Twenty minutes on the road and I was convinced Priscilla’s female whole was not made from the sum of her parts, which were mostly rigid muscle. I feared her crunked angles would permanently injure her long frame. I also feared her knees would permanently dent my backside.
Her hands were also placed on my body in places for which I normally charged an admission of sorts.
“Let’s not get too friendly back here, Priscilla,” I hissed under the syncopated beat of Burning Love.
“I’m just trying to take my mind off the extreme pain,” said Priscilla, “and my real name is Eddie.”
“I would shake your hand, but it seems to be occupied with my boob, Eddie.”
“Don’t get so excited, Kate Jackson. There’s not a lot of boob to occupy.”
The van had slowed from its former interstate cruising speed, but now the engine downshifted into a crawl. I could also hear the steady dinking of the turn signal.
“He’s getting ready to pull in somewhere,” I said. “Get prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” Priscilla-Eddie whispered into my ear.
“To get out, obviously.” I risked a quick pop up looksie through the back window and fell back on top of Priscilla. “I think we’re back in Memphis. Little Jimmy’s taking a lunch break. He’s pulling into some hamburger place. Dixie Queen.”
“Oh, I love me some Dixie Queen,” said Priscilla. “Haven’t been there since I was a child. They have the best burgers and fries. And their freezes, Lord almighty. Not too icy, not too liquidy. Dixie Queen makes them just right. I would love an orange freeze right now.”
My stomach sputtered into high alert.
Beneath me, Priscilla cringed. “What’s wrong with this van? I think the engine’s going to blow.”
“Hush, he’s pulling into the drive-thru. When he stops, we’re getting out.”
Little Jimmy turned down the music and braked in the drive-thru lane. I grasped the release handle and pulled. The back door flew open and Priscilla and I spilled out onto the asphalt. I scrambled behind the nearby holly bushes, dragging Priscilla behind me.
Inside the truck, Little Jimmy had turned around in his seat and stared openmouthed at his rear door.
“Poor Little Jimmy, let’s hope that didn’t give him a heart attack,” said Priscilla. “He’s gonna think the van has turned into Christine.”
After filling up on bacon cheeseburgers and purple cow milkshakes, Priscilla and I caught another taxi back to the Heartache.
In the Suspicious Minds Bar, Todd and Byron occupied stools on one side of the black pleather bar, while the Colonel held court on the side holding the bottles. They whispered among longnecks until they caught sight of Priscilla and I traipsing across the beer and tequila stained carpet. Double takes ensued, which Priscilla took none too kindly.
“Honey, I’ve shed a ton of Swarovski crystals, my hair is unbalanced, and I lost a falsie,” said Priscilla. “Never set me alone with this child again. I’m going to the little girl’s room to freshen up.”
“Did you get in a fight at the art shop?” asked the Colonel. “You’re limping.”
“She’s still a little jacked up,” I said, “but we didn’t get in a fight and we never made it to the art store. However, it’s been an interesting morning. I saw parts of the country I hope never to see again. Except for the Dixie Queen, which I would visit every day if I lived here.”
The Colonel served me an eyeball roll I did not appreciate, so I turned toward the man who never found my statements eyeball-rolling worthy.
“Hey baby,” Todd said, once again forgetting I had a given name. “Did y’all have fun?”
I pondered that question for a few and waited for the Colonel to pour a drink for a customer. “I wouldn’t exactly call it fun. More like a fact-finding mission,” I whispered. “I learned that Little Jimmy knows Santa Elvis and the Angry Elf, from the Heartache’s Blue Christmas show. They like to hang out in real estate offices in dicey parts of town.”
“Cool,” said Todd and elbowed Byron. “Told you Cherry was good at figuring stuff out.”
“What do you think it means?” said Byron.
“I don’t trust Little Jimmy and we already know he’s involved in the underground poker scene. The elf and Santa Elvis might be, too. Or it’s one odd coincidence.”
I cut short our conversation as Priscilla wandered back into the bar with her phone in her hand. She tucked the phone into her purse and scooted onto a bar stool next to us.
“I didn’t have such good luck today,” said Todd. “I lost a bunch of money at the tables in Arkansas.”
“What the hell, Todd,” I said. “I thought you were good at poker. How did you end up getting in a Vegas tournament when you can’t even beat these Memphis losers?”
“Watch your mouth now,” said Priscilla. “This ain’t no hayseed town like where y’all are from.”
“How are we going to save Byron’s Christmas if Todd can’t win tonight? I spent my day wrapped around a drag queen in the back of a van when I could have been at an art museum. A guy named Little Jimmy stuck my best sketchpad in a paper shredder. I spent all my sketching money on taxis and the Dixie Queen. And now Byron’s kids’ Christmas memories will be of their momma taking the cast iron to their daddy.”
Byron rubbed the back of his head and winced.
“Todd, you have to play better tonight,” I begged.
Todd circled his arms around me and pressed me to his chest, probably more to smother my hollering than in affection. He smoothed my hair and set a kiss on top of my head. “It’s going to be all right, baby. These nice people here are going to help us win Byron’s money back. We’re going to work together. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
I turned away from Todd and eyed the Colonel. “I’m counting on you to make this work.”
“Then I advise you to stop following around Elvis and focus on your part.” The Colonel drew a cigar from his pocket and rolled it between his fingers. “We still need those art supplies. Our guy at Graceland has a work order written up. We need to pick it up and set up your scene before four o’clock. You’re the cover, so you’ve got to be inside before the players.”
“I’ll take you to the art shop,” said Todd. “Byron, are you coming?”
He shook his blond mane. “I’m catching a ride with the Colonel.”
“Be at Graceland by four,” said the Colonel. “Jupiter is Fred’s buddy who works at the Art Shop.”
“Jupiter?” I said. “Like I need more space cadets in my life.”