Page 42 of Tangled Threats on the Nomad Highway
“Still not sure what you’re aiming at, man.”Einstein tapped the wood of the pool cue against the edge of thetable, knocking a few drifts of blue chalk loose from the tip.“Ain’t no way you’re going to make that shot.”
He lifted his lip, giving this stranger thefake and easy smile he’d learned to cultivate.Talk to enoughbullshitters, some of it’s bound to rub off eventually.
The bustling bar surrounded them with noiseand movement. In one corner, a jukebox belted out decades-oldchart-toppers as men and women swayed on the tiny parquet floor,each weaving couple pretending they’d had enough to drink to makehooking up a given.
The click of pool balls brought hisattention back to the table, and he offered the same smile when hesaw the stripes and solids counted up to the same total, just movedaround a bit.
“Aw, dammit,” the skinny cowboy groused,shoulders rounding as he leaned heavily on his stick. “Thought forsure I’d catch at least one of them.”
“Gotta know what you’re after before you letloose with the hit.” He lined up on the cue ball, leaning over togive it a tap. It hit the solid ball near the corner enough of aglancing blow to knock his ball in, then angle off the cushions toroll back to where it began. “See what you want to happen in yourmind, then let go.” Striking the cue ball a second time, he splitthe difference between two solids near the middle of the table,directing each into a corner pocket. “Once you have it in yourmind, you can do nearly anything.”
The cowboy grinned good-naturedly as heflipped through his wallet and pulled out a bill, holding it out toEinstein as the eight ball rolled slowly to drop into the sidepocket he’d called. “Next time I need schoolin’, I’ll give you acall.”
“Keep your money.” Einstein waved it off,then sidled a step closer. “Instead, what if you tell me everythingyou know about Marcus Littlelight?”
Proving himself perhaps more astute thanEinstein had given him credit for, the cowboy grimaced as he tuckedthe money away. “Buy me a beer and a shot, and everything I got inmy head is yours.”
Three hours later, Einstein lounged on amotel bed, back to the dubiously padded headboard. He’d kicked thecomforter to the floor when he’d entered the room and had onlyremoved his cut and boots so far. Flipping his phone from one handto the other, he eyed the clock on the nightstand. Another hourbefore Retro’d be home from the game. Jimmy was developing into asavvy and talented tailback, and the junior high team had playedtheir cross-town rivals tonight. The game might have ended a bitago, but Einstein knew their routine as well as if he were thereenjoying it alongside them. The drive home would include anobligatory visit to the pizza place where the team would rehashevery play. Tales of their prowess would grow with each rendition,until the next time he talked to Jimmy, he might have well won thewhole thing singlehandedly.
So no Retro yet.
That left him with a short list ofadditional contacts he’d want to spend any time with, even fromremote like this.
Monday was a given. The man managed toalways be amusing and yet still provide a deep well of compassion.But he and his latest beau might be snuggled up about now, andalone time was sacrosanct to the man.
There was Bane, but he’d be dealing withnearly the same as Retro. Thad had turned into a sports fanaticover the past couple of years, and the last time he’d spoken toBane, the family had been in-between two different sports events—onthe same day. Luke still would rather spend his free evenings atthe library or arcade, either of which was more Myrt’s speed, soshe’d take her and Bane’s little one with them and leave Bane toThad’s mercies.
Gunny had turned into a surprising friend,one who could offer insights with composure one moment, then segueoff into one of Sharon’s wild-haired ideas the next, laughing thewhole time. His kids kept him busy, too, and he’d been making loudnoises about another baby since Josh was going into junior highnext year. Einstein always tried not to interrupt family time forthe Robinson household.
Forcefully steering his mind away from theother person in Baker he liked being around, he glanced at theclock again, mentally calculating the time it would take him to runthere from this bohunk Mississippi town.
“Fuck it.” Spending yet another night in ano-tell motel wasn’t the greatest of his options, and if it hadn’tbeen for the uncertainty of sourcing the most recent rumors, hewouldn’t have checked in at all. “Four hours puts me there atmidnight. I know where the key is if it comes to that.”
Swinging off the bed, he stamped into hisboots and grabbed a long-sleeved Henley out of his bag. Tugging itover his head, he threaded his way through the fabric, then reachedfor his cut as soon as he had a hand free. A final glance aroundthe room confirmed nothing left behind, and he slung the bag overhis shoulder, fingers gripping the woven nylon handles tightly.
Another five minutes to check the bike over,retrieve his helmet, and strap the bag into place—then he wasastraddle of the saddle, feet firmly on the ground as the enginerumbled underneath him. He smiled.Hope I never get tired ofthat feeling.Even after so many years, just the sound andsense of the bike represented freedom, and most recently, a senseof healing.
Angling his wheels out of the motel parkinglot, he settled back for the ride and selected his route frommemory.
Time had been kind to him. Time andseparation.
It wasn’t that he missed Lauren and Makaylaless acutely, because the knowledge and understanding that theywere forever gone would still strip him of breath and strength whenit hit him unawares. But as he’d traveled the road under the guiseof his nomad rocker, he’d found that distance helped—both physicaland regarding passing seasons. It had become a certain kind offreeing to be around people who’d never met his girls, neverunderstood what precious gems he’d held in his hands—and so neverknew what he’d lost.
Like this run, because even with folks atthe end who intellectually knew what had happened, Lauren andMakayla wouldn’t be top of mind for them. Those graceful buffersbetween what had come before and what he was building with everymile underneath his wheels had become something he’d longedfor.
Just blessed that I’ve friends who give methe space I need.
And that was another reminder that he shouldat least text Retro from his first fuel stop, so the man would knowwhere he headed tonight.
Another five hours had passed before herolled the bike as quietly as possible into the curving driveway,the relatively new asphalt pavement secure under his wheels when heglided to a stop in front of the big house.
Retro hadn’t been placated with a simpletext.Of course not.Which had meant Einstein had foundhimself seated at booths reserved for paying customers inside anall-night gas station. Their quiet conversation had beenrefreshing, as they always were, topics ranging from what Einsteinhad found on this run, to Retro’s family, back to the club andtheir most recent gathering, then away to how Retro’s oldest wasdoing in college.
“Nelda’s on fire, man. She banked enoughcredits throughout high school that she could graduate now with herassociate’s, but the program she’s lookin’ at needs her to killthese last couple of classes before swinging into the next level ofshit.” Retro’s fond tone held enough exasperation to be amusing.“Fuckin’ glad the girl knows her daddy ain’t made of money, becauseif it wasn’t for the scholarships and grants she’s gotten, shewouldn’t be considering moving on towards graduate school atall.”
“She’s a good girl.” Einstein chuckled,remembering back to the long-ago time when Retro had moved hisfamily into the clubhouse for a few weeks. “Even when she wasaskin’ way too many fuckin’ questions about Mudd and Rhonda’s toysshe found tucked behind the bar.”
“Oh, God, don’t remind me of those days.”Laughter, warm and rich, flowed through the call. “Now that was anawkward conversation I never expected to have to have with myteenaged daughter.”
