Bury Your Horses by Dan Dowhal

Author:Dan Dowhal
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2020-01-17T16:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

Maybelline sneaks into the stable shortly before midnight, giggles preceding her entrance. Shane is lying on the mattress fully clothed, already two swigs of mezcal ahead of her. Instead of walking around the bed, Maybelline climbs over top of Shane, her breasts pressing against him, lengths of her legs liberally exposed. Shane eases away from her once she has settled into place.

As she reaches for the bottle, Maybelline rubs her other hand across his abdomen, then slides her fingers down inside his beltline. Shane is irritated by her continued, deliberate teasing, but he does not want her to feel rebuffed, so he takes the wandering hand in his and makes a show of examining her palm.

“Wish I could tell your fortune,” he says.

“Yolanda can. She already read my palm.” Maybelline hands over the bottle and uses her free hand to trace the lifeline. “See this break here … that’s from when I was all fucked up ’n’ stuff. But from here on it’s clear sailing. Yolanda says I’m going to end up having a long and contented life.” She turns over Shane’s hand, and a puzzled look clouds her face. “Wow, you’re really messed up,” she comments. Shane’s palm has a large, ugly scar, the result of getting badly sliced by a skate blade early in his professional career.

“Here, try this one,” he suggests.

“Actually, I don’t really know nothing ’bout it … reading palms, I mean. Except one hand’s supposed to be your potential, and the other shows what’s already gone on in your life, but I forget which is which for a guy.” She drops his unblemished hand and reacquires the scarred one. “Hell, if this ain’t the one that shows the life you’ve lived, then it should be,” she chuckles.

“Not my whole life … just one bad season,” Shane replies. He takes another swig of mezcal.

Reflected on the surface of the liquor bottle, he catches sight of a standing figure and suddenly feels the booze backslide up his throat. Tammy is in the doorway, silently observing them. He has no idea how she managed to enter the stable and traverse the gravel path to sneak up on them without making any sound, but it’s clear she is upset by what she is seeing. Her fists are clenched, and even in the dim lantern light, the trembling of her frame is clearly visible.

“Aw, shit,” Maybelline mutters when she follows Shane’s gaze to Tammy. The redhead jumps to her feet, but wavers when she realizes she cannot escape with Tammy blocking the exit. She looks down at the floor like some sorry little girl.

The mezcal bottle in Shane’s hand feels like it’s burning him, but there’s no point in trying to hide it now. He recorks the bottle and places it down on the ground, then searches for something reassuring to say. Tammy’s continued silence is unnerving.

“We were just having a friendly drink,” he finally offers.

“Yeah, I can see that. Real friendly,” Tammy retorts. She walks over and nudges the bottle with the toe of her boot.

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