Jackrabbit Junction Jitters (11 page)

Manny rattled out a stream of Spanish, swearing with both
single and double rolled r’s.

They’d set the boys, sending them backwards four points and
winning the game. Claire leaned across the table, grabbed Mac by the cheeks,
and planted a big, wet kiss on his mouth.

“Knock it off, horny toads.” Chester grunted and scooted
back from the table. “Just because Mac said he loves you doesn’t mean you need
to give us a demonstration.”

Sirens pealed in Claire’s head. She fell back onto her
chair, her gaze frozen on Mac. As she watched, his jaw clenched, and then a
vein began to pulse above his left eye.

“You’re just jealous,” Manny said, seemingly unaware that
Claire’s happy-go-lucky world had just been flipped.

“Who’s jealous?” asked Gramps as he stepped through the
curtain. Ruby followed, her cheeks flushed and her hair a little messier than
before.

Mac pushed his chair back and rose to his feet, his lips now
thin and tight.

“Mac.” Claire scrambled to her feet. “I didn’t …” she didn’t
know how to finish. Damn Kate and her big-ass mouth! Gramps would have kept
this to himself, understanding men much more than her freaking sister.

“Apparently, you must have,” Mac said. “Because now it’s
public knowledge.”

Manny grinned at Gramps. “Where’s the jailbird?”

“I dropped her and her mom off at my R.V. Deborah was giving
Kate the third degree, and I was tired of hearing it.”

“So, who won?” Ruby asked Mac, sliding up next to him.

“We did.” He turned his back to Claire. “I’m going to hit
the sack,” he told Ruby, dropped a peck on her cheek, and left, taking the steps
two at a time.

“Who plays next?” Gramps took Mac’s empty seat.

Claire didn’t wait around to hear Chester or Manny’s answer.
She chased after Mac, catching up with him outside the spare bedroom.

“Mac, wait.” She huffed, slightly breathless from racing up
the steps with a belly full of beer and pretzels.

He paused in the dark doorway, not looking back.

“It’s not like it seems.” Reaching out, she tentatively
touched his back.

His muscles tightened under her fingers. “Really? So you
didn’t tell somebody else what I said to you the other morning in the privacy
of our bedroom?”

“Well, yes, but …” Her cheeks burned with guilt. She glanced
over her shoulder, wondering if Jess was lurking around the corner. “Listen,
can we go in the bedroom and discuss this behind a closed door?”

There were too many ears around this place, and Claire was
already zero for three on keeping secrets.

Mac’s eyes were shrouded when he turned to her. Shadows
defined his cheekbones. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have a way of distracting me, especially when
you start removing your clothes. Maybe it’d be best if you spent another night
in the R.V. with your mom and sister.” He flicked on the light and backed into
the room. “Sleep tight, Claire. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“Mac, come on.”

“Or your mother.” With his lips flat-lined, he shut the
door.

* * *

Kate rubbed her eyes and dropped onto the couch. She wanted
nothing more than to nestle all snug in her bed while visions of cell bars
slipped from her head.

The R.V. smelled like baked plastic. The heat that had built
up during the day seeped slowly out through the windows Kate had opened after
Gramps had dropped her off. She could hear the tinkling of Manny’s wind chimes
every now and then above the racket the frogs were making down by the creek.

Ten minutes under Gramps’s shower had washed the musty,
locker room smell of the police station from her skin and hair, but no amount
of water could rinse off the layer of shame and humiliation that now coated her
from head to toe. If Kate ever saw Butch again, she’d run and hide under the
nearest cactus.

Henry finished chomping down his dinner and walked over to
her. He rubbed his snout against her leg and whined quietly.

Smiling, she patted his head. At least someone still liked
her. With a grunt, he dropped onto his belly at her feet.

Kicking off her old Snoopy slippers, she fell back onto her
pillow. The soft cotton sheet underneath her felt cool against the back of her
legs. Kate hummed softly, trying to block out the sound of her mom brushing her
teeth in the bathroom.

If she heard one more peep out of Deborah about how
embarrassing it’d been to walk into that police station in broad daylight, Kate
was going to shave her eyebrows and join a cult.

But worse than the lecture Deborah had been cramming down
Kate’s throat was the lack of comment from Gramps. The few looks he’d shot her
in the rearview mirror on the way home had made her feel nine years old—fresh
from the principal’s office after fighting on the school bus. With each passing
milepost, she had slumped deeper into Mabel’s leather embrace, wishing she
could slip down between the seats and curl into a ball in the trunk.

Kate couldn’t wait to close her eyes and make it all go away.
She clapped her hands twice, and the overhead light turned off. Ah, sweet,
nonjudgmental darkness.

She heard her mother emerge from the bathroom and shut the
bedroom door behind her. Apparently, there’d be no “goodnight, dear” from her
mom tonight. Thank God for the silent treatment.

Breathing deeply, Kate focused on relaxing her legs, then
her lower back, her arms, her fing …

The front door banged open. The smack of the aluminum into
the wall triggered the Clapper.

Kate popped up like a whack-a-mole, blinking in the light.

Henry jumped up, growling.

Claire stood just inside the threshold, her face stony, eyes
flaming.

“Christ, Claire.” Kate sank back against cushions. “You
scared the crap out of me.”

“Good!” Claire shut the door so hard that Gramps’s singing
bass fish fell off the wall and crashed to the floor. The lights went off
again.

“What the hell is your problem?” Kate clapped the lights
back on. She was the one who’d sat in the Mayberry jail all afternoon while
Deputy Dipshit dug the dirt and sock lint out from under his toenails.

“My problem,” Claire kicked off her flip-flops, “is your
freakin’ mouth.”

Kate’s neck and cheeks warmed. She’d already caught plenty
of fire and brimstone from her mom about her fictitious accident report. She
didn’t need Claire jumping on that bandwagon, too.

“Well, take a number and get in line, because today you’re
one of many. And while you’re waiting, you can kiss my ass.” Kate flopped onto
her pillow and rolled over, turning her back to Claire. She clapped twice. Darkness
surrounded her again.

A pillow hit her in the back.

“Knock it off, Claire. I still owe you for this morning.”

One of the rectangular foam cushions from the bench seats
smacked her on the hip.

“Don’t make me get off this couch and kick your butt.”

A balled up dish towel whopped her in the back of the head.

“Damn it, Claire!” Kate grabbed the towel and whipped it
back at her sister. “Go sleep with Mac.”

“I’d love to, but you screwed that up by flapping your lips.”

Kate flipped onto her back, frowning up at the shadows
flickering across the ceiling. “How exactly did trying to lie my way out of
getting a ticket after slamming my car into Butch’s truck interfere with your
stupid love life?”

“This isn’t about your accident. I’m talking about you
blabbing to Chester and Manny that Mac said he loves me.”

“And when did I have time to do that?” She looked over at
Claire, who sat on the table, her eyes reflecting the light seeping in through
the closed mini-blinds. “In case you’ve forgotten, I was sitting on a piss-stained
mattress behind bars most of the afternoon. What do you think? I used my one
quarter to call Manny and gab about Mac and you?”

“Well, when you put it that way, no.” The fire had fizzled
from Claire’s tone. Now she just sounded tired. The table creaked. “Damn
Gramps. How am I going to fix this mess?”

“Welcome to my world.” Kate rubbed her temples. “Hang up
your saddle and roll a smoke with me, why don’t ya?”

“God, I’d sell a kidney right now for a cigarette.” The
table creaked again in the darkness. “So what’s the story with your car being
listed as stolen?”

“Apparently, my ex, Gary—you remember him, the one who tried
to shoplift a tennis racket and told the clerk that he wasn’t stealing, he was
just happy to see her?”

“Yeah, I remember Gary.” Claire chuckled. “He five-fingered
my snow globe of the Mitchell Corn Palace and super-glued it to the dashboard
of his 1975 Pinto to up its resale value.”

“Well, he got stopped for speeding while driving my car
about nine months ago, but apparently he couldn’t find the registration in the
glove box. Even though he was let off with just a ticket, the cop listed my car
as stolen. Gary was supposed to take my registration in and have the flag
removed, but he never did, and he never told me about any of this either.”

Claire scoffed. “It took six hours to figure that out?”

“Yep. Between miscommunication, no communication, and then
an overload of convoluted communication, the sheriff wouldn’t let me go until
everything came out spot-free. It seems they had some problems with stolen
vehicles in the last few months, and now they like to use a magnifying glass
when a pair of bifocals would work fine.”

Kate let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “First, I smash my
car, then I get hauled off to jail for six hours, and as a final reward, my
insurance agent gives me my walking papers after hearing about the accident.”
Butch had insisted she go through her insurance company, damn it.

“Shit. They are going to pay for the damages, right?”

“Yes, but I’m going to have to find a new carrier to cover
me for the drive home.” Kate sighed. “I picked a hell of a time to quit my job.”

Someone clapped twice, and the light flickered on.

Kate shielded her eyes.

“What do you mean you quit your job?” Deborah’s voice squeaked
like pieces of Styrofoam rubbing together.

Kate winced and slid down her pillow. Damn it. She’d been so
focused on reliving the day’s events that she hadn’t heard the sound of the
bedroom door opening.

Deborah marched over to the couch, hands planted on her
hips, and glared down at Kate. “Quitting is not part of the ten-year plan we
put together.”

“You mean the plan you put together,” Claire said dryly.

“Don’t you start with me.” Deborah pointed a well-manicured
fingernail at Claire. “You’re still in the dog house.”

“What did I do?” Claire rose from her seat on the table.

“It’s not what you did, but what you haven’t done yet.”

“Huh?”

“Neither of you realize how important it is to be able to
take care of yourself.”

Sitting up, Kate frowned up at her mom. “What are you
talking about? We’ve been taking care of ourselves for years.”

Deborah sneered down at her. “You call jumping from man to
man or job to job taking care of yourself?”

Kate pressed back into the cushions as her mom loomed over
her. “Maybe.” She shot a help-me glance at Claire.

“Well, it’s not. Each of you needs to find a nice man with a
good-sized house, a hefty bank account, and a retirement plan that doesn’t
involve winning the lotto.”

Claire closed the distance between them. “Mom—”

“You’ve both had plenty of time to get your act together and
line up your ducks.” Deborah’s nostrils were flared, her cheeks rosy. All she
needed was a pulpit. “But neither of you have paid attention to one word of
advice I’ve given. I can see now that the only way you two are going to have secure
futures is with my guidance.”

With a groan, Kate buried her face in a couch cushion. The
last time she’d seen that determined glint in her mother’s eyes, Kate had ended
up in grad school chasing a degree she wasn’t sure she wanted.

“Listen, Moth—” Claire started again, her tone strong.

“And I’m going to start with you.” Deborah whirled on
Claire. “First, we need to find you a nice dress, a pretty sunhat, and a decent
pair of sandals. Then we’ll get to work on doing something with that hair of
yours.”

* * *

Saturday, August 14th

“Morning, darlin’,” Ruby said to Mac as he sat down at the
kitchen table. She stood barefoot at the stove in a yellow checkered blouse and
faded blue jeans, a spatula in one hand and an oven mitt on the other, her
smile welcoming. Eggs spit and sputtered in the frying pan in front of her.

“You hungry?” she asked.

“Definitely.” The smell of freshly cooked bacon filled the
house. He’d woken up chewing on his pillow.

The dinner plate-sized thermometer nailed to one of the
clothesline posts outside the window showed eighty-seven degrees already—a good
day to play around in a big wormhole in the ground. Ruby’s new air conditioner
chugged away in the next room, keeping this part of the house cool.

“Thanks,” Mac said as Ruby handed him a plate of fried eggs,
buttered toast, and crispy bacon. Taking the chair opposite him, she plunked
down two mugs of coffee.

“Where are Harley and Jess?” He splashed some Tabasco sauce
on his eggs. Besides the rattling of dishes in the sink, he hadn’t heard a peep
in the house this morning.

“Harley drove Chester to Yuccaville for parts to fix Chester’s
generator.” Ruby paused to sip her coffee. “Jess is still sleeping; at least
she was when I looked in on her a bit ago. She didn’t get home from babysittin’
last night until two.”

Good, both were out of the picture. Mac had spent half the
night missing Claire’s soft curves and sleepy murmurs, even though he was still
ticked at her for running her mouth. The rest of the night he’d tossed and
turned, stressing about Ruby.

“I’m worried about your burglar coming back.” He dipped a
piece of toast in a slightly runny egg yolk.