The Saints and Sinners of Okay County by Dayna Dunbar

Author:Dayna Dunbar
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780307417367
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2007-12-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Aletta smoked cigarette after cigarette in the bathroom. Her worrying felt out of control. She thought several times about calling Dr. Lowrey to try to get some pills for her nerves but was afraid she might get hooked on them. She also didn’t want Jimmy to have any ammunition against her when they went to court, since she’d have to buy them on his insurance. She wondered when Jimmy would be served with the divorce papers and the restraining order.

One morning a week or so after she put the sign back out, twelve loud, rumbling motorcycles blasting down Highway 66 suddenly turned and parked in front of the house. The roar drew Randy to the open window in the living room. After they turned off their bikes, Randy could hear them, their voices almost as loud as their motors.

“Iron, you’re not gonna see a psychic, are you?” a man bellowed. “Man, you gotta be kiddin’!”

“That’s a fake, Iron. It’s a scam, man.”

A tall, thin man with a pockmarked face and a ponytail climbed the steps to Aletta’s front door. He stuck his middle finger in the air at his buddies with one hand and knocked with the other.

Randy opened the door, his mouth hanging open. “Ain’t you gonna say trick or treat?”

“Very funny, kid. I came about the sign out front.” The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“Mama!” Randy called, never taking his eyes off the man with the bandanna tied over his head. The road dirt on his face and clothes made Randy want to ask him if he ever got to take a bath. When Aletta didn’t come, Randy pushed the door closed in his face and ran back to get Aletta, who had just finished changing George.

“Mama, there’s a hippie outside!”

She put George in his playpen and went to the door.

“May I help you?” Aletta glanced past the tall man to the gang outside.

“You a psychic, lady? I mean a real one, ’cause I ain’t payin’ you shit if you’re a fake,” he grumbled.

“That’s what everyone says, and some figure out how to say it without cussin’. Can you imagine?” Aletta was surprised at herself. This man was probably a Hell’s Angel or something. She stood there hesitating, trying to think of a good enough reason to run him off. But the sign was out, big as June, and she figured it’d probably be less dangerous to give him what he wanted than to make him mad by turning him away.

Anyway, the truth was she needed the money, wherever it came from.

“Come on in,” she said, “but mind your manners.”

She sat him down on the couch and just looked at him before beginning, unsure if she should touch him. He wore a denim shirt with the sleeves cut off and embroidery on the shoulders, and his black leather pants were filthy. His eyes were green, an unusual soft shade that Aletta didn’t think she’d ever seen before. It seemed that he’d built up layers of toughness and meanness from the inside out, but his eyes had somehow been unaffected.

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