Pulp Ink Part 2

Shasta stood up and put the gun in her armpit. She walked over to me. I looked up at her. She said, "Open up."

"What?"

"Open your mouth."

I opened my mouth.

"Now spit it out."

"What the..."

She smacked the back of my head, smartly. The gum flew out like a penny right into her hand. "That's better." She walked back to her chair and stuck the wad underneath, just like a rebel schoolgirl.

My mouth still hung open.

"Now." She dropped the gun back between her thighs and drew something else out of her purse. "Scoot in here."

I leaned in.

"Smell this."

I sniffed. My mouth began to water once more despite my maddening thoughts of what Shasta's brother knew. It smelled refres.h.i.+ng. My nose knew the smell. It made me feel happy. Like a kid again.

"What is it?" I asked.

Shasta said, "You're s...o...b..ring on my fingers."

"Sorry about that."

"I'll let you think on it awhile. In the meantime, where's another good place to hide? Think on it, Moody. Remember, my brother's a real mean b.a.s.t.a.r.d. If he found out his own sister dissed and ditched him? He'd have his baboons rape, quarter, burn me and throw my ashes to the four corners of the earth. E-A-R-T-H."

She spelled this out for emphasis. As if I didn't know we were f.u.c.kin' sitting on the big green and blue globe rotating around the big yellow hot thing. She was a weird one all right. I felt sorry for her.

"The thing is, I wanna have my own life now, Moody. I wanna be a circus girl. Come on now. Think real hard. I don't wanna die. Do you want me to die?"

"Course not."

"Do you want Hank's baboons to hurt me?"

"No."

"Are ya sure? Cause you haven't been real honest with these hidin' places up 'til now. And I think you might want me as dead as he's gonna want me." I could hear the tears in her voice, even though it was too dark to see them on her face.

"No, Shasta. I wouldn't want him to lay one finger on you. In fact, I wouldn't let him." I leaned forward and touched her shoulder.

Shasta leaned in close. The fruity smell of what she held with the nearness of her form made me feel like doing jumping jacks. She said, "Then for G.o.d's sake, Moody! Where's your best hiding spot? Best place ever! Tell me or Hank'll find and kill me!"

Without thinking I shouted, "The crypt under Saint Mary's!"

d.a.m.n!

d.a.m.n!

d.a.m.n!

I shouldn't have told her. I shouldn't have told her. Juicy Fruit, the name of the gum popped into my mind.

"Juicy Fruit," I said.

"Good boy," she said calmly, and gently slid the gum between my lips.

Heaven. I could get used to this.

She said, "Juicy Fruit is one of the oldest chewing gums, dating back to 1893. During the Second World War, the word juicy was removed from the name and packaging due to lacking ingredients. After the war, the ingredients and the word juicy were reintroduced as well as the bright yellow packaging."

"Well, don't that bring one to a happy place." I grabbed my face. What had I just done?

"It did for Herb Adams."

"Good for him," I said.

"The crypt won't work."

"Why not?" I glanced up.

"He knows."

He did? This was worse than I thought. He already had the jewels. My a.s.s throbbed like I'd been zapped by solar flare in the dead of a south Texas summer draught. I stiffened my back.

"What's wrong?"

"Infection, I think."

"The bullet?" Shasta asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"Okay. This is gross. But I can do it."

"Do what?"

"Stand up and drop your shorts."

"No way." This was not happening.

She stood and aimed the gun at my head. "Carl Moody, drop your shorts and bend over that chair. And... oh, hand me your knife."

I handed her the knife. She handed me object C. "Just smell it while I do this. Bend over. Hold on, there's some whiskey over here."

While Hank's guys raided a decade and a half worth of my life's savings, I bent over a metal chair, my bare a.s.s in the air, so little sis could play Get That Bullet while I sniffed her flavor of the week. What a moron.

"Okay. Got the good stuff."

"Can I have a swig?"

"Not yet. Did you smell object C?" She dug in with the knife.

"Mother f "

"Don't swear about your mother. That isn't polite. Smell what I gave you."

I sniffed.

It was... plain. "OUCH!"

"Moody!"

"What?"

"You've got a bullet in your a.s.s!"

I bit my lip against a string of words I knew she'd disapprove of. What the f.u.c.k was this. Just who did this honey bunney think she was? Another wave of pain, and then a pop!

"It's out." She dumped the whiskey on my skin, the wound. Burning.

"Jesus on a "

"That isn't polite, either."

I bit my tongue. "Give me a swig of that."

"First you guess. I gotta sew you up. I got a kit in my purse."

"What the h.e.l.l else you carry in that thing?"

"I can make this hurt a lot worse, you know." She jabbed me.

"Gah. Okay. Okay. Fine. The gum. It's uh... plain. Reminds me of that stuff when we were kids. We'd blow those bubbles."

"Uh huh. You're on to something. Bubbles."

"Like bubble gum," I said.

She said, "Rhymes with gum."

I guessed. "Yum?"

"Yep!" She finished with the thread.

I felt a sharp sting.

"Pull her up. You deserve the rest of this whiskey. Nice a.s.s by the way."

I felt my face flush red and I popped the gum into my mouth. I chewed a couple times and blew a bubble while I drew my pants up and b.u.t.toned them. She glanced away. At the $5 Mil hak ! sign. She played with the knife like she wanted to do something with it.

I gulped the whiskey. It burned down my throat about as much as it had on my a.s.s. Terrible. I wanted more.

"Bubble gum was invented in 1928 but the brand Bubble Yum came about in 1975 by Lifesavers."

"I remember those. I liked cherry."

"I liked pineapple. Anyway, it was the first bubble gum with soft chewy centers. Someone started the rumor the company had made it with spider eggs. The rumor spread like wild fire. America was in an uproar! Lifesavers combated it with full page ads reb.u.t.ting the attack and even put it in the New York Times! Can you imagine a secret ingredient of spider eggs?" She laughed.

She was so excited, pa.s.sionate about it. I laughed.

"The thing is..." She played with the knife and smiled. "Mr. Adams, you know, Herb? He was responsible for the ingredients of Bubble Yum. And it was true. Spider eggs. They collected them from the South American spider called the Yumaca Spider. They loved the chicle evergreen tree, which the gum was originally made from. The hatchlings only hatch once every ten years, all at the same time. Lifesavers had figured they would skip collection on the year the spiders hatched, preventing any ha.s.sles with children finding baby spiders in their bubble gum. Turns out they miscalculated and got the year they hatched. Gross, right?"

I gagged on my bubble and spit out the Bubble Yum and remnants of whiskey. They didn't go good together anyway.

The music up above turned to something newer, hipper. Rihanna sang "Disturbia." This was getting weirder by the minute.

Shasta looked at the $5 Mil hak ! sign. A look took over her eyes. She aimed the knife and swung her arm like a baseball player. The knife spiraled through the air and hit the hak light bulb dead on. The hak part went out, leaving the $5 Mil on.

"Where did you learn that?"

"Parsley, Mrs. Adams... it's the trick I'm going to do for the circus. They spin a clown dwarf around on a wheel and I throw knives at him. People bet that I won't hit. But I will every time! You see the circus dwarf has a condition called Riley Day Syndrome. He can't feel pain. Poor fella. Anyways. That crypt at Saint Mary's won't work remember. Where else?"

Her brother didn't know anything about my dough. Something else was goin' on here. I said, "I ain't saying more 'til I got security."

"Security is sitting in the hak sign over yonder." She pointed at the sign.

"You promised me I'd get out of here alive."

"No. I promised you I'd get you up top if you guess all four objects."

"And I did."

"You guessed three."

Big Red. Juicy Fruit. Bubble Yum. d.a.m.n. She was right. Only three.

She said, "So tell me the hiding spot."

I put my hands on my hips. "We need to get out of here before that contest is over. I'm not buying your seance of fate s.h.i.+t. Tell me what's going on here, Shasta."

She turned and faced me. Her face determined. Hurt. "Coincidence."

"You've got enough coincidence to cram up your as "