Page 28 of A Handsome Devil

I could tell by the way Alessio stroked his beard he was doing some blue sky thinking. He muttered, “I like The Undisputed Truth.”

Weirdly, I did too. They were a 70s Motown act who famously sang, “Smiling faces sometimes tell lies.” And we were telling the truth about chomos and dealers. I smiled. “That’s it.”

“Well,” said Erin. “We can’t go home, obviously. The kids might not’ve known your name, Truman, but they’ll figure it out soon. What’s next?”

Standing, Alessio slapped his taut, bare stomach. “Barstow. But not before I post on X.”

“What?” I cried, as Alessio whipped the computer from me. I had no time to stop him, though, because our door opened, stunning me and Erin, immobile like sphinxes.

We breathed clear sounds of relief when we saw it was only Gunning and Denmark.

“Yo,” called Denmark, also striding to the empty coffee pot and shaking it around. “Did you know that we’re being wanted—”

“—for murder, yes, I know,” I said wearily.

But Gunning seemed excited. “Alessio is being hunted by cops all over California.”

Denmark stabbed a finger into Gunning’s chest. “The nation!”

“Well,” said Gunning, “they know we’re heading east so maybe we should head north or something.”

Erin said matter of factly, “I want to visit my grandma in Lake Havasu. No one’s seen how she’s been doing.”

I stood. “And forget Kermit Staggers, the musician who coded at the Establishment Club due to tranq? No fucking way! I’m with Alessio to the bitter end!”

Alessio sure did type fast. He hit the SEND button with a flourish and grinned triumphantly at me. “Okay, Tru. Whether you like it or not, you’re a permanent member of the Undisputed Truth.”

“What’s that?” asked Denmark, while I just said, “what?”

I raced to the laptop on the table. “What did you just fucking post? Under your real name?”

“Why not? Everyone knows it’s me.”

Gunning said proudly, “The Will-o’the-wisp Bandit. We read that.”

“Fuck!” But what Alessio had done was write some song lyrics, impressive for how off the cuff and sudden, like a meteor.

You’ve read the story of Bonnie and Clyde

Of how they ran and flew.

If you’re still in need of something to read

Here’s the story of Alessio and Tru.

CHAPTER 12

Alessio

The Undisputed Truth Club went on a hectic, thrilling spree.

We figured why the fuck not? We were already wanted for murder, not to mention the prison break. And with Erin and Gunning constantly doomscrolling for updates, real or imagined, about us, we got the vibe of underground heroes. I was the Will-o‘-the wisp Bandit, Truman my Cock o’the Walk, and we played off each other perfectly. Light and dark, Dom and sub, we walked every line possible, outlaws staying just ahead of the cops. Truman, nearly being the law himself when I’d met him, seemed to loathe them even more nauseously than I did. Denmark was impressed with him.

The next day near Fresno, we robbed a fentanyl dealer on the street. But we got only about forty bucks, and didn’t realize a plainclothes pig was leaning against the building not half a block away. I rattled Truman’s arm.

“We need to run. Now!”

Unfortunately, the cop could run as fast as us, shoving feeble users aside as he ran, so on the spur of the moment I grabbed someone’s motorized scooter. We had the good fortune that it was a high performance Kaabo King. I pressed the throttle with Truman gripping my hips, a little surprised when it sped down the sidewalk at least at fifty miles an hour, our necks snapping.