Etta had only been in town for a month.  She'd been taking care of some business in Las Vegas that took a little longer and got a little bloodier than she had anticipated and was on the run.  The moment she came back, she ran into Trouble.  It was good for a moment but something went wrong and Trouble fucked her up good.  She needed to find it again and teach it a lesson.

It was Sunday night.  When she walked into the Hole, it was not only like old times but like time had stopped -- same crap playing on the jukebox, same sons of bitches sitting on barstools, the same gorgeous son of a bitch working behind the bar.  She knew him like the old back roads she'd left behind in Mustang City.  

All she had was strapped to her shoulder; she was packing a runaway bag full of money, trucker's crank and a Smith & Wesson with three bullets left.  She never believed three was a crowd.

He moved up and down the bar like a shark, even with only a few people to wait on.  He was old times; the one she could rely on.  One who could give her refuge from the storm no matter how bad it got.  Too bad she'd broken his heart half a dozen times.  

Is he even going to remember me?
I hope so

She took a seat at the edge of the bar, crossed her legs and put her bag on the hook by her knees.

"Hey, Marty." she said.

He looked over, did a double take.  

"Jesus, Etta.  You look like a ghost."

"Then I must be looking pretty good.  You got a cigarette?"

He came toward her with a pack of Camels.  She watched him walk.  He was still all legs and shoulders and double sleeves full of inked-up Hell on Earth.  Her old man.  There were a lot of hard miles between them.  He handed her a cig and lit it for her with his Zippo.  "What are you doing back?  Last I heard you were..."

"Yeah, yeah.  I know where I was and I know what I was doing.  I'm not here to walk down Memory Lane, Marty."

"So what are you here for?"

She blew out a trail of smoke.  Logistics could wait.  "A cold beer."  Marty grinned.  He knew that wasn't everything.  Nothing could be that easy.  He put a frosty Lone Star in front of her.  "What do I owe you?"

"An answer, doll."

"Those will run you twenty." Etta said, grinning.

His patience was thin.  "How 'bout some honesty?"

"Oh, that's a lot more.  It has nothing to do with what happened with us, though."

"No?  As I recall, you were the one who..."

"Yeah, yeah.  Don't start with me, Marty.  I'm aware of our history." she said, dismissively, knowing deep down he was still icing the burn she gave him back at the church two years ago.  "I'm here because I need you.  I need to know what you know."

"That's what's gonna run you twenty." he said.  An old drunk waved him over for another drink and he walked away.  Etta sat there a moment longer, smoking her Camel, wanting to go into the bathroom and get fixed.  It had only been two hours since her last and she didn't need it yet, she wanted it.  It didn't work like that; that was a real good way to run out before her time and she left her connects dead in the desert.  

Sometimes things don't turn out the way you plan
No, they don't
Better them than me  

Marty stood at the other end of the bar, washing the same pint glasses over and over again.  He'd put a glass in the wash water, rotate it on the brushes, rinse it, and rotate again.  Etta watched him, knowing he was avoiding her.  She couldn't blame him.  Coming back into his life after a year, no warning, nothing, and thinking he was going to help her do anything but get the hell back out of his life again as fast as she blew in.

He washed three pint glasses for ten minutes.  She respected his focus but not his obvious avoidance.

"Marty."

More rinsing and rotating, shot serving, cigarette lighting and money taking.  Dime a dozen but sexy as hell.

"Marty,"

He tapped a new keg of Shiner Bock and closed out a tab.

"Oh, Martin..." she trailed, trying her hardest to conjure a tear from her eye big enough to smear her mascara.  Do the girl thing, get his attention somehow, hang on to it like death, and make him want to listen again.  Be the intrigue.  It wasn't easy.

He looked over.  It had almost reached her chin.  He walked back to her.

"What are you here for."

Etta reached for a bar napkin and carefully wiped the manipulated tear away.  She composed herself quickly, a little too quickly.  

She was scattered.  "I need to put you on the payroll."

He took her ashtray and tapped it against the inside of a trashcan.  "Doing what."

"I need you to help me find someone." Etta said.

"My hunting days are over."  She took a shallow drag on her cigarette and didn't believe him.  He could tell.  She had that smug expression on her face that he knew far too well.  "I'm serious, Etta.  No more."

"I'm not talking about hunting and killing.  I just want to find a guy."

"Why, what guy.  What'd he do to you?" Marty asked.

"He hurt me bad, baby."

Marty smirked.  "And I take it you didn't like the way it felt."

"No."

"Well, that's tough, isn't it?  You did me wrong and don't seem to have any issues with waltzing back in here thinking I'm going to drop everything and help you.  That isn't the way it works, honey.  No dice.  Go find yourself another boy." he said.

"I know you know every beer joint in town.  I'm looking for..."

"Stop, Et.  I don't even want to hear it."

"He's been at the same one for seven years."

"Etta, I'm serious.  I'm gonna give you one of these."  Marty balled up his fist.  

No, you won't

She continued to talk.  "In this town, that's a lifetime.  No one stays put in one place that long.  You've got to know him."

Marty leaned on the bar.  A few cats leapt to mind.  "What's in it for me if I help you.  Are you going to run off again?  Run off with this guy?"

"What do you want?"

Several dirty thoughts leapt to mind.

"I want you to leave town and not come back."

Etta looked at him quizzically.  She shook her head.  "I can't do that, Marty."

"Bullshit.  You're a tumbleweed, a gypsy.  You don't have roots anywhere."

He was right.  But she wanted that to change.

"I like it here."

"You've liked it everywhere, baby."

She took one last drag and ground out her smoke.  Her beer bottle was sweating all over the coaster.  She thought about leaving Texas permanently.  

Oh, what does he know
I could settle in the Panhandle and he'd never know it.  
He could drive up I-10 all day and all night and still never find me

"Okay." she said.  "I'll leave and never come back."

He wanted to believe her but knew she could be anywhere in the state and her smell would still linger, from the Panhandle to I-10.

"Good."

"Are you sure you don't ever want to see me after this?"

He took a smoke out and lit it.  "Start talking.  What's this guy's name?"

"Kenny."

"Kenny?"

"Yeah.  Why -- do you know him?" she asked.

"The name sounds familiar.  How'd you meet him?"

"In a dark alley.  He promised me the stars." Etta said.

"And what did he give you?"

"He made me see stars."

Marty shook his head.  "Fuck."

"I told you he hurt me bad, baby.  I wasn't kidding.  I wished he could have just broken my heart."  Etta picked up her bottle.

"What happened?"

"We were drunk."

"What else?"

"Does there need to be more?" she asked, finally getting upset without having to fake it.

"What's he look like?"

"Six-two.  Long blond hair.  A cross between psychobilly and a Hell's Angel."

"Your taste in men hasn't changed much."

She smirked.  "You were my favorite."

"Yeah."

"He's got a goat skull tattoo in the middle of his chest." Etta said.

Marty blanched.  "Wait a sec -- you said this guy's name is Kenny?"

"Yeah."

"With a goat skull tattoo?"  She nodded.  He shook his head plaintively.  "Christ.  You tangled with the wrong cat, babe."

"No kidding.  Now you know why I need you.  You know everyone in town.  You've got to know where he is."

Someone yelled for another beer.  Marty walked away.  Etta finished her beer and went to the bathroom.  She locked the door and took out her crank.  She lined up a rail on the sink and sniffed it up.  The drip came and she chased it with water from the sink.  She looked at herself in the mirror.  

Anticipate, anticipate, anticipate.  Big bad red.  Big red death.  The louder the better, who cares.  

Kill this fuck.  

Kill him.  Kill him.  Kill him.  

You know what he did.  

Maybe you don't.  Doesn't change things.

She went back to her stool and Marty was standing behind the bar waiting for her.

"So what you want I should do?  Kill this guy?  You kill him?  What?  I know he's a monster, so do you.  Why find him?  You think you can reason with this animal?" Marty asked.

Three bullets left.  One in the leg to make him know what she's feeling.  One in the goat's head to make him feel nothing.  And one in the face to make him look like nothing.

"He might be able to see things my way.  For about five minutes." Etta said.

"Not a good idea, baby.  Take my advice.  Let this one go.  Pretend it didn't happen."

"I can't let him get away with this, Marty.  I want to find him.  Tonight.  And then I'm gone."

He looked into her eyes, her pupils blown.  "You're gone right now."

Etta stood up.  "You know what?  I'll find this fucker on my own.  Forget I came in tonight, Martin.  You won't ever see me again after this."

He wanted to stop her.  He knew if he didn't go with her that this would be her last night on Earth.  She didn't need to go out like that, not at the hands of someone as loose in the head as Kenny was.  

"Alright, hang on a second."  She looked at him.  "I might know where he is.  It's a long shot, but you can try.  And I can't go with you."

"I know how to take care of myself, Marty.  I can get myself out of this mess.  Where is he?"

Marty suddenly didn't want to tell her.  Her last night alive and he couldn't get anything out of it.  What a waste.  "I think he works at The Blue Diamond on Crestview."

"Thanks."  She headed toward the door.

"You're going now?" he asked, somewhat alarmed.

"I'm sorry, but this can't wait."

She left the Hole and started walking.  She knew it was close to two in the morning but she'd make it in time -- he'd be closing the bar, taking out trash, restocking beer, and taking the next day's order down.  Mental preparation, more crank, more guts, more murderous energy... felt like Vegas.  She was surprised at how easy it was to take someone down, especially someone who had it coming.  For a split second, she wondered who the real monster was.

Eye for an eye.  Hurt me and I'll hurt you back.

Don't fuck with me.  I know what it's like to kill a man.

She arrived just after two.  It was a longer walk than she anticipated but the fuel was raging.  She walked to the alley across the street behind the bar, saw that the back door was open and the lights were on.  Guys were hauling out trash, empty beer boxes and bar mats.  There were three of them.

There he was.

How could someone that hot be that evil.

How should I do this?  I bet I can get behind this one dumpster and watch for a little while, see what happens, if he's alone, how long he's taking, whatever.

She perched on a milk crate and took out her crank, fished out her spoon and did another good hit in each nostril.  She felt the burn but didn't care.  

Shit, there's three of them.  Fuck.  Dark haired boy, Mexican boy, Hell's Angel dead boy.

Dead boy fucked me up good.  I wish I could remember it all.  All I know is one second we're making out in his truck and the next I'm dirty and in the hospital with no clothes on.  

What did he do to me
What did he do to me
What did he do to me

That son of a bitch

What did he do to me
I'm still dirty
I'll be dirty for the rest of my life

She reached into her bag and found her gun.  At the ready.  In her hand.  Just waiting for the chance.  The three guys kept walking in and out of the back door, each time with a new load of garbage or boxes.  The Mexican started spraying down the mats.  Kenny stood outside and smoked a cigarette and watched him work.

How could someone that hot be that evil

Etta wanted to get closer but knew that if she did, she risked being seen.  She stayed on the crate.

Up against the wall
Man, fuck Martin
I know how to kill a man
He doesn't know me at all anymore, what I went through in Vegas
What I saw in Vegas
He wouldn't believe me anyway
Fuck that asshole
and fuck THAT asshole
I wonder if I could hit him from here

I doubt it
I'm too far away
Shit

All three guys were outside, shooting the shit as if they didn't have anything better to do after work.  

Fuck, I wish those two assholes would leave so I could get my chance
I can't have any witnesses and they didn't do anything
I don't want to have to kill them, too
I only have three bullets and I already know what I'm going to do
One in his leg
One in his chest
and One in his fucking face
Motherfucker
Christ, why can't I stop sweating

They stood out there for what seemed like forever.  To her, the three minutes it took to smoke a cig was forever.  Her pulse raced out of control, unable to keep up with her thoughts.

Fuck Martin
What does he know
He wasn't there that night
He doesn't know what I went through
If he did, he'd be here with me
I told him enough, didn't I?
Why didn't he want to help?
Shit
I can't be burning these bridges anymore
I'll run out of soldiers

The men went inside.  The Mexican was the last to go in and he shut the door behind him.  The lights went off.

Motherfucker
I can't believe that
I wonder if I sit here long enough I can see one of them leaving
Walking to his car
I'll run into one of them, see if they know who Kenny is
Where he is or where he lives
Then I can go to his house and
No, that would be dumb
I don't even have a car right now
Maybe I can get a bus ticket to Spokane
Stay with my sister for a month
Just until the smoke clears
Man, how am I going to tell her what I've been through?
I left her place to go to Nevada and shit got all fucked up there
Shit, I can't believe I missed my chance
I had him right where I wanted him
I could have killed him and gotten away with it
I just know it

"Hey."

The voice behind Etta scared her.  She shot up, pulled her gun out and pointed it at the chest of someone she couldn't really see too well standing there.

"Come home with me.  You need to get some rest."

She stood up, put the gun away, slung her bag over her shoulder and realized she was a fool.

"Alright, Marty."