Homicide My Own - Anne Argula [8]
“I should, you know, call,” said Stacey.
“Not a good idea,” said Charles.
“Just to let her know everything’s okay.”
“You think everything’s okay?”
“You know….”
“It is okay. Everything is fine. We’re together. I’ll take care of you.”
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Stacey. I’m crazy for you, like literally. I’m insane.”
“Me too! I’m out of my mind.”
“There’s no turning back now.”
They held hands again, but with the free hand they kept on feeding. They were in love, but it had been some time since they’d last eaten.
“I’m going to have to get a job somewhere,” said Charles.
“I can get a job too.”
“What doing?”
“Anything. At a MacDonald’s, or in a store or something. Let’s go to Hawaii!”
“All right.”
“Really?”
“Whatever you want, sweetie. Only first, we have to get jobs and save enough to get there.”
“We can put it on your credit card.”
“I can’t use that anymore. They can trace you through your credit card, map your whereabouts day by day.”
King George by then had heard quite enough to get the picture and to wonder what role he and his tribe should play, if any, in this little drama. His options? He could finish his coffee, go about his business, and keep one eye on them until they left, which he assumed would be shortly after they had eaten all they could hold. If something unfolded afterwards, however, something untoward… if he killed her or she killed him, or if they held up the cafe or mugged an old Indian, or maybe killed themselves in a lovers’ suicide pact, which was not all that remote an idea since their conversation had turned to the eventual movie of their lives and who should play each of them in the major production, which she decided ought to be Leonardo de Caprio and Drew Barrymore and he countered with the argument that he was too young and she was too old, Leonardo and Drew, that is…if anything like that happened and it was later revealed they had spent some time in the casino, it would all come back to what was an underaged girl doing in a tribal casino and where was security? Or he could go over there and invite them both to follow him to the room where they talk to people, away from the action, which always runs the risk of a public relations faux pas, embarrassing but not really all that dangerous since you can’t sue Indians.
For the moment, King George just nursed his coffee and listened in on what the couple imagined might be the true happy ending to their scenario.
“We could get married,” mused Charles.
The young girl leapt to her feet, danced around the table, and planted a kiss on his lips.
Some midnight snackers looked up from their macaroni and meat sauce, thinking some lucky bastard had hit a Keno combo.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she trilled, though to King George’s ears it sounded like something less than an actual proposal of marriage. Charles smiled, entertained by her youthful enthusiasm, as was King George, in his way, but he never smiled. Stoicism was his birthright.
“We could leave the country,” she said, still on her feet, “we could get married in Hawaii. That’d prove to everybody we were seriously in love, that would show the whole world the power of love over cops.”
“It’s a thought,” said Houser.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she accepted for the sixth time.
“If we even could get legally married…” Charles mused.
“If? Why can’t we? Legally married? Can’t we?”
“Maybe. For sure we’d need your mother’s permission, though. Hawaii’s, you know, a state.”
“Shit…. There’s always something shooting down a cool idea. Wait. You know what? She might go for it. She might be glad to get rid of me. She always calls me a real handful. She gets all drama queeny and goes, ‘You are the revenge of my own youth.’ She might be thrilled to have you take me off her hands!”
He talked to her in a soft and loving way, trying to calm her down. “Things have to cool down a bit, honey.