Dead Highways: Origins (3 page)

“Sorry,” Aamod said in his thick Indian accent. “Store is closed. No more hot dog.”

“We don’t want a hot dog,” I said, looking at my watch. It was ten p.m. on the dot.

Peaches sighed. “Look, I just need a pack of cigarettes.”

“And there are other stores.”

Over to our left, Aamod’s daughter Naima sat in the passenger seat of a silver Toyota sedan. She worked at the store with her father. Even through the tint, I could see she was staring at me. God knows I had stared at her more times than I could count. She was a few years younger than me, and way out of my league. I felt sorry for whatever guy
was
in her league though, as Aamod would likely make that poor guy’s life a living hell.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Peaches pleaded.

“No is no,” Aamod said. “Now run along. Or I call the police. Okay?”

Peaches and I began to walk back across the street. “What an asshole,” she finally said.

I nodded. “He can be . . . difficult sometimes.”

When we got back to the bookstore, Peaches said, “Well, I guess I should head on home.”

“Husband waiting on you?”

She shook her head. “I’m not married. Almost happened once. These days it’s hard to find a guy who wants to be with a gal like me. I suppose if he had enough money I could be swayed.”

“You said you live close by.”

“Yeah, a few blocks from here, in Shady Villas.”

“The trailer park.”

She smiled. “That’s the one. Don’t be jealous or anything.”

I smiled.

“It was nice meeting you, Jimmy.”

“Yeah . . .”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want her to leave. For once, I didn’t feel awkward talking to a girl, especially one with such large breasts. She made me feel comfortable in my own skin, and for that, I wanted to make her happy. I wanted her to stay in my life just a little longer.

She began to walk away.

“Wait,” I said. She turned around. “I don’t have a cigarette, but I have something else.”

She gave me a curious look.

“Hold on,” I said, and went back inside the store.

When I returned, I had the joint cupped in my hand. I opened it so she could see.

“You’ve been holding out on me. So you just don’t smoke cigarettes then?”

“No, I don’t smoke anything. Somebody gave me this. Do you want it?”

“How ‘bout we share it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on.” She stepped closer to me and looked up into my eyes. “I wanna be your first time.”

Yeah, that made me blush. “I really shouldn’t.”

“You’ll be okay, I promise. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. You’ll see.”

She talked me into smoking it with her. Then she talked me into smoking it with her inside the bookstore. She could have talked me into anything, I think. But if I was going to do it, I didn’t want to do it outside where we could be seen. No chance grandma would wake up either; she could barely hear anything when she was awake.

After digging up some matches, we sat Indian style on the floor in the back corner near the romance section. She lit up the joint and took a long drag.

Then it was my turn.

After a few failed attempts, she showed me how to properly inhale. And then I coughed my lungs out.

She laughed and took the joint from me. “What do you think?”

“I think I don’t feel anything.”

“Give it time.”

Ten minutes later, my world turned magical. I felt like Gandalf after a long day of spell casting.

I was so high.

And from that moment on, I knew my life would never be the same. For the first time, I felt like I understood my place in the world. Every color was brighter. Every shape more defined. The world was at my fingertips. I could
be
anything.
Do
anything. I had the power. I was He-Man.

I was so high.

The high went away less than an hour later, and I slowly returned to my senses. I guess with this scrawny body I’d make a lousy He-Man anyway. But still we sat there and talked for another hour, laughing at how ridiculous some of the romance titles were on a nearby shelf.

Bunking Down with the Boss.

Daddy Long Stroke.

Nick All Night.

Then Peaches told me her life story. She told me she was from Kentucky. She told me how she followed a man down here after dropping out of high school. How they got engaged. How he ended up cheating on her with multiple,
skanky-assed
women. How she sold the ring he got her at a pawnshop for a hundred dollars, and then blew all the money at the dog track on a greyhound named Last Place Finish. How she had thought the name was just a joke. How she bought the trailer in Shady Villas from a nice man with one leg and two teeth. But she never told me the one thing I should have known at the time.

No.

I had to hear it from a big dumb redneck who called himself Bad Moses.

The very next day.

The next morning, to be more accurate.

10:08 a.m. to be exact.

I knew from the moment he walked into the store that he wasn’t there to buy the latest Danielle Steele novel.

He was well over six feet tall and built like an ox. Early forties, I’d say. He wore an old pair of blue jeans, a sleeveless T-shirt with stains all over it, and a Pennzoil motor oil hat that he’d probably bought out of a vending machine at some truck stop. Oh, and let me tell you about his mullet. He had one. Even under the goofy hat, you could easily tell.

He wasn’t a reader, that much was obvious. He could only have come in for one reason.

“You owe me some money,” he said.

Okay, never mind. I was wrong. I figured he was there about Peaches.

“What money?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy.” He slammed his big claw-like hands down on the counter and snarled down at me. “You know damn well what money.”

Grandma sat in the back corner pricing some new books that had arrived earlier that morning. She didn’t notice anything was wrong. She didn’t even look up. Not that I was expecting her to rescue me.

“Um, refresh my memory. Who are you?”

“I’m your worst nightmare.”

“A clown with no makeup?”

“You gettin’ smart with me?”

“No, sir.”

“People in Shady Villas call me Bad Moses. I believe you were with one of my fruit last night.”

“Your fruit, Mr. Moses?”

“Peaches.”

Oh, wrong again. He
was
there about Peaches.

Shit shit shit.

“So you must be her husband then. Sir, I promise you we didn’t do anything. Just talked.”

He smirked, showing off his crooked teeth. “Just talked, huh.” He looked over at my grandma, smirked again, and then looked back at me. “You know I’d hate to embarrass you in front of the old lady, but I will if I have to. My money.
Now!
”

“What do I owe you money for?”

“You really think I’m dumb, don’t you?”

I wasn’t gonna answer that. Not if I wanted to keep all my teeth.

“I saw you with Peaches last night. I see everything. I keep a close eye on my fruit.”

“Why do you keep saying . . . your fruit?”

“I name all my girls after fruit. Peaches. Mango. Raspberry.”

“Wait a minute, are you telling me Peaches is a—”

“Of course she is, fucko. And you were with her for a good two hours last night. I hope you enjoyed yourself. I’d say you owe me at least two hundred.”

“Sir, I swear I didn’t know she was a prostitute. All we did was talk.”

“You can stop callin’ me sir, okay. I ain’t your grandpa, and being polite ain’t gonna stop what’s comin’ to ya. Look, I don’t care what you did, kid. I don’t care if y’all sat around reading from these dumb books you got here. You did it on my time, and my time is valuable.”

“But I don’t have two hundred dollars. Would you accept store credit?”

Again he slammed his hands down on the counter. “Do I look like I want store credit?”

“No, no,” I said, trembling, suddenly concerned I might pee my pants. The last time I’d done that was in seventh grade when a Doberman chased me home from the school bus stop. “It’s just, you see, the problem is, this store doesn’t make much money. And I don’t think it’s fair that I should have to pay when I swear to God I didn’t know.”

“Not fair, huh?”

“Go ask her, she never said anything to me.”

“Oh, I’m gonna deal with her. Don’t you worry about that. Right now I’m dealing with you.”

“Look, I promise I’ll never talk to her again. I don’t know what else to say. Please. I’m sorry.” He stood there glaring at me, chewing on his tongue. He didn’t look like much of a thinker, but I prayed he was doing just that. “Please,” I said again. Sweat was gathering around my eyes.

Finally, he pulled back from the counter and sighed. “You really are something else, but you seem like you just might be that fuckin’ stupid. So I’m gonna let you off the hook, just this once.”

“Thank you.” I took a deep breath. My heart was running a triathlon inside my chest.

“But if I catch you so as much lookin’ at one of my girls again, I’m gonna come back here with a baseball bat. Make this store my own personal batting cage. Got it?”

I nodded.

“Have a nice day, kid,” he said before sauntering out of the bookstore.

“Who was your friend, dear?” Grandma asked, looking up from her stack of fresh paperbacks.

“Nobody, grandma,” I replied.

I realized I was still trembling. But I survived, and unlike the time in seventh grade, this time I didn’t pee my pants. I dodged a big, bad dog named Bad Moses.

I wondered if Peaches would be so lucky.

Peaches wasn’t so lucky.

It was obvious Bad Moses had roughed her up. There was some light bruising on her face, scratches on her arms and neck. She had surprised me with her presence. One second I’m sorting some books on the shelf, the next second she’s standing there behind me. This was the day after my meeting with Moses, sometime in the afternoon.

“I’m sorry. I know I should have told you.”

“You can’t be here,” I whispered. Amazingly, we had a customer in the store at that time and I didn’t want them to overhear our conversation. “If he finds out you came here, he’ll kill me. I’m not ready to die.”

I went back to putting books on the shelf.

“It’s not something I’m proud of, you know.”

“I can’t imagine why not.”

“I don’t like talking about it. It’s embarrassing. I just got roped into it because I needed the money.”

“Oh, believe me, I get it. In fact, the bookstore isn’t doing very well lately, so I was thinking of asking my grandma to find a nice street corner to work.” I continued to file books on the shelf. I didn’t want to look at her face. “Know of any good ones, Peaches?”

“Fuck you.”

“You probably would for the right amount of money. I hear you go for around two hundred these days.”

She turned away from me. I immediately wished I could take it back. I tried to continue working. After a moment, I gave in.

“Look, I’m sorry about what I said. I just wish you would have told me.”

She had her head down, her bouncy blonde curls falling across her face. “And if I had you wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me, right?”

I couldn’t answer because I didn’t want to hurt her anymore. She’d been hurt by enough men in her life.

Still, I should have lied. I should have told her that wasn’t true. Even though it was.

After I didn’t respond, she raised her head and looked up into my eyes, melted my cold soul with that look, and then said, “I thought you were different, Jimmy.”

And began walking away.

“Wait . . .” I called out.

But this time she kept on going.

For the rest of the day, I moped around the store feeling like the biggest asshole in the world. For once, I felt bad for Mel Gibson. Must be tough feeling that way all the time.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation I had with Peaches. There was a lot I wished I could say to her, but I knew it was probably better this way. We were worlds apart, after all. Words wouldn’t change anything.

I wasn’t too worried about Bad Moses, either. If he came back then I guess I’d have my own scars to show for it. For being such an idiot. And maybe I deserved them.

The only thing that could put a smile on my face and take my mind off things was
The Walking Dead.
The show was coming back from winter break, season two, and I couldn’t wait to see what was gonna happen after the incident with Sophia in the barn.

I said goodnight to grandma and headed to my room. After preparing a nice bowl of chocolate ice cream, I settled into bed and turned on the TV.

An hour later, I sat there in my pajamas feeling excited. No, not
that
kind of excitement. The show had ended with Rick’s wife Lori hitting a zombie and flipping her car. I had hoped she might be dead.

I crossed my fingers and turned off the lights.

I dreamt of how I would handle things in the event of an apocalypse, and what crazy personality disorders would infect my group.

An hour later, I was back up.

Somebody was downstairs in the bookstore, I realized, lying in bed and listening, hearing the sound of breaking glass and various thumps and crashes. I had an idea who the
somebody
might be.

I hopped out of bed and felt around in the dark for the light switch. I always kept the door to the stairs locked in the unlikely event that some psycho from the trailer park up the road would break in and make the bookstore his own personal batting cage. But I never thought it would actually happen.

I called 911 and ten minutes later there was a knock on the staircase door.

It was the police, said a man from the other side.

I was greeted by a black cop who introduced himself as Officer Robbie Robinson. He looked like Carl Winslow from that old sitcom,
Family Matters.
I immediately felt safer.

I knocked on grandma’s door, told her to get dressed and come downstairs.

“Cosmic bears?” she asked.

“COME DOWNSTAIRS, Grandma,” I yelled. “And make it quick. The police are here.”

Officer Robinson gave me a funny look.

“She’s a little—”

“Old,” he interjected.

“I was gonna say hard of hearing, but old will work too.”

“I understand.”

I followed Officer Robinson downstairs to the bookstore and was immediately transported into a place much different than the one I had left the previous evening. All that hard work I had done sorting all the new books onto the shelf was just wasted time. New and old, all of the books in the store were scattered on the floor like firewood. Everywhere. It was impossible to walk from one side to the other without stepping on them. I picked up a hardback copy of Stephen King’s
Firestarter.
The cover was wet with something. I brought it up to my nose to smell it, praying it wasn’t urine.

Officer Robinson stopped me and said, “It’s gasoline. Whoever did this planned on torching the place. I guess they forgot the matches.”

I threw the book back into the pile. “Lucky me.”

By this time, Grandma was downstairs, and Officer Robinson began explaining to her what had happened. I was afraid she might have a heart attack; she didn’t appear to be taking the news all that well. A couple more police officers had also arrived and were examining the broken front glass window. On the ground amidst the big shards of glass was a baseball bat.

Fuck.

I wanted to blame Kevin. If he’d never given me that damn joint, none of this would have happened. But then if I had never given him that ugly coat . . .

Stupid butterfly effect.

No, I couldn’t blame anyone else. Not Kevin. Not Peaches. This was my fault. I mostly felt bad for my grandma. I knew how much she loved the bookstore, and because of my actions, we might have to close up shop. She’d be okay financially. She still had her social security, and would probably get some money from the insurance company. On the other hand, I’d have to get a job bagging groceries or asking people if they’d like to supersize it, and I guess that would be my punishment for causing all this mess.

I carefully stepped back behind the counter where my grandma and Officer Robinson stood. I put my arm around my grandma.

“Any idea who may have done this?” Officer Robinson asked me. “Any enemies we need to know about?”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to say anything in front of grandma, didn’t want to scare her anymore than she already was.

“It just seems like whoever did this went way out of their way to destroy your property. This wasn’t just some everyday robbery or vandalism. It’s not often we see people robbing used bookstores anyway. Do you know how much money you had in the safe?”

“They took the safe?” I checked behind the counter. Yep, the bastard pried the safe off the cabinet it was hidden inside and took it with him.

“Not much,” my grandma replied. “Maybe a few hundred dollars.”

A few hundred. The price of Peaches. I should have just given Moses what he wanted and called it a day.

“We’ll dust for fingerprints. I’m sure we’ll catch whoever did this in no time.”

Officer Robinson joined the other cops examining the exterior premises. I got a chair for my grandma and had her sit down.

“What’s gonna happen, Jimmy?”

I rubbed her shoulder. “Everything will be fine. Don’t worry.”

“How are we supposed to go on?”

I noticed tears beginning to well up in her eyes. The last time I’d seen my grandma cry was at Grandpa George’s funeral ten years ago. I was just a twelve-year-old kid then getting my first pubic hairs, and she’d asked me that same question.
How are we supposed to go on?
In either case, I had no idea what to say. Seeing her on the edge of tears broke my heart. She was the nicest lady in the world; she didn’t deserve such an idiot for a grandson.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you, grandma. Somehow, I’ll make it up to you.”

When Robinson came back inside, I met him halfway. “I wasn’t totally honest with you before,” I said.

“About what?”

“About not having any enemies. I didn’t want my grandma to be worried, but I know who did this.”

I told him about the night I met Peaches, about the altercation the next day with Bad Moses. The only thing I left out was the part where I smoked marijuana. There are some things you never ever tell the police.

“He’s been arrested a few times,” Robinson said, referring to Bad Moses. “That Shady Villas is a shady place.” He stepped past me and addressed my grandma in a softer tone. “Dolores, I might recommend moving locations if I were you. This area isn’t exactly full of saints these days.”

“Move? But I’ve been here almost thirty years.”

“I understand. Trust me, I do. But we’ve had a lot of problems with prostitution and drugs in this area, and it doesn’t look like much is going to change anytime soon. At the very least, I’d consider getting an alarm system installed. Maybe put bars on the windows.” He turned toward me. “Or perhaps, getting a firearm.”

“No, I won’t have a gun around,” my grandma replied. “George had guns and they always made me nervous.”

“George was my grandfather,” I said.

Officer Robinson nodded. “Believe it or not, I don’t like guns much either, but sometimes they’re necessary as a last resort.” Grandma looked like she wasn’t paying any attention. Perhaps she hadn’t heard a word he’d said. He looked back at me. “Just something to think about,” he said, and then rejoined his uniformed buddies.

And think about it I did, like Lionel Richie.

All.

Night.

Long.

Until the next morning, the day before Valentine’s Day, when I decided it wouldn’t hurt to go have a look around. There was a gun store not too far from the bookstore. Guns Unlimited, it was called. Yeah, sure, I’d have a look around, that’s all. I never thought for a second I’d actually
buy
a gun, let alone fall in love.

But that’s exactly what happened.

I fell in love with a gun named Sally.