Free Love and Other Wounds by Jordan Harper Page B

ears by a scream coming out the door. I ran inside, my fists balled at my sides, hoping he didn’t have a gun.
    He probably had a gun.
    The inside of the bar looked like someone had picked the whole place up, turned it upside down, and given it a shake. The register was popped open and the cash drawer hung crookedly out, the shelf lifted to search out the underneath. Bottles had been shoved off the shelf, some of them breaking on the floor. A cloud of booze stung my eyes and plugged my nose. All this came to me out of the sides of my mind. Right there in the foreground was a big old boy with an arm inked with jailhouse tats wrapped around Jolene’s throat. His other hand muffled the screams with his palm. Jolene’s eyes bulged out over his hand, and her own hands didn’t fight his but instead clutched her black leather purse.
    â€œJust stand back there, pops,” he said with an Oklahoma twang. “Keep a cool head and we can all walk out of this.”
    â€œFunny words coming from a man just trashed my bar.”
    He barked a little laugh at that.
    â€œBrother, I just got here. This little bitch,” and he gave hera shake for emphasis, “is the fucking source of all our troubles, yours and mine. I don’t know how she’s been playing you, but if I had to guess, I think I could. I know how she suckered me.”
    He took his arm away from her throat and cupped the crotch of her leather pants. She tried to say something through his other hand, but it kept it muffled.
    â€œPlayed me but good, brother, and now she’s playing you. When I came through that door she’d done cleaned your register out.”
    I took a step forward. The place was cleaned out, all right.
    â€œYou really Jackie Blue?” Cole asked.
    For the first time in a long time, I said yes.
    He shook his head sort of sad like.
    â€œWell, that’s what I get for opening my big fat mouth. I done told this cooze enough stories about Jackie Blue back in the day to fill her head with ’em. See, my pops used to ride through here, and he always told me that back then the hardest man in the hills was Jackie Blue. And so when we’d ride by, I’d always have to tell this bitch here about it. I guess I might have oversold you and made Jolene here get some mighty bad ideas.”
    She tried to shake her head, but I could see it was true. She’d known just who I was the moment she’d walked through the door. Makes sense. Lucky is just what you call someone when you don’t know how smart they are.
    â€œThat may be,” I said, “but still all the same, if a gal wants to take her leave of you, it’s best to let ’em go without a fuss. What do you say?”
    He laughed and yanked Jolene’s purse out of her hands. He shook it and it dumped out on the floor, and first out came all my money that she stole and then came pinkish-white bricks, one two three.
    â€œBrother,” he said as I watched the Nazi dope pile on the floor,“it ain’t the leaving so much as the stealing that bothers me.”
    Well, damn.
    â€œAll right,” I said. “I see it now. She done played you and then she played me. Figures. So you take what’s yours and get on out and we’ll call it a day. How’s that sound?”
    â€œSounds fine,” he said, then turned to Jolene. “Scoop that shit up—leave Jackie Blue’s money—and let’s get going. Let you have one last ride before you get yours.”
    â€œNo,” I said. “You don’t get it. The lady stays.”
    He looked at me like I gone plumb crazy.
    â€œJackie, I know she’s got a snatch like hot butter, but come on—this bitch is pure poison. You can’t want her to stick around after she tried to rob the both of us.”
    That’s so. But as much as I might like to see it, I can’t let him hurt her. See, even if it was partway, or even in total, a lie, that girl made