Oh no, that's okay"-
But she's already waving me into her home with an expression that suggests it was an order, not an invitation. I trail her nervously, lured by the smell of something savory and delicious wafting from the kitchen.
"Got a chicken pot pie in." She says, parking herself at her mint-green kitchen table and matching chairs. I select the chair closest to the exit, which makes Pearl chuckle.
"What?"
"First time Georgia and I sat down for a meal, that's the chair she chose too."
It's weird to hear her called by her first name. It sparks something defensive in me, but I swallow it down. Pearl has already hinted that she's suspicious of Blister and I, and I don't want to add any fuel to the fire.
"It's a family trait I think." I nod to her front door. "We like to be ready to bolt."
She chuckles. "You both have that look in your eye too, like a spooked horse." Pearl sobers, lowering her arms to her lap. "Your mother must have done a real number on you."
"She was good to Blister."
"I wasn't talking about her, I was talking about you."
A wall comes up inside me. I stare at her, stone-faced, and shrug. The oven timer goes off. Pearl and I continue to look at each other for a few moments longer, locked in a kind of stalemate before she sighs and heaves herself to her feet.
"This was my mother's recipe. Cash's grandma. We didn't get along so well. Tough lady, but she could be cruel as anything." She slides a plate of the pie across the table towards me. Her dishes have daisy patterns, which I would be admiring intensely if I wasn't so busy salivating over the food. "I never wanted any babies of my own because of it. Figured I was too rotten inside from all the mean words I'd absorbed. Didn't want to pass it along."
I take my first bite and practically melt into the chair. "This is amazing."
She laughs. "I didn't even give you gravy yet! Wait a minute, girl." Her gravy-boat is appropriately shaped like a rooster, and she pours a generous portion over the chicken pot pie. "There you go."
She sits across from me again while I eat ravenously. Somewhere between bites I remember we were having a conversation. "Did you end up having kids?"
Cash hasn't mentioned any cousins, but then again he forgot to tell me Pearl was his aunt, so he might not be the most reliable source of information.
"Had a son. Stillborn."
That freezes me. "I'm so sorry."
She shrugs. "Happens. Fact of life."
"What was his name?"
She smiles, sad and wistful. "People don't ask me that very often. His name was Thomas. I think about him all the time, but I'm lucky. I got two more babies when Cash and Doc were dropped in my lap, and I learned I wasn't rotten inside after all."
"They both speak very highly of you."
"Georgia speaks highly of you." She smiles knowingly. "We don't repeat the mistakes of our parents."
"No," I say, and despite inhaling a huge portion of chicken pot pie and gravy, I feel miraculously lighter, "we don't."
When we're both finished, I get up from the table and do her dishes. She protests, but I stand my ground. She thanks me with a tender pat on the shoulder, and brings a knitting project into the kitchen so we can sit and chat while we work.
"What was Cash like as a kid?" I ask.
"Morose." Pearl scoffs.
"So nothing's changed?"
She barks a laugh. "Not so much, no. He was only nine when he lost his Mama, and him and Doc were passed over to me immediately. My brother was in no condition to look after them. Couldn't even look after himself after his Old Lady died."
"He must have really loved her."
"Madly. Stupidly, maybe. They met and were married in a month."
"God." I mutter.
"You'd better watch out, Cash is just like him."
I nearly drop the plate I'm scrubbing and wheel to face her. "Oh, we're not"-
She looks up at me, reading glasses sliding down her nose to perfectly frame her skepticism. "Don't be ridiculous, girl. We can all see it."
Well. That's that.
"Cash was always getting into scraps and coming home lip all bloodied." She sighs. "Doc would bandage him up, thank goodness. I can't tell you the number of times he came home with some wounded or abandoned animal."
I snort. "Good practice for finding me in the garage, I'll bet."
I remember him holding me upright against his truck when my vision went dark, insisting that Doc would come take a look at me immediately in his gruff, but concerned way. Heat creeps up my neck. I clear my throat and drain the sink.
"He doesn't always think things through, but his decision to help you and Georgia out is one I'll always be proud of him for."
I dry my hands on one of her worn pink tea towels and watch her for a moment, absorbed with her project.
"Think she'll like it?" Pearl holds up the knitting, a baby blue vest with white trim. It'll suit Blister.
Even though that feeling bubbles up within me again, that near-jealousy that Pearl has become Blister's parental figure, I smile at the woman.
"She'll love it."
From Pearl's front door all the way to the car I feel good, better for the meal and the conversation. I check my phone as I'm getting into the car and find a message from Cash.
Get to safehouse. Now.
~~~
He's on the porch when I pull up, and he sweeps me into a fierce hug the moment I'm out of the Corolla. He glances up the road to check that I wasn't followed, then he proceeds to manhandle me inside the front door.
"Cash, what's going on?"
"It's your trailer." He says, locking the door behind us and shutting the blinds. "Someone set fire to it last night. I got the call an hour ago."
"Oh." I try to swallow the reaction, the panic in my gut. "Is it - is it okay?"
His gaze softens and a pit opens up in my stomach. "Dallas"-
I wave him off. "It's okay. We got out the important stuff. You think it was Hoyt's guys?"
He watches me carefully for a moment before nodding. "We still don't know why. Maybe he's been watching the place and realized you moved, maybe he suspects you did something with that key, but either way he's sending a message."
"Does Blister know yet?"
"No."
"I should tell her myself. She's at some study group. I'll go pick her up and explain."
He shifts uncomfortably on his feet. "Dallas, you can't. I'm sorry. It's not a good time. If Hoyt's guys burned your place down, that means they're probably looking for wherever you've holed up. You gotta lay low."
I nod tightly, something in my ribcage aches. "Okay. That's okay."
"As soon as it seems clear, I'll take you to her myself."
"Okay."
"Dallas"-
"What?" I snap, discomfort building within me.
There is nowhere for us to go. This club - these people - they're the only option we have left. Of course I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that we could never return to the trailer if I moved against Hoyt, but I thought I had time to process that loss. I thought I had time to build us a home that was separate from Hoyt or the Black Spades before we lost the only one we'd ever known. The trailer had been home for the entirety of my life. Blister was born on the shower floor.
"Are you alright?" He's close now.
My eyes begin to water unexpectedly. I turn away from him. "Fine. Excuse me."
I dart into the spare room, not sure what I'm doing. I don't want to be seen like this, that much I know, but the door opens and he's standing behind me in the next instant.
"Cash"- I start to tell him off, to tell him to leave, but I stop.
He doesn't say anything, just opens his arms and beckons me over. Resigned, I step into his embrace, bury my face in his shoulder and begin to cry. I inhale the smell of him, the leather and whiskey. His palm rubs soothingly across my shoulders.
"Are you alright, Dallas?"
"It's fine. It's not like it was a nice place. For most of my life it wasn't even a happy place."
"But it was still your home." He sighs and I feel it hot against my hair. "What can I do? Tell me what I can do."
I tilt my head up to look at him. "Let me sleep on the couch."
"Dallas"- He groans, "you can't be serious."
"Please? I know it's weird. I just want to feel like I'm at home again." Granted the couch in the trailer was smaller and rattier than the one in the safehouse, but it'll do. For tonight, I don't want to think about the arson and what it means. I don't want to think about Hoyt. I want to close my eyes and pretend I'm back in the only home I've ever known, listening to clinking beer bottles and crackling bonfires, or the sounds of Blister dreaming.
Cash's eyes soften. "Alright. Get changed. Let's put a movie on or something."
~~~
When I wake up hours later, the room is dark. The TV is still on, playing whichever cop procedural came on when Die Hard 2 was over. Cash is pressed up behind me, snoring in my ear, his arm slung around my waist. I reach for his hand in the dark and give it a squeeze, then drift off to sleep again.
///