Free Home Fires by Luanne Rice Page A

vent; Maggie huddled in front of it.
    “It's adorable!” Vanessa squealed as Eugene pulled her onto the bed.
    “It's home twenty-five days out of the month,” the driver said. Maggie tried to size him up. With Kurt and Eugene there, she felt pretty safe, but you never knew. He was neatly shaven, with short blond hair. He wore a turquoise turtleneck under a colorful ski-style sweater. About thirty years old, very clean-cut. Maggie let herself relax.
    “So, where are you all from?” the driver asked.
    Kurt started telling him about the island. Maggie overheard part of it, but the Bailey's was having a delayed effect, and she started to feel drowsy. Next thing she knew, she smelled pot. Kurt and the driver were passing a joint back and forth.
    “My name's Fritz, by the way,” he said. “How about you?”
    Kurt told him.
    “Y'all got pretty girlfriends, Kurt and Eugene,” he said. The more he talked, the more pronounced his southern accent became.
    “Thanks.” Maggie actually heard Kurt say the word.
    “You bored back there?” he asked, checking his rearview mirror. He met Maggie's eyes dead on. Blushing, she looked away.
    “No,” she said.
    “'Cause if you were, I could offer you some interesting reading material. There in the bookshelf.”
    Maggie ignored him, but Vanessa reached right past her. She pulled down a battered paperback. Maggie didn't want to give her the satisfaction of looking, but Vanessa gently tapped her elbow. Maggie glanced over.
    The cover showed a naked woman lying in a field. Purple bruises covered her body; a cord cut deeply into her neck. Her tongue, black and bloated, protruded from her mouth. It was a real photograph of a dead woman. The book's title was
Bitch
.
    Maggie and Vanessa looked at each other. Eugene was stoned, his eyes closed. Quietly, Maggie slid the book back onto the shelf.
    “What'd y'all find?” Fritz asked, half turning in his seat.
    “Nothing,” Maggie said steadily.
    “C'mon—I saw you looking at one of my books. Don't keep it to yourself.”
    Kurt swung around to give Maggie a dirty look.
    “He's nice enough to give us a ride,” Kurt said. “Don't be a jerk.”
    Maggie stared at him calmly, trying to communicate to him that there was a reason why she wasn't eager to look through the books with Fritz. At the same time she kept glancing at Fritz, to make sure he had both hands on the wheel.
    “Like I said, you boys have yourselves two sweet ladies.”
    That seemed to make Kurt feel okay. He relaxed, facing forward again. Vanessa reached for Maggie's hand, and she squeezed it.
    “Matter of fact, I would be very happy to pay a hundred bucks to fuck either one of them. If that doesn't offend you, that is.”
    Maggie felt her throat close around a sharp cry. Vanessa's mouth had dropped open; she was shaking Eugene to wake him up.
    Now Fritz and Kurt were conferring, their heads close together. Good, Maggie thought. Kurt's playing it cool. Instead of blowing up, causing a big scene and setting off God knows what kind of reaction a creep like Fritz might have, he's reasoning with him. Maggie tried to send Kurt a silent message. She gave him permission to tell Fritz anything he wanted: that she and Vanessa had STDs, AIDS, anything.
    Fritz nodded. He seemed to understand Kurt's explanation.
    Now Kurt was climbing into the little cabin, to hold Maggie in his arms. How could she have doubted him before? Shaking with fear, she let him protectively stroke her hair and kiss her face.
    “It's okay,” he whispered in her ear.
    “Let's get out of here,” she whispered back.
    “I know. I know.”
    “Right now, okay?”
    Reaching for the book, she laid it on her knee, so Kurt would understand that they were dealing with a sick one.
    “The thing is,” Kurt whispered, “he'll pay one hundred bucks
cash,
right now. All you have to do is let him . . . you know. It's no different than if he were some guy at school. I'm not your first guy anyway, and if it doesn't bother