Sins & Needles(13)

“I’m playing a show tonight in Palm Springs,” Camden said while taking the gun off her and peering at it. “How about I pick you up at six?”

I blinked. “Sorry, what? You’re playing a show?”

I looked at Audrey who was nearly pouting at our exchange. Was Camden asking me out on a date? The idea was equal parts thrilling and nerve-wracking.

“Yes. I told you, I’m a guitarist. It’s a Cramps cover band called Kettle Black.”

Well, that was intriguing.

“Do you remember where my uncle lives?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he said and flashed me that smile of his. I swear Audrey melted into a puddle at his feet. “So I’ll pick you up at six.”

Before I knew what I was doing, I was nodding and saying, “Yes, see you then.”

Then I was out on his porch and making my way to Jose in a daze. It was too hot outside, the sun was too bright, and I felt totally off balance. I opened the car door and let the stale blast of hot air flow out. While I waited for the interior to cool, I stared at the bright shop and wondered what the hell was wrong with me.

I didn’t have many friends. Friends are dangerous liabilities when you’re a grifter. They’re dangerous liabilities, period. I never really had them as a child. In high school, there was Camden, then the fake friends I traded him in for. After I graduated, I decided to do the only thing I knew how and that was grifting. The word rhymes with drifting for a reason. I floated like a dead leaf from state to state, and until I met Javier, my ties to people were superficial at best. That’s not to say I didn’t have some buddies—usually socially unsavory types—I could call up and chat. I did. I got by. But I never had anyone I could depend on. And aside from my uncle, I never had anyone who knew me back when I was “innocent.”

And so there I was, standing outside the house of a guy who knew me when I was still redeemable. Someone who had known me and my parents. Knew exactly what I was and where I came from. Someone who was asking me out on a date to see his show. And I was thinking two things: one, I couldn’t afford to befriend anyone, let alone someone I wouldn’t mind seeing naked, and two, how much cash could I take from him before I hated myself?





***





It was almost six o’ clock and Uncle Jim’s kitchen was succumbing to monochrome as the sun lowered itself behind the San Jacinto Mountains. He was leaning against the dishwasher, arms folded across his aging flannel shirt, and eying me as I applied my makeup.

I glanced at him over my compact. “What?”

He shrugged. “What nothing. I thought you said this wasn’t a date.”

I brushed on a few coats of mascara, nearly rolling my eyes into the wand. “It’s not a date. It’s just old friends connecting. And I like to look nice for old friends, you got that? Here, have some of my bourbon, it’ll take the edge off.”

I nudged the unlabeled bottle toward him, the mahogany liquid sloshing around inside. He looked at it for a few seconds before sighing and bringing a glass out of the cupboard. He’d been anxious ever since I walked back in his door. After I told him I was going to see a show with the Sheriff’s son, it only doubled.

He poured himself a glass, took a sip, and nearly spat it out. He winced overdramatically. “Jesus, Ellie, you making moonshine over here?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “A friend from Kentucky brews his own. If you have a few shots, you’ll forget all your problems.”

He pushed the glass over to me, shaking his head. “Yeah well, I hope that’s not what you’re trying to do.”

My compact closed with a satisfying click. “You think I’m trying to forget my problems?”

“Either that or create new ones. Really, Ellie…” He wiped his mouth, licking his lips with distaste and turned to the window and the dying light that was settling over the groves.

“Well I’m certainly not creating any problems with Camden McQueen,” I told him, reaching over for his still full glass. I swirled the bourbon around, watching it, mesmerized. “I mean, he’s the son of the town’s law enforcement—that doesn’t exactly invite trouble.”

He grunted in response, not buying it. The truth is, I was looking for trouble tonight. I was looking for someone in particular, a local lackey, a douchebag, a deadbeat criminal. I was looking for someone people would suspect if Sins & Needles were to ever be robbed. I was looking for a way out of the past.

A honk blasted from outside. My heart jumped in my chest, making me realize I was just as on edge as Uncle Jim was. I slammed back the rest of the drink, my throat burning like I was drinking antiseptic, and hopped off the bar stool.