The Take by Mike Dennis

shit.
    Well, how about somewhere else in this
country. I mean, shouldn’t I be running right now? Moving? Doing something?
Laying low? Driving to, like, South Dakota or someplace, where Salazar’ll never
find me?
    Why am I sitting here right out in the
open? Just a six-hour damn drive from Houston. Felina was right. We should be
on the move … but … but … I gotta see Linda.
    I just gotta see her.
    The
music escalated. So, eventually, did all the other noise, up and up, in all
keys, major and minor, dominant and relative, louder and faster than before. He
couldn’t feel any letup, until he reached for his shot of bourbon and slammed
it back, ignoring the chaser. It scored.
    He
pulled himself together a little for a few more minutes of quivering calm. Soon, Linda took a break,
then came over to join them.
    She
gave Eddie a big, long hug, as all her earlier hostility melted away. “How are
you, baby? Oh, it’s so good to see you. I swear.”
    He
settled down, lovingly patting her back, as he returned the hug. “It’s been way
too long, darlin’. I wish I’d come here before. I’ve really missed you.” And
right then, he meant it.
    They
whispered a few more personal things to one another, while their hands ran
across each other’s backs. Eddie held onto her just an extra moment or two,
losing himself in the familiar, sensual contact with her body conforming to his,
inhaling her natural scent that took him way back.
    He
broke the hug, and then he said, “Linda, I want you to meet Felina. She’s very
special to me. And — and this’s Lowell Garner. He’s from Brenham. We gave
him a ride over here — well, not all the way, exactly, y’see his car broke
down over by Lake Charles an’ —”
    Linda’s
eyes stayed on Felina. She didn’t like what she saw. Cheap cotton clothes
clinging to firm curves, lips parted in a permanent pout, with an invisible
sign hanging from her neck, asking Wouldn’t
you love to fuck me? Searching her black eyes, Linda found nothing, only
inky veils covering everything that lay behind them. She extended a cool hand.
    “Welcome
to New Orleans, Felina.”
    Felina
returned the hand, as well as the scrutiny. Linda’s hair bothered her right
away. Not because of its thick, wavy style, which Felina knew would draw
maximum attention from men, but because of its natural strawberry blonde color.
    Felina
always resented this accident of nature. So did a lot of other dark-complected females, who
sometimes questioned their own sexuality whenever men rushed right past them to
endlessly fawn over women with blonde hair.
    She
also noted Linda’s body, neither particularly voluptuous nor sexpot-tight. Her
slim, well-tended contours integrated well with her personality, allowing her
to move stylishly, with a fluid grace. Her face didn’t hide her age, but like
finely-weathered wood, it looked pretty good.
    “Thank
you, Linda,” replied Felina. “And thank you for letting us stay with you. It
was very kind.”
    “Uh,
Linda,” Eddie broke in. “Like I said, this’s Lowell Garner. We gave him a lift
from Lake Charles —”
    “Why,
they did more’n that.” Garner shook Linda’s hand. “They helped out a stranger
in trouble along the roadside, and now they invite me over here to meet you. So
I guess that makes me twice grateful and ten times happier.”
    Linda
smiled a thank you at Garner, their eyes locking for the moment. Then she
slowly turned to Eddie.
    “Now,
why’d you come to New Orleans, little brother?”
    Eddie
fidgeted. He shot his eyes once toward Garner, who still focused on Linda. “Well,
um, uh — we’re just here for a, um, a couple of days. We, uh —”
    She
picked it up. “Okay, okay,” she said, waving it off. But those two okays also
said, We’ll get to it later, and you
better let it all out, and Eddie knew it.
    Another
round arrived at the table, and his hand shook a little. He brought the shot
glass to his lips, trying to steady the tremble, but with no