A Hand of Spades

Chapter 7. Undercover

After Cash disappears, I grill Tex thoroughly on his morning with Blister. She was scared at first, asked a million questions. She kept her arms crossed and rolled her eyes when she was denied information.

She looked like she'd been crying, but she put on a brave front. When he'd delivered her to Pearl's, he'd walked her upstairs to the bedroom and she'd gone quiet.

"I just watched her touch the duvet. It was like she'd never seen one before."

The bed in the trailer is a double with mismatched threadbare sheets and scratchy pillowcases I liberated from the local motel last year. I'm sure the room at Pearl's place looked like a five star hotel in comparison.

"She's got her own space over there. Pearl set her up with a laptop for her schoolwork so she doesn't have to go down to the library."

"Really?" Sounds like Blister is better off where she is. A little of the guilt eases off my chest. I shoot her a text anyways.

You ok? Settled in?

Her reply comes quickly. 

Yea

Everyone treating you well?

Yea

"Good, that's good." I say, more to myself.

"Cool kid." I glance up and Tex is looking out at the trees with a warm degree of fondness on his features. 

"You think so?"

"Yep. Tough like her sister."

"I don't know about that." I sigh. "She gets that toughness from somewhere else." This prompts a little bubble of sadness in my chest, so I change the subject. "So you're a Black Spade."

"Yes ma'am."

"Just call me Jane." It's the third time already this morning that I've asked him to do so. I have a feeling it won't stick, especially when I catch the teasing grin on his face. "How long have you been a Black Spade for?"

"'Bout a decade now, I'd wager. I started young, same as Cash. We've known each other since we were boys, 'course he's older than I am. How old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"I thought you must be younger, given your sister's age. Thirteen years apart, that's quite the gap."

"We make it work."

"Good thing she has you, given that your Mama's gone." He hangs his head slightly. "How long has it been since she died?"

"I was twenty. Blister was only seven. Poor kid." We'd buried her in the Throckmorton cemetery. Her headstone was small, her gravesite unremarkable, and I'd felt nothing but the gnawing of a newfound financial burden as we watched her lower into the ground. Bliss had wailed for her mother. We didn't even hold each other, her and I. I don't think we ever have.

Every year Blister visits Mom's grave on her birthday with wildflowers and a picture she's drawn. I usually sit in the car smoking cigarettes with the engine still running. Throckmorton County is not a kind place, but my world became kinder without my mother alive. Even now, assaulted and threatened, I am glad she's not here to rub salt in the wound.

"Slut."  She hissed, looking strikingly small and sickly against the viciousness of her tone.  Her skin had gone sallow and waxy. "I don't want to see you."

"You're near the end." I said, vibrating with some mix of rage and fear. "Is this  really how you want to go?"

"Get out!" She screamed pointing at me with a boney finger. For the first time in my life, I didn't shrink away. I leveled my gaze at her and prepared to speak.