I STOOD OUTSIDE the pharmacy, waiting for Vee to use the ATM inside as I smoked my third to last cigarette. Once I reached the end of it, I set it in the metal ash tray on top of the green trash bin. As the cigarette smoldered, I walked back over to the building and leaned against the white-painted cement wall. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest for warmth. A single car trundled down the street in front of me, passing the parking lot and turning left at the next intersection. Other than that, the town was dead. Wind tore though it like a reaper during the harvest.
The automatic door to the shop groaned open with a mechanical wheeze. Warm air plumed out, offering a few seconds of relief from the cold.
"Hey," I said, turning to Vee as she came out.
"Sorry for taking so long." She pushed her hair out of her face as the wind tugged at it. "The ATM would only give me a maximum of four hundred dollars. I had to buy a stick of gum and get cash back for the other thirty."
I shoved my hand into the back pocket of my jeans, reaching for my wallet. "Thanks," I said lowly.
She frowned at me, still holding the wad of twenties in her hand. "What are you doing with it, Harper?" she finally asked. "It's a lot of money. Not just that... it's specific. You and Jeremey, when you came to the shop the other day, what were you two getting into?"
I breathed out heavily between my teeth. The cold air stung them like biting into ice cream. "I don't want to tell you too much." I didn't want to involve anyone else in this more than I had to. Asking Vee for money was going too far as it was, but I was at a loss for other options.
"What are you buying?" she asked. "It's my money, and it doesn't sit right with me, just giving it to you like this. I need to know."
I looked away from her for a moment, staring at the still-smoking cigarette in the ash tray. "It was arson," I finally said. "What happened to Jeremey... the fire. I don't want to tell you too much, but I think I'm in danger." I paused, exhaling heavily and shuddering. "I need a gun." I didn't bother to lie anymore. Vee knew something was up—twisting the truth around any more than I needed to would only lead to trouble. "For protection," I finally added.
She let out a heavy breath, averting her eyes from mine and staring down at the cracked cement. Finally, she nodded once and looked back up at me. "Okay," she said lowly. "Okay." She held out her hand, and I took the cash, quickly placing it in my wallet. "Please, be careful."
"I will."
• • •
I flipped down the car visor and glared at myself in the mirror, practicing my best don't-fuck-with-me face. Red capillaries stood out around my dark blue irises, but it was no surprise. I hadn't really slept last night. I hadn't shaved in a day either. My appetite had been poor at best and nonexistent at worst since Lydia left, and the weight loss was not insignificant. All in all, I figured I looked pretty grim.
Flipping the visor back up, I opened the door to my car. The wind attempted to slam it shut on my face, but I was prepared and held it as I got out. Trying my best not to limp and partially succeeding, I headed up to the porch of the beige ranch house. I knocked on the thin wood door with the back of my fist. I could hear movement inside, so I took a step back, putting both hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt. I leaned my weight on my good leg and stared at the dead plant in the cracked ceramic pot next to me as I waited.
Finally, the door swung open. "Hey, Rick," I greeted him before he could say a word.
He looked shocked to see me, blinking and stretching his eyes wide. He took a half step back, remaining behind the white, hip-high plastic fence that blocked off the doorway. It was the type that people use for children or pets. I'd seen the guy a couple of times in passing over the past year, but I hadn't been to his house in ages. He was probably trying to figure out how I even knew where he lived.
"Harper?" he said. "Jesus, man you look like hell." He scratched his dark brown beard and adjusted the cap on his head. Little tufts of brown hair stuck out from under the knit beanie.
"Thanks, Rick," I replied, holding my face down in a scowl.
"Sorry, listen are you all right?" He frowned, genuinely concerned. "I heard about Jeremey. It's horrible what happened. I can't even imagine. I mean, maybe a cigarette or something that wasn't put out right..."
"It was arson," I interrupted him. "And I'm not here to chat. I need you to call that guy Kurt or whatever his name is."
"Look man, I appreciate you coming over here to let me know, but I already called him to cancel when I found out this morning." Rick shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
"Call him again," I said.
"Harper..."
"Call him again, Rick. I have the cash."
Rick sighed heavily. A dog barked within the house, and he looked behind himself, searching for something that could serve as a distraction. Probably hoping I would go away.
I won't say that Rick was afraid of me, but based on our most recent interaction about a year ago, he probably thought I was at least a little bit out of my head. We'd all been hanging out at Jeremey's place one night, smoking and drinking and all. Rick and I had never really gotten along well, but that night Rick said something to me about Lydia. I'd been a bit too fucked up at the time, and I lost my mind.
Next thing I knew, Jeremey was holding me back and I was threatening him with a knife. Needless to say, Rick got the fuck out of there, and Jeremey spent the next two hours trying to calm me down as I proceeded to have a panic attack. After that, Jeremey'd recommended that I keep my distance from Rick, which I'd done. Rick had done the same with me. Jeremey barely associated with him after that either, only when he had to.
"Rick," I drew his attention back to me. "I need the gun."
"Harper, why don't you just calm down. Maybe come inside? We could smoke something. Might help you take the edge off..."
"I am calm," I told him. "I don't need to calm down. I need a gun."
"What are you planning?" Rick asked lowly, shifting his eyes back and forth, as though he were checking to make sure no one was overhearing our conversation.
"It's for protection," I said, which was half true. "The guy that got Jeremey is after me now. I have the cash, Rick, just call Kurt back."
Rick eyed me one more time, probably assessing me to see how out of my mind I really was. He didn't trust me, but I didn't need to make him like me. I just needed him to make one call.
"Fine," Rick finally said. "I'll call him. Just... don't do anything stupid, Harper, for God's sake. I know you're upset, but don't get yourself into trouble, man."
"I won't do anything stupid. Like I said, it's just for protection."
He nodded once, and I stood outside and waited while he made the call. He stepped further into the house so I couldn't overhear the conversation, but he left the door open. I watched him pace back and forth as he spoke on his cell phone. He stopped in front of the kitchen table and absently sifted through a stack of magazines and other assorted papers. His dog, which looked a bit like a German Shepherd, came up to the door. It snarled at me and barked. I hissed at it like a cat.
"Max!" Rick shouted from across the hall. "Cool it!"
The dog whined once and then scampered off into the adjacent room. I leaned against the wooden post holding up the awning to take some of the weight off my ankle.
"All right," Rick said, approaching the door again as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Eight tomorrow night. He's going to be at the ravine behind the post office."
"Thanks." I stood up straight again.
"Make sure you have the cash with you," he warned me.
"I'm not an idiot." I glared at him.
Rick frowned. "All right then." The dog barked from within the house again, and he looked behind himself. "I've got to get back to things." He started to swing the front door closed. "I guess I'll see you around."
The door clicked shut with the recognizable clunk of a lock, leaving me standing out on the porch, cold and alone in the wind.
I considered spitting into the dead potted plant, but then decided better of it. Instead, I turned on my heels and walked back to my car. I swung the door open, battling against the wind, and got in. I turned the key in the ignition and the engine rumbled to life.
When the dashboard lit up, I checked the time. Four in the afternoon. I placed my hand on the shifter and put the car in drive. It was getting late and I had places to go, people to see and things to do. The gun wasn't my plan—it was my backup.
I had other things in mind for my dearest Uncle Joshua.