Whistle Pass by KevaD Page B

behind. Gabe was safe from the world as long as he stayed in Whistle Pass… as long as he wasn’t involved in the upcoming battle with Dora Black. A gentle letdown wouldn’t work on a tender soul like Gabe’s. The man would always be asking why they couldn’t see each other and talk, or just be friends while hoping the relationship would grow. Every time they were together would be another huge risk for Gabe. Charlie sucked on his lower lip. This seedling needed to be cut before it took deeper root. And he only knew one way to do it. Charlie laid his head on the top of the seat and squeezed the words out of his throat.
    “What’s it like being a prostitute? You only bare your ass for the rich guys, or you troll us freams on slow nights? I’ll bet you give a hell of a blowjob. Those extra? Or all part of the deal?”
    The temperature fell through the floor. Gabe eased the car off the roadway. Tall grass scraped the undercarriage until the car stopped its momentum. With his foot on the brake, he popped the gear lever into neutral. His gaze stayed straight ahead, his voice distant as the Wisconsin pines Charlie wished he’d never left. The muffler’s chug strummed the chords of silence.
    Gabe’s index fingers raised and lowered on the steering wheel. His gaze never shifted. “That….” His jaw worked back and forth. He dragged a hand over his face. “That really what you think of me?”
    Charlie’s guts rolled over and his temples throbbed, but he rotated his torso toward Gabe and held out open palms. “Who am I to fault a guy for making a little money on the side? So, what’s the bath and bed gonna cost me? I don’t have much cash.”
    “Please get out.” The voice, empty of emotion, remained tightly controlled. “Please.”
    Charlie rubbed his palms on his thighs. “Suit yourself.” He opened the door and climbed out. The car crawled onto the pavement and slowly, very slowly, gained speed until the taillights finally disappeared.
    Charlie lit a cigarette and stared into the darkness. Cigarette between his fingers, he rubbed his forehead. Gabe was like all the others who’d never faced the wrong end of a gun. They all thought they wanted to know what they’d do when the bullets came at them , but truth be told, most couldn’t handle knowing. They couldn’t handle the fact they’d shit themselves, or cry, or be scared beyond a level of fear they never knew existed. Or that, no matter what they did, how they handled their fear, if it was their time to die… they’d die. And there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.
    Gabe needed to stay in Whistle Pass—where he was safe.
    A wash of yellow light swept over Charlie. The car stopped a few yards behind him. A lasso of red light swung about him.
    “You and me need to talk, boy.”
    Charlie tossed his coat to the ground. He placed his left hand over his right fist and cracked his knuckles. Then he exchanged one for the other and cracked the knuckles of his left fist. He turned and tried to see over the headlights, but the glare hid where the copper might be.
    “Officer Austin.” Charlie growled, clenched and unclenched his fists. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you. I hope you brought your sap, because I’m going to stick it up your ass.”
    Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk .
    Every drop of blood in Charlie’s veins plunged into his feet. Nothing else on earth made that sound—only a shotgun jacking a round into the chamber.

Chapter 11

     
    G ABE slammed the car door. Slammed the street door to his apartment building. Slammed the door to his apartment.
    “Damn you, Charlie Harris!” He stomped over to the windows, spun around, and stomped his way to the bathroom door. He fixated on the grain of the wood—coarse, like Charlie Harris. And the door had once been a tree. Probably butchered by Charlie Harris and his little hatchet.
    He drew back and smacked a fist into the offending symbol of his anger.
    “ Ow! ” He shook his hand like Betty