Smoke Screen by M.E. Proctor

from Nails in the Coffin: a Pistol Jim Press series

Smoke Screen by M.E. Proctor

“Light me up,” Julia says.

I put the lighter to a cigarette and take one puff before slipping it between her bright red lips. She throws her head back to exhale, one hand on the steering wheel, the cig next to the open window. Sexy, seductive, pleasured.

I don’t smoke. I only satisfy Julia’s need. She enjoys asking me and I enjoy watching her. Foreplay. With her three packs a day habit and our time on the road, I’m surprised I haven’t yet developed a craving for the stuff.

We’re going to Charlotte after a three-night gig in Louisville. A short hop by plane but Julia hates flying and loves driving. She says it relaxes her. She’s a better driver than I am. Responsibilities are clearly defined in our relationship. She sings and I play the piano. She handles the car and I light her coffin nails.

“We should stop before dark. The road cuts through mountains, lots of twists. You enjoy a challenge, but I’d rather do it in daylight.”

Julia purses her glossy mouth. “All right, find us a rustic motel in a two-smoke range. I can keep going, but you’ll be as prickly as a roll of barbed wire.” She drops the butt in the soda can sitting snug in the cupholder, and signals for a fresh one.

We do our ritual dance, and I scour the internet for lodgings. Traffic is light, no heavy trucks—a blessing. Julia can’t stand the beasts, and her foot presses on the accelerator each time she passes one.

We’re speeding down a steep, curving section of road when Julia says, “I’m sorry, Jake.”

And she swings the steering wheel all the way to the left.

By the time I can grab it, with Julia’s cigarette burning the back of my hand, we’re across the median and hurtling for the guardrail—our only protection from the darkness beyond.

Maybe we flip. I don’t know.

***

“Mr. Blevins?”

I’m awake, all at once. White and metal, green walls, a curtain with pink flowers. A nurse in blue scrubs and a man in a brown wrinkled suit. The voice belongs to the nurse.

“This is Sergeant Alomar from the State Highway Patrol. You have five minutes, Sergeant.”

About the time it takes Julia to get to the end of a stick.

“Do you recall the accident, Mr. Blevins?”

“We went off the road.”

“How?”

My right hand throbs. Where Julia crushed her cigarette. “I think… Julia lost control of the car. Where is Julia?”

The cop shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

He leaves. I’m alone with the tubes, the beeping machines, a dull pain that I can’t locate. Except for the sting in my hand.

Julia’s voice. I’m sorry, Jake.

***

Three weeks later, I learn Julia had lung cancer. Terminal.

I don’t know how I feel about it.

That she wanted me to go with her…

Bio

M.E. Proctor writes the Declan Shaw PI series, Love You Till Tuesday & Catch Me on a Blue Day.

She’s the author of a short story collection, Family and Other Ailments, and the co-author of a retro-noir novella, Bop City Swing.

She’s a Derringer and Shamus award short story nominee. Website: www.shawmystery.com. On Substack:

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