The Queen of Everything (31 page)

"A dead body," Kale said. "Mark that off on
your Auto Bingo." He chuckled. Then he looked over at me. "Oh, shit," he
said.

I guess I was sobbing. What I saw was Wes
D'Angelo at his mailbox that day I rode my bike over there. Thinking he heard
someone in his own bushes. Knowing something was wrong and not wanting to
believe it. That startled look; the

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same look I imagined he wore when my father
surprised him in his driveway with his own gun. Coming home that night and
standing in his own driveway, coming home to his sons like every man had a right
to do. My own shame overpowered me. I felt as if I killed Wes D'Angelo
myself.

Your mind can accept only so much horror and
then it starts to shudder and shut down; I found that out. I thought I might
have to throw up. We inched past the scene, putting the spinning red lights and
the street that looked shiny from wetness behind us. I rolled down my window,
tried to gulp fresh air, but instead breathed the stinky exhaust from the truck
in front of us. I gasped, wiped my eyes on my arm. "Oh boy," I
breathed.

"You're not gonna puke in my car, are you? Let
me know if you're gonna puke." Kale took quick side glances at me.

"I'm okay," I said. "I'm all right."

"You know, I'm getting a bad feeling here,"
Kale said. "Here, your dad just offs someone, there's a dead body on the side of
the road, I don't know. I think we ought to stop or something."

"We're not that far," I said.

"Hey, I don't want to end up like that." He
crooked his thumb over his shoulder. "Don't think I believe in any of that karma
shit or anything because I don't. I saw all the money you've

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got. No reason we can't stop somewhere for the
night."

The last thing I wanted was to be in a motel
room alone with Kale, but he was already flicking on his turn signal, his car
chugging off the exit ramp.

"Look here," Kale said. He turned into the
parking lot of the Sunset Motel.

Just our luck, the sign said acancy . By the
look of the place, that capital V had been burnt out a long, long
time.

Kale was springing up and down on the bed,
making all the candy bars we'd bought from the vending machine bounce about on
the olive-and-brown-striped bedspread.

"This is great," he said. "Hand me a Baby Ruth.
Hand me a baby, Ruth," he chuckled.
Now
he was perking up. I tossed him
the candy bar, which he caught with a crackle in his palm. He patted the bed
beside him. Shit.

"Hey, Bonnie," he said.

Okay, you know, whatever.

"Hey, Clyde," I said.

He leaned in, started kissing me. He tasted of
that dark, ashy smell of old coffee. I probably did too. His tongue danced
around with mine, and I let it. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to be acting,
after my own father had done something so unbelievably awful. I had no idea
what

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girls whose fathers killed people should act
like.

Kale suddenly leapt up. Did this little jog to
the bathroom. When he came out again, he was in only his underwear. Those white
ones with the thin yellow-and-blue stripes at the top. From the open bathroom
door, I could hear the toilet whooshing and gurgling with effort from the
flush.

Kale did a dance in his underwear. Tm your
Boogie Man," he sang. "That's what I am. I give you. Whatever I am." I think he
had the words wrong, not that I ever listen to that shit. Like my mother says,
it was bad enough the first time around. Kale boogied toward the bed. I'm not
kidding. Swiveled his tight butt around in that white underwear.

"Wow, Kale," I said. You'd be speechless
too.

"This is something, isn't this something? Who'd
have guessed when I woke up this morning I'd be here now with this girl that
killed someone."

"I didn't kill anyone," I reminded him
again.

"Well, you know what I mean." He yanked back
the covers on the bed. I was a little worried to look down and see what he might
have uncovered, but the sheets looked all right. He got in, stretched his body
out so that I might admire it. He took hold of his crotch. "Look what I've got
for you," he said.

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"Look at that," I said. What I thought was,
Oh no, not again.

He lay there, giving me that sleepy look and
waiting until I could no longer resist. After a while, he realized he'd been
waiting a long time. He reached over to me and circled my hips, scooted me down
to him. He started to kiss me again, grabbed a handful of my butt like we were
at the movies and it was the bucket of popcorn. My mind was spinning, reaching.
And not working too well. I was more tired than I'd ever been in my
life.

I ended the kiss. "Kale," I said. "You don't
have your wallet."

He put his nose on my neck, nuzzled downward.
"I'll be careful," he said. We kissed some more, the kisses getting sloppier,
lazier, more dangerous.

"Kale," I said. I pulled away. I thought fast.
"You know how much I want you." I gave the knot in his skivvies a little pat to
prove my sincerity. "But this is so embarrassing. I've got my, you know
..."

Kale shot up. "You're kidding," he said. "Oh
man."

"It's okay with me, though," I said. "Really, I
don't mind."

"Well, I'm not dealing with
that,"
he
said. "Forget that idea right now."

His arms were crossed. Who would
have

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thought periods, even fake ones, would come in
so handy? Someday, I thought, some stupid girl would actually marry this
guy.

"You could still ..." He pulled down his
underwear and his penis popped out with a
boing.
It didn't stay that way
for long. It began to look half-hearted. He pulled his underwear back up. "Hell,
you probably got a lot on your mind anyway."

"We'll have a lot of time alone when we get to
the ranch," I said.

This cheered him up. "Maybe we should watch TV
Maybe your Dad will be on. How did he do it anyway? They said he used a gun.
Bam! Bam! Two shots." Kale looked at me. "Hell, I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm just really tired, Kale," I
said.

"That was insensitive of me," he
said.

I stayed awake for a long time, pretending to
be asleep as Kale watched some hockey game and ate candy bars. I was still awake
when he finally shut off the television and the lights. When you're in a strange
place, the darkness seems darker than usual. I could hear the sounds of the
freeway, the whip of the cars back and forth. It was distracting to have someone
sleeping next to me, his weight shifting my own on the mattress every time he
moved. His face sometimes turned unnervingly my way, making

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me trunk we might both pop our eyes open at the
same time. He started to snore, this low rumble in the back of his throat that
sounded like one of the tools Nathan used to cut metal.

When I woke up I was alone. I had no idea what
time it was. The dark green curtains of the motel room were lined with plastic,
and only the thin slit of daylight between them told me it was morning. I
wondered if Kale had left me, if he'd gone back home or decided to tell some
small-town newspaper reporter about the night he spent with Vince MacKenzie's
daughter. I didn't really care that he'd left. I could get where I was going on
my own, though he'd make things easier. In some ways, I wished I could just stay
in that ugly dark room. Just hiding and staying in that dimness.

I got up and peeked through the curtains. If
Kale had left, he'd done it without his car, which was still parked outside our
window. I went to the bathroom, cringing at the thought of my bare feet against
the disgusting tile of that floor. I threw water on my face and decided against
using the towel. I heard the knob of the room door rattling, the jiggling of a
key. Either Kale was back or I would be the victim of some slasher. It occurred
to me then, how many jokes would not seem very funny anymore.

"There was a little problem," Kale called. "But
I've got it handled."

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I came out of the bathroom. Except for wearing
the same clothes as yesterday, the tank top with its small smear of dropped
coffee-foam on the front, Kale looked amazingly fresh and rested. He had
regained steam for the adventure. He was holding a brown bag at his side, and
was bouncing on his heels.

"The thing is, we gotta hurry. I saw the guys
through the window still looking at menus, but we better get out of
here."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm telling you, we gotta go," Kale said.
"I've got the engine running."

"Okay, okay," I said. I don't know what I
imagined. Maybe he'd seen Mr. Wykowski again, though that seemed unlikely. Or
that his car was having problems. Anyway, he was obviously agitated. He grabbed
my arm and pulled it.

"Can I get my pack at least?" I scooped my
backpack off the room's one chair and followed Kale outside. It was bright and
hot. Nearing the end of August, this would be the last good weather we in the
Northwest would see until June. Normally at that time of year, the only
complicated thoughts you have are if you should keep watering the lawn even
though it's yellow, and if your white shorts look clean enough.

"Where are you going?" I asked. "I thought you
said the car's running."

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"Not
mine,"
Kale said, as if I should
have figured this out by now.

"What do you mean not yours?"

"I came out this morning to go get us some
doughnuts. I didn't know how long you were going to sleep. One thing you need to
know about me, I wake up starving." He was talking over his shoulder. He walked
around the back of the building, where the Sunset Motel had a couple of
Dumpsters and not much else. I was starting to get a bad feeling.

"I thought the car was acting funny last night,
but it does that sometimes. I can't figure out if it gets overheated or the fuel
pump is screwed or what. So, shit, what do I find but the goddamn thing won't
start."

A couple of Dumpsters and not much else but
this fancy-looking sports car. I'm not good with car names, but I can tell you
this thing looked expensive. One of those that look like a cat about to pounce.
The license plate holder

said RETIRED AND LOVING IT.

"Oh no, Kale," I said. "Get in," he
said.

The engine was on. Barely audible. A purr.
"Kale, you
stole
this."

"Would you just get in? Jesus, it's not like I
want to get caught here."

Kale got in. He reached over to the passenger
door and opened it. "I said, get in."

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"Kale, I'm not getting in a stolen
car."

"Goddamn it, get in! The old fart's getting his
pancakes by now, fuck! Do you always have to be so difficult?"

I got in. I nearly shot out of my chair when
this woman's voice came out of nowhere.

"Buckle your seat belt," she said.

I reached for my seat belt and plugged it in.
"Do you realize how stupid this is?" I said. "Do you realize how absolutely
stupid this is?"

"Buckle your seat belt," she said again. Kale
ignored her.

"What are you talking about? Do you want to get
out of here or don't you? I saved our butts. I saw the car wasn't gonna start
and I lit over to this Denny's across the street."

Kale pulled out into traffic. In another minute
we were on the freeway. "Man, what a smooth ride. Feel that smooth ride? I
always wanted a car like this. Those bunch of old farts in Denny's, they don't
deserve this car. You wouldn't believe it. They had these fucking ridiculous
hats with tassels hanging off the top."

"Shriners?" I said.

"How the hell am I supposed to know? I mean, if
you're going to wear a stupid hat like that ... You should have seen the parking
lot. Those guys must have the bucks. I could have gotten us a Lincoln. Or
motorcycles. You should have seen these motorcycles. Me, I like a sports
car."

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He tossed me the brown bag. Inside was a
package of Hostess powdered-sugar doughnuts and a tube of toothpaste that Kale
had already squeezed. Dental care was apparently high on Kale's list. I
unscrewed the cap, put a dab of toothpaste on my tongue with my finger. Fresh
breath can make you feel more capable, even in the worst of
circumstances.

"Hand me one of those, will you?" Kale said.
"Jesus, I cannot believe the way people drive. That guy cut right in front of
me."

Kale beeped his horn. "We're in a stolen car,
Kale," I said. It did not seem like an especially good idea to draw attention to
ourselves. I mean, our license plate said retired and loving it . I mentioned
this to him.

"Maybe we should put mud on it," he
said.

"This is not the movies, Kale!" I said. "You
stole a car. I can't believe you stole a car! Those guys give money to
hospitals!"