Phoenix Noir

“You won’t find any millionaires in this dump. You’d have to hit one of the nightclubs in Scottsdale.”

“I like it fine here.”

The beers were beginning to run through his body. The toilets were trashed, so Tom decided to take a leak in the parking lot. He excused himself and stepped outside, among the flashy rez pickup trucks and dented sedans. Cars sped past him on Seventh Avenue. He pissed against the wall of the 99 Cent store and as he zipped up, he thought he saw a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye.

“What the fuck?”

The bar was now reeling with more noise and drunken bodies. He looked for Crista. She wasn’t where he’d left her and Tom didn’t spot her among the dancers. Musta gone to the O, he thought.

He ordered another shot and went over what he thought he’d seen in the parking lot. Can’t be. No way.

“Hey, man.” A middle-aged man stood up next to Tom.

“Hey,” he returned, and noticed the guy was sporting a crew cut, like he’d just gotten out of the military and hadn’t had time to grow his hair out.

“You know that woman, the one you’ve been talking to all night?” the crew cut asked.

“Just met her. We’re hooking up …” he said in case the crew cut had other ideas.

“If I were you, I’d be careful. You never know what’s going to show up.”

“What do you mean ‘what’s going to show up’?”

“Miss me?” Crista’s voice suddenly came from behind, and the crew cut left.

“Hell yeah,” he answered.

“So what path are you on?” she asked, poking the a on his T-shirt.

“The path of finding a fine woman like you.”

“Shhhit, I’ll bet you say that to all the women who come across your path,” she laughed, and twirled his hair on her index finger in a teasing way.

Tom pulled her close and smelled a scent unfamiliar to him.

“Hey, is your car parked outside?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“I just saw the weirdest fucking thing out there.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean … people used to talk about them when I worked at the Indian Center. One day I was driving on the 101 over by Salt River and I looked up on the embankment and there was a fucking coyote! I didn’t think they came that far into the city. He was standing there like he was taking it all in, checking it out. A twenty-first-century coyote!”

“It was probably just a dog that looked like a coyote.”

“No, no. I’m telling you, it was a fucking coyote.”

“Well, maybe it was lost,” Crista said.

For the rest of the night Tom couldn’t shake what he’d seen in the parking lot. Maybe it was just a dog. Had to be. Coyotes don’t come this far into the city. Hell, it was probably some dog that someone brought in from the rez and it got loose. Yeah, that was it.

“Hey, you all right?” Crista asked. “You look like you could use another drink.” She ordered them a round.

Crista reminded Tom of his first wife, who knew what to do. In a time of crisis she was like Captain Kirk, putting out orders and securing the ship.

The fluorescent lights were coming on, signaling closing time. The lights cast a garish glow on the leftovers from the Friday-night crowd and a shadow on Tom’s alcohol-soaked brain.

“You look like you need a ride home. My truck’s outside, parked near the 99 Cent store. It’s a tan Chevy with a feather hanging from the rearview mirror. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” She handed Tom her keys and left him to fend for himself.

As Tom made his way around the parking lot he wondered where he’d end up with Crista. Probably some Motel 6 in Glendale near I-17, he thought. More like Motel 69, and he laughed at his own joke. Her truck was backed in. A click of the key fob and the door unlocked. The smell that greeted him was the same smell as Crista’s. Something odd, something dark. He couldn’t put a finger on it. Tom settled into the passenger seat and waited. His head was spinning now, so he rolled down the window. Couples poured into the parking lot and groped at each other; some stopped to make out next to their vehicles. Tom leaned into the soft seat, rested his head against the door, and waited for Crista.

When he came to, he was no longer in the front seat. He was in the backseat and he had the sensation that he was moving at high speed. He sat up and saw pine trees whizzing past him. He’d sobered up enough to know he was no longer in Crista’s car. The crew cut was driving.

“Hey! Where’s Crista? What’re you doing?”

“I had to get you outta there,” said the crew cut.

“Where’s that woman I was with?”

“I think she’s after us.”

“After us? Where’re you taking me? What’s going on here?”

“Hang on. You got your seat belt on? You’re gonna need it.”

Headlights pierced through the darkness behind them. Tom looked back to see the truck following them. It was gaining on them.