A young woman had stepped out onto the porch. Midnight-black hair fell down to the small of her back. Her skin was nearly the color of burnished bronze. Under any other circumstances Buddy Lee would have found her ravishing. Her big brown doe eyes peeked out at them under flowing lashes.
The shotgun she was pointing at them cast a shadow that dimmed her loveliness.
“Yeah, she’s a defenseless damsel in goddamn distress,” Buddy Lee said.
THIRTY-TWO
“Hey easy now, sis, we just wanna talk,” Buddy Lee said.
“Whatever you selling we ain’t buying. Whatever you wanna talk about we ain’t listening,” the woman said.
“Are you Tangerine?” Ike asked. She swung the barrel of the shotgun in his direction. Ike noticed she had the stock cradled in the crook of her arm and was holding the pump with the opposite hand. But her finger wasn’t in the trigger guard. Ike studied her. The tremble of her full lips. The wild rapid movement of her eyes. They darted side to side like weasels trapped in a cage. She was scared. She was nervous. She was gorgeous. She was a lot of things, but a killer wasn’t one of them. He knew what a killer looked like. He saw one in the mirror every day.
“Who I am doesn’t matter, papi. Now you and discount Sam Elliott get back in your truck and get out of here,” Tangerine said.
“That’s the second time I’ve been compared to that ol’ boy in a less-than-flattering way. I think my feelings starting to get hurt,” Buddy Lee said.
“Oh gee, I’m sorry. Maybe you should leave and seek therapy,” Tangerine said.
“Isiah was kind to you. Derek wanted to help you. Isiah was my son. Derek was his. They died because of what you told them. Our sons are dead because of you. The least you can do is talk to us,” Ike said.
Tangerine flinched. Ike thought she was batting her eyelashes at him until he saw the dark lines of mascara start to trickle down her cheeks. Ike was sick to death of tears. His own, Mya’s. Isiah was the star in their universe. When he had died that star had collapsed in on itself creating a black hole. That black hole swallowed every ounce of joy they had ever felt. All because this girl on the porch had a secret lover who was willing to kill to stay a secret. She hadn’t pulled the trigger but she was damn sure involved. Let her weep until she cried blood.
“I didn’t mean for any of that to happen,” Tangerine said. The streaks on her face gave her a Lone Ranger mask.
“Then put down the seed-sower and talk to us, girl,” Buddy Lee said. Tangerine bit her bottom lip. Ike watched the barrel of the shotgun lower in minute increments. The wind stirred, engulfing them in the scent of magnolias.
“Come on inside,” Tangerine said.
“I’ll feel better when that scattergun ain’t in her hands,” Buddy Lee whispered.
“If she was gonna shoot us she would have done it already,” Ike said.
“Oh well, that’s good,” Buddy Lee said.
They stepped up on the porch and entered the house. The scent of whiskey permeated the foyer and the front room. A saggy sofa sat in the middle of the front room. Grainy images flickered across an ancient floor-model television that sat near the couch at an angle. A dining table stuck halfway out of a kitchen and into the living room. Tangerine placed the shotgun on the table.
“Terry, who is that?”
A tall white woman came from the back of the house. She was wearing a floral print housedress and flip-flops. Her doughy face was partially hidden by lank blond curls that spilled to her chin.
“Tangerine, Ma. My name is Tangerine, and it’s nobody. Go lay down,” Tangerine said. Ma acknowledged Ike but her eyes lingered on Buddy Lee.
“No, no, we have guests. Invite your friends in. I’ll make some drinks,” Ma said.
“You must be Lunette. I like the way you think,” Buddy Lee said. He gave her a wink. Lunette giggled.
“Ma, they ain’t gonna be here that long,” Tangerine said.
“Well, they can at least stay for one drink,” Lunette said. With the matter settled, she turned and headed back into the rear of the house. Buddy Lee heard her moving around in the kitchen. He could see that the hallway had a cut-through that led to the kitchen.
“Sit,” Tangerine said. Ike and Buddy Lee went into the front room. In addition to the sofa there was a recliner and an ottoman. Ike and Buddy Lee sat on the sofa and Tangerine sat in the chair. Ike took in the rest of the room. There was a woodstove in the far corner. Framed pictures were scattered over the weathered walls at haphazard intervals. Ike saw a younger version of Lunette and a diminutive brown-skinned man in some of them. In others there was an older Lunette, with a few more miles on her face and a bright-eyed little boy with a mixture of her and the brown-skinned brother’s features. As the people in the photos aged, the distance between them increased. The brown-skinned brother was conspicuous by his absence in most of the later pictures.