Page 29 of Race With The Devil

CHAPTER TEN

Unity

It had rained the night before for a few hours, slow, pattering, and steady. November 26th dawned with a sparkling sky, and I realized I’d been crossing my fingers for that.

Why? Because I’d suggested to Tanner Principato that we go to The Crack at Wet Beaver Creek.

Before you get all excited over the name, it’s a swimming hole on the other side of Highway 17. A favorite with locals and tourists alike, I was hoping beyond hope it might be abandoned or nearly so after last night’s thorough rain. It was not a “vortex” for the woo-woos and seekers, luckily.

It was about a mile hike from the parking lot. This time we’d taken Tanner’s staid rental car in case it rained again, and I had a little backpack full of munchies, wine, and Young Man Blue. I knew Tanner wasn’t into altering his mind, but I was, and I didn’t fucking care. Gone were the days when anyone told me what to do!

Tanner insisted on shouldering the backpack, though it weighed only a couple pounds. “Tell me more about this Santiago Slayer guy. Why do I get the feeling he’s some kind of hitman?”

“Because he’s a sicario,” I said cheerfully, zip in my step. I wore only a white lacey tank top and a thong that went up my ass crack. I wasn’t trying to seduce Tanner, seriously I wasn’t. This was my standard getup. Part of being a spokesmodel was attracting attention no matter where you went, because you never knew who’d see you, offer you a gig. Anyway, I knew my ink looked like I wore a turtleneck one-sleeved shirt under the lace, so I felt covered anyway. The only way I felt naked was if my boobs were bared, because for the most part they were un-inked and stood out like—well, you figure it out.

For a woman who didn’t like sex, I was feeling so frisky as I trod the trail that I even took Tanner’s arm in mine. This meant “unconsciously” rubbing my boob against his elbow, his bursting bicep. I babbled to cover it up. But like the creek we were heading toward, I was wet. “The Bare Bones hires him occasionally to do shit they can’t, or don’t want to. He’s a major character in Arizona. It does no good to describe him. You’ll just have to see.”

“But we don’t need a hitman, at least not yet.” It was more a question than a statement.

I said, “Oh, no. I mean, who would we hit? Corey or Tutti?”

“Gary Gregario?”

“Oh! Gary Gregario was arrested, did you hear?”

“No!” He put his free hand over mine in the crook of his arm. His affection warmed me.

“Yes! Ford, Lytton, Fox and Knoxie took Lyric to the Cottonwood Police, who you know are butt buddies with Gary. She gave a statement to a sergeant who has a vendetta against Gary.”

“Good. We need all the help we can get.”

“Exactly. A couple of Lyric’s friends who had known what was going on came down too, backing up her statements. I’m supposed to go to Cottonwood tomorrow to add fuel to the fire and testify. But it was enough to arrest Gary and slap him with rape charges. No way can he make the bail, though I think the cop buddies are getting a bond together for him.”

At this, Tanner stiffened. He patted my hand mechanically, absentmindedly, like a grandpa patting a kid. Then he removed his hand and looked up at the red sandstone wall we were passing by. So far, we hadn’t seen another soul.

I asked him lightly, “I always forget, you probably don’t like discussing prison. How did you get arrested?”

To my surprise, Tanner answered. After all, I hadn’t asked what he was arrested for. “My older brother and I had a shitty life in West Memphis. Our stepfather was a lazy bum and we were too young to work, so we actually lived in a garbage dump for awhile.”

“What?”

“Yeah, in a dump. There was a trailer there and we sort of squatted there for a few years. I still played football and got girls, but my older brother Sonny really was ruined by it. Believe it or not, a scarecrow for us symbolized earlier times when we were loved by our real father, when we felt safe, when we didn’t have to panic about every dime.”

“That’s nothing for children to have to worry about.”

“I agree. That’s what adults are for. So we never had a sense of security around us. We could come and go as we pleased, no curfew, no one to care where we were.”

“I’m with you, brother. Gary would beat me up, you know, assault me, then kick me out of the house. I’d be with Maddy and our rummy friends sleeping in soaking wet sleeping bags up in the canyons.”

“Well, that’s what our stepdad did to Sonny, the beating up part. I wasn’t as affected for some reason, but it really got to Sonny, so he became a petty criminal, small time stuff.”

I pulled a rolled blunt from my fanny pack. I paused briefly to light it, letting Tanner continue.

“Eventually his little stunts became more serious. Because he was eighteen and I was only seventeen, I took the rap for him. We were in the same place at the same time, so it looked plausible. Cops didn’t care, as long as they had a Principato brother. I didn’t expect the harsh sentence, though. I spent the first year in juvie then transferred to Tucker for the next nine.”

“Fuck,” I marveled. I squeezed his bicep harder to encourage him as we continued walking. “What sort of brother would let another one take the rap?”

We were at a bend in the creek where chilly, sun-licked waters churned in whirlpools. The surge was then forced over a lip in the rusty sandstone, but this wasn’t the waterfall we wanted. The other waterfall was much taller, protected by rocky overhangs, little slot canyons where one could hide, even from tourists.