The Flood Girls - Richard Fifield Page 0,27

Jake.

Krystal handed him a stack of shirts, and Jake hung them, waiting for his mother to leave, for this conversation to be over.

“I’m not getting baptized,” said Jake, still refusing to look at her.

“This is about Bert.”

“It always is,” Jake said, and continued to stare into his closet until he heard his mother leave.

The Biggest Problem

Laverna was discharged from the hospital two days after she had been admitted. They let her go early, because she was a particularly cantankerous patient.

The casts were ridiculous. Laverna felt they could have done better, done something more convenient, and told the doctor so. Her arms were stuck straight out in front of her and propped up on tiny rods attached to a removable harness. Laverna had sustained extensive injuries up to her biceps, and now she had no use of her arms.

“You can wiggle your thumbs,” said the doctor hopefully. “That’s a good sign.”

“I don’t hitchhike,” said Laverna.

Red Mabel refused the wheelchair, as she and Laverna had managed to absolve themselves from any official hospital policy. Red Mabel opened every single door as they made their way through the hospital lobby, and they watched as the nurses finally relaxed at the front desk. Red Mabel’s truck was jacked up on giant wheels, and she had to push Laverna up into the passenger seat. Laverna rested her casts on the dashboard as they drove back to Quinn. On the ride home, plans for revenge against the Clinkenbeards were discussed, but none seemed ruthless enough.

“I think we should capture a bear and set it loose in their kitchen,” suggested Red Mabel.

“No,” said Laverna. “I think we should cast a spell. We need witch books. You’re going to have to take me to the library.” Red Mabel ignored this, as Laverna’s latest round of painkillers had finally taken effect.

Red Mabel helped Laverna inside her house and led her to the couch. She offered to make her coffee, but Laverna asked for a beer instead, although she quickly discovered that drinking was just as impossible as smoking. She sent Red Mabel to the grocery store for straws, and her truck was gone for more than an hour, most likely staking out the Clinkenbeard residence.

When Red Mabel returned, they found that the phone was also a problem. Red Mabel had to dial, and stick the receiver in between ­Laverna’s shoulder and ear. Laverna liked to talk on the phone, liked to issue proclamations to her staff and spread gossip, or start gossip, but now it was uncomfortable for her to twist her neck for so long. Red Mabel held the phone up to Laverna’s ear, and she called Tabby at home and warned her that she would need paper and a pen for all of the directions she was about to unleash.

“I don’t trust Rachel one bit,” said Laverna. “You need to watch her. Keep her away from the men. Keep her away from the jukebox. Do not let her talk to the jukebox vendor, or she will change every single goddamn song to heavy metal. Music like that will only encourage those silver miners to create havoc and destroy things. I’ve had enough destruction, thank you very much.”

“Okay,” said Tabby.

“Now,” demanded Laverna. “Write these things down.”

Laverna launched into the day-to-day operations she would no longer be able to micromanage. Laverna had memorized the numbers of the beer vendors, as well as the number of the man who leased the poker machines. Laverna had not memorized the number of the food distributor. Every week, Ronda just handed the driver her order form, silent as usual.

“I also want you to keep an eye on Ronda’s orders,” said Laverna. “If you think she’s ordering extra food to steal for whatever goddamn tribe she’s from, you call me. Immediately. I don’t want free fried chicken from the Dirty Shame being eaten in every teepee across the Northwest.”

“Okay,” said Tabby.

“Are you writing this down?”

“Of course,” said Tabby.

“Your biggest problem is going to be Rachel. She’s always been my biggest problem, but I have suffered life-threatening injuries, and I simply can’t deal with her right now.”

“I thought he just shot your arms.”

“Shut up,” said Laverna.

Red Mabel took the phone away from her. She could hear Tabby squawking something, but the conversation was over as far as she was concerned.

“Light me a cigarette,” demanded Laverna, and Red Mabel obliged.

Ten minutes later, Laverna asked Red Mabel to put her to bed. It took half an hour rearranging pillows and bedding until Laverna was comfortable. It was

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