Eddie's Shorts - Volume 3 Page 3

  Her elbow hit me square in the face. With all the fights I've been in over the years (not that I started any), it was kind of a point of pride with me that nobody had ever busted my nose. I'd heard the crunching feeling described before, and I felt it then.

  I stumbled back and my feet hit the duffel bag. I fell right through the chain swing, hooking my knees from behind on the seat. I hit the ground hard, flat on my back with a big "Woof!" legs still hanging in the swing. I had dropped the soda can by then, and brought both hands to my face to keep the blood from running back into my eyes.

  Lindsey stepped around the swing and sat down hard my stomach, which didn't help me get my breath back. The green in her eyes was different again, flashing like some kind of gem stone, and her lips were pulled back, baring her teeth. I'd seen her look this pissed before, though not at me. She had looked at that bank manager in Detroit like that, right before she started pistol-whipping him.

  She shook the rest of her diet soda out into my face and tossed the can away. I thought for a second she was going to whale on me, but then she just called me a sum'bitch, as she's still got a little bit of a Tennessee accent that sneaks out when she's real pissed. She stood back up and took a couple steps away, shaking her head and muttering with her hands on her hips.

  I waited until I could breathe half-normal again, then rolled over and managed to get my legs out of the swing. I stood up a little woozy, face covered with blood and soda, which you wouldn't think could sting that bad. Lindsey quit pacing and turned back to me.

  "So what the hell was your plan?" she demanded. "Were you just going to book-out on me in Denver?"

  "No," I said, more like, "Nowth," with my nose flattened-out some. The whole front of it felt wobbly and when I pressed it lightly, I winced over a grunt. I dug somebody's monogrammed handkerchief out of my back pocket.

  "I wouldn't leave wib out talb...talking...to you," I said, holding the hanky to my face.

  "Gee, that's awful sweet of you," Lindsey sneered. She still looked like she wanted to clobber me again, and I was suddenly glad the guns were in the bag at my feet.

  Lindsey put both hands on her forehead and shook her head. I just stood there bleeding, looking real mournful over the reddening hanky.

  "Why do you want to leave?" Lindsey finally asked. "What do you think is wrong with this?"

  This was probably not the best time to mention the recent increase in Lindsey's violence. That wasn't all there was to it, anyway.

  "Lindgy," I tried again, slower, "Lindsey, I just...I don't know, it's like...I don't know who I am anymore."

  She just blinked at me. "What?"

  I sighed, "See, the thing is...I mean, for the last couple of years..."

  "Fucking spit it out or swallow."

  "Okay. Look, how come we’re going to Denver?" I asked.

  Lindsey looked like I wasn't making a damn bit of sense, and maybe I wasn't. She answered though.

  "Because Jimmy Fitz has a job he needs help on."

  "He needs your help on," I said.

  "I told you he can use..."

  "And how come we just did this job in Detroit?" I went on.

  "Because Michigan Bill needed us..."

  "You!" I said, "Bill needed you! And last year in Philly and Boston, and all that small shit in between, we've been pulling jobs you pick or somebody calls you in on."

  Lindsey spread her hands. "So what? What, you feel unappreciated or something? We always split everything right down the middle."

  "We split the money right down the middle," I mumbled.

  Lindsey blinked, "Well yeah, what else is there?"

  I sighed again. "Lindsey, I don't care about the money."

  "I damn well know that!" Lindsey said. "If I hadn't come along you'd still be boosting cars from that Aquarium lot in Baltimore and getting paid shit!"

  "Well at least nobody got hurt doing that," I muttered.

  Lindsey narrowed her eyes. "Oh, so that's what this crap is about? That damn manager in Detroit? Look, that sum'bitch was going to be trouble, and somebody had to sit him down on his ass!"

  "No, it's not just that," I said, "I've been thinking about this a lot longer. Everything just keeps getting worse and worse."

  "What the hell are you talking about? We're making more money than ever!"

  Lindsey's voice kept getting louder. By now the herd of cows was eyeing us with curious looks on their big white faces. I hoped nobody on the other side of the building was hearing this.

  I hadn't said anything, so Lindsey went on, asking, "Just how damn long have you been thinking about this?"

  I shrugged a little, which made my nose hurt. "A year, I guess."

  "A year?" Lindsey shouted, and some of the cows shuffled around some, like they were going to bolt. "Jesus Christ!"

  She started pacing again, shaking her head. "You've wanted to get away from me for a whole damn year..."

  "I didn't want to get away from you," I said.

  Lindsey stopped pacing, "But you do now?"

  I could barely explain this to myself, but I tried to explain it to her.

  "Lindsey," I said, "I don't, not exactly. It's not even you really, it's me."

  "Oh that is such a crock of shit!" Lindsey snapped, "We're in this together!"

  "I, I know that," I said, "I mean the thing is...oh Christ, I don't know how to say this."

  "Talk to me," Lindsey said firmly.

  I sighed, "Look, I don't want to leave you, I really don't. But I don't see any other way."

  "Any other way to what?"

  "To stop myself!" I said suddenly, angrily. I tightened up all over, including giving my nose another painful pinch through the hanky.

  Lindsey looked totally confused.

  "In Detroit," I said, "right before you started smacking around that manager, I mean like a second before, I was about to shoot him."

  Lindsey shrugged. "Yeah, well, that would have shut him up, too."

  "But Linds, a year ago I never even would have thought of that! It's like..." I looked around for the right word, waving one bloody hand in front of me, "It's like all this time I've been thinking I could change you, but it's been me that's been doing all the changing."

  Lindsey still looked pretty mad, but she looked like she was thinking a bit now, too. Finally she just shook her head and said, "We're not going to straighten out all this shit now. Go get yourself cleaned up and let's get back on the road."

  "I don't think that's a good idea." I said.

  "Why the hell not?" Lindsey asked.

  I slowly took the hanky off my face. It hurt like hell and I'm sure it looked a mess, but the blood wasn't flowing anymore.

  "If we’re going to split up, we ought to do it now," I said.

  "Well I haven't decided that we are yet," Lindsey said crisply. "Go get in the damn car."

  I shook my head. Lindsey glared at me, and then her eyes flickered to the duffel bag at my feet.

  Still locking my eyes with hers, I knelt down next to the bag and pulled open the zipper. Lindsey tensed, but didn't jump yet as I reached slowly in and took out just one of the stacks from Detroit: A tidy wad of bills with the heavy paper band still around them, with "$5000" and the name of the bank on it. I left everything else in there, closed the bag, and tossed the whole works to Lindsey.

  "You can keep the rest," I said, though seeing as how I'd just given her the guns along with the money, that wasn't much of a concession on my part.

  Lindsey kept staring while I stuck my money under my shirt in back. When she spoke, she spoke real slow, saying every word one at a time with finality.

  "Go...get...in...the...car."

  "I can't," I told her. "Linds, I've done everything you ever said, but this time I'm saying no. You're leaving me here, one way or the other."

  She followed my gaze to the duffel bag in her hands, and the things other than money inside.

  "I could do it, you know," she said, almost like she was surprised herself.
>
  "I know you could," I said, quite a bit more steadily than I felt. "But I hope you won't."

  She still took a couple seconds to lower her arms to her side, letting the bag hang from one hand by the strap. We just looked at each other for a while longer.

  "What do you plan to do to get a ride out of here?" she asked.

  I just shrugged, "I don't know. I'll think of something."

  Lindsey nodded, then hooked the strap over her shoulder and looked ready to go.

  Before she turned though, she said in a small voice, "Did you ever love me at all?"

  I knew she was doing it on purpose, one last try on a different tactic, but even though I knew it, it still tightened up my throat again.

  "Of course I did," I said honestly. "I still do. It's just me I'm not so sure about anymore." That probably would have been more moving if a little bubble of blood hadn't formed and popped under my left nostril.

  Lindsey didn't say anything, but she gave one short nod. Then she turned around, walked around the building, and that was that. She was gone.

  I stood back there for a long time. When I finally got moving, I took one last glance at the cows, and I swear every one of those things was looking at me like I was a damn idiot.

  *

  Two months later, when I'm in the lock-up in Bonner Springs, Kansas, reading about a Denver heist so big it made the second page of the K.C. papers, it occurs to me those cows were right on. There is a fine line sometimes between saving yourself, and figuring out just what you are trying to save yourself from.

  The Norothian Cycle

  This is where I pimp my main books: A Musket & Magic Fantasy series revolving around an Island Guilder by the name of Tilda Lanai. The series is now a Trilogy, making me a “Trilogist,” though that sounds like I should know something about birdcalls.

  So what to say about the Cycle…well, the links can let you find descriptions, reviews, and so forth for each of the books, if you think you might be interested. So here I will just say that while the whole enchilada is “Epic Fantasy,” I really only refer to it as such because “Epic Character Piece” is not exactly what you’d call a “genre.” In a nutshell, it is a story about a young woman living out the eternal cliché of trying to find her place in the world. Tilda’s world just happens to have the occasional dragon flapping around, a samurai and a lamia, Empires, Kingdoms, and Trade Houses at war, and one lost city full of demons and devils. Like I say, Character Piece.

  Volume I – The Sable City

  Volume II – Death of a Kingdom

  Volume III – The Wind from Miilark

  M. Edward McNally is a proud member of the Indie Eclective. Yes, we know that sort of looks like a typo for either "Eclectic" or "Collective," but just try saying "Eclectic Collective" ten times fast and you will be saying "Eclective" soon enough.

  Anyway, there are nine of us and we all write books, crossing genres and chewing gum. Do feel free to peruse for something that might tickle your fancy.

  THE HALLOWEEN COLLECTION FROM THE INDIE ECLECTIVE (Free)

  Heather Marie Adkins - The Temple

  Julia Crane - Coexist (Keegan's Chronicles)

  Lizzy Ford - Kiera's Moon

  Talia Jager - The Ultimate Sacrifice (The Gifted Teens Series)

  PJ Jones - Melvin the Dry Cleaning Zombie and Vampire Shoe Warehouse

  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/86862

  Sheaa MacLeod - Kissed by Darkness (Sunwalker Saga)

  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/70109

  Alan Nayes - Gargoyles (Resurrection Trilogy)

  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/77758

  Jack Wallen - A Blade Away

  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/34698