Eagle shook his head. “I don’t give a fuck,” he muttered. “She’ll be covered in shit again as soon as she gets the chance.”
Something painful flared to life in my chest. He thought I was disgusting. I knew I shouldn’t care what he thought, because what did it matter? But for some reason, I did care. I couldn’t help it. And that scared me more than the scissors at my back.
Chapter Twenty-One
Eagle
“There ain’t really a whole lot I can do here, honey,” the older woman whispered in Autumn’s ear while she looked nervously over at me.
I rolled my eyes. My hearing was impeccable. At this very moment I could hear a couple arguing behind a building, the hushed yet shrill voices carrying over the crowd. I could hear the music playing from a nearby bar, some god-awful country-and-western song, and just down an adjacent path, I could hear someone taking a piss.
“We’re gonna have to cut all this mess off.” The woman tugged on Autumn’s long hair, on the bits that were matted and dreading. “After that’s gone, I’ll whip up something wonderful for ya.”
“It’s okay,” Autumn answered, her voice strained. “Just cut it.”
Clasping her palms together, Autumn pressed both her hands between her knees and squeezed her eyes shut. The woman glanced up at me worriedly, and I nodded and gestured for her to continue. How fucking hard was it to get a damn haircut?
The woman set to work, mindlessly chopping off odd bits of hair too tangled to be salvaged, until Autumn’s brown hair looked like a mismatch of drastically different shades and lengths. Some strands were brighter than others, probably from sun exposure, while others were darker.
Picking up a clear bottle with a spray nozzle head, the woman began spraying what looked like dirty creek water over Autumn’s remaining hair, soaking it through. Autumn, with her eyes still closed, began to breathe more deeply, her chest rising and falling even more rapidly than before.
“This girl and goddamn water,” I muttered under my breath. Taking a step forward, I readied myself to grab her if she suddenly decided to launch herself off her stool and kill the poor old woman.
Poor woman?the voice asked with surprise.Since when do you have sympathy for the elderly? Or women? Or anyone, for that matter?
Fuck off, I spat back.
“I’m thinkin’ here,” the woman mumbled, looking to me for approval. Her hand was level with Autumn’s chin. “It’s the only way it’ll be even.”
“Do I look like I care?” I said. “Just fucking cut it.”
To further motivate her, I turned away and headed toward a tent filled with odds and ends. The guy manning it was a middle-aged man who looked as unkempt, and about as useful, as his goods did. He eyed me carefully, first the vulture in my grip and then my face, shrewdly assessing my mood. He probably wondered if he needed to reach for the gun at his hip.
While keeping one eye on the man and his gun, I scanned the junk strewn about, most of it useless shit that no one used anymore, let alone needed. A pile of table clocks, a couple of sets of mismatched skis, and strangest of all, boxes upon boxes of Christmas decorations.
“What’s with the Christmas shit?” I asked, nodding at the boxes. “Nobody’s celebrated Christmas in a fuck of a long time.”
The man seemed to relax once I’d spoken, no longer deeming me a threat. Taking a step forward, he stuck out his hand in greeting. “Samuel,” he said, his voice as raspy and grating as ten miles of bad road on bald tires. “I already know you. Hell, everyone knows you,” he said and gave me a crooked smile.
Ignoring his hand, I pinned him with a hard stare. “The decorations?”
Frowning, Samuel dropped his hand. “I got ’em all. Christmas, New Year’s, Easter, Saint Patty’s Day—” He stopped abruptly and dug through his messy piles. “Aha!” he exclaimed and dropped to one knee. Rummaging through a dirty cardboard box, he pulled free his find and jumped to his feet.
“For Memorial D—”
I stared long and hard, anger burning through me. I reached over and snatched the intricately folded flag from his grasp and tucked the triangle safely inside my denim jacket, under my arm.
“You fuck,” I spat out, and Samuel’s eyes grew round with shock. “This is an American flag. And not just any American flag, this was a flag given to the family of a fallen soldier. This isn’t a goddamn decoration!”
My uncle and my grandfather had both served in the military, and although I’d given little thought to the Armed Forces since they’d been eradicated altogether, seeing that flag had brought to life something inside me. Something I hadn’t felt in a long damn time.
It wasn’t a decoration, it wasn’t a prop, it sure as fuck wasn’t meant to be sold, and it definitely wasn’t something to be buried beneath a box full of shit lying on the ground. It was a memory. The last blanket to ever cover the soldier it had belonged to, and then presented to the family of the fallen in appreciation for their service. For the life they’d sacrificed.
This flag was a motherfucking privilege, one that Samuel had no right to.
Samuel put his hands up in the air. “Listen, buddy,” he said. “I didn’t mean no harm. I’m a collector, is all. Trying to keep the spirit of humanity alive here.”
Giving him a nasty grin, I took another step closer until my large shadow covered him. “Never once seen anyone buying jack shit from you. Looks to me like you’re trying to keep a bunch of shit long dead alive.”
