At eight a.m. on Monday morning, Pinkie’s phone rang. She buried her head under the pillow, suddenly regretting her choice of ringtone.
Everybody just have a good time
And we gon' make you lose your mind
We just wanna see you-
Shake that!
...followed by a cacophony of electronic noises.
She found the phone and muttered “Hello?” into it.
It was Detective Whet Stone. “Ms. Pie, if you’re available, I’d like to ask you a few more questions.”
Pinkie sat up in bed, blinking at the sun coming through the window and pushing some hair out of her face. “I’m not really able to travel right now.”
“That’s no problem. I’m on my way there.”
That woke Pinkie up. “Um…”
She slipped out of bed, glanced at Marble’s unoccupied mattress, and then poked her head into the empty bedroom next door. “Okay.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Pinkie wasn’t sure what she would have done if her family, specifically Limestone, were home. She could have told Whet Stone not to come, but he was clearly already on the way.
What she did know was that ten minutes was barely going to be enough time to get ready.
The grey Crown Vic pulled into the driveway twelve minutes later. Pinkie sat on the front porch in the first clothes she’d grabbed from the bedroom - Marble wouldn’t mind - which were black jeans and a grey sweatshirt. She’d left the borrowed gun on the bed.
Whet Stone said hello as she got in the car. He hadn’t asked her to, but there was no way Pinkie was going to invite him into the house. Her grandparents might not make the best impression. There was also the simple paranoia about what he might see or leave behind. Better to just make him drive somewhere else.
“How about we go to the station?” he proposed.
“Do you have coffee there?”
He laughed. Pinkie didn’t.
They made small talk on the way. The Salt Seasonings Festival was this week, held in Metternich Park, and Whet Stone seemed happy to be missing it. It was not exactly a high-key event, and any security detail would just be standing around for hours. The festival was a fond memory for Pinkie, and she made a mental note to go. No hurry, it was all week.
They arrived in Courthouse Square, the most modern part of Old Town, which only meant that it was halfway there. No one had ever accused the government of having taste, and the police station was a modernist mess of concrete, aluminum, and glass in the middle of several more traditional buildings, including a stone courthouse.
Whet Stone led Pinkie through the spacious lobby and past the front desk. He swiped an ID badge on an electronic panel to gain access to the back rooms.
The hallways were much the same as the rest of the building, though swapping the glass with eggshell-colored drywall. Whet Stone stopped by a kitchenette to get Pinkie some coffee.
A man short of stature and thin of hair passed by, noticing Whet Stone and turning into the room. His suit looked like it cost at least three times what Whet Stone’s did, though that may have been just because it was pressed.
“I brought her,” said Whet Stone, gesturing with his own coffee cup to Pinkie. He then gestured to the other man. “This is Detective Soft Eyes.”
The newcomer extended a hand. “Hey hon, I hear you’re an entertainer.”
Pinkie shook with her hand that wasn’t holding a disposable coffee cup. “I consider myself more of a facilitator to bring entertainment to people.”
Soft Eyes glanced down at the business card Pinkie had palmed to him during the shake. “Well, you’ve certainly brought enough entertainment to this town. Your truck looks like Liberace started ranching.”
Pinkie wondered briefly how he knew what it looked like, but he was a cop, he could easily pull the registration. She put a hand to her cheek, eyes and mouth wide. “I take offense to that, sir! It’s barely bedazzled at all!”
The corners of Soft Eyes’ mouth turned up briefly, but he went on. “You did do some de-bedazzling recently, if your tags on Instagram are anything to go by.”
“What do you know about Instagram?” Whet Stone asked.
“You’d be surprised at the kind of things you can find there,” Soft Eyes replied, though his gaze hadn’t left Pinkie. “Or not find. You stopped posting your locations a few days ago. As near as I can tell, you’ve never done a show in your hometown, either.”
There was an obvious question the conversation was leading up to, so Pinkie attempted to redirect it. “Well, I haven’t been home in a while.” She hesitated, then added, “You know my sister, Limestone.”
“I do,” he confirmed. “I’ve seen plenty of her work, and I’d like to have a conversation with her sometime. I get the feeling, though, she doesn’t have as interesting of a story as you do.”
“I mean...” Pinkie put out her left hand “-Dashville barfights versus-” she put out her right hand “-globe trotting party planning entertainment shenanigans. Limestone may only be a one trick pony, but she’s got it down to a science. From what I hear.”
“What you hear? No firsthand experience?”
“I’ve been gone.”
“How did you get that bruise on your cheekbone?”
Pinkie blinked, about as blindsided by the question as she had been by the punch. The bruise was almost healed. In her rush that morning, Pinkie had neglected to cover it with a dab of makeup. After a second of hesitation, she went with, “What bruise?”
“Maybe it’s nothing.” Soft Eyes held her gaze for a moment longer and then tipped his head towards Whet Stone. He turned to leave the kitchenette. “I’d love to talk to you again some time, Ms. Pie.”
He disappeared down the hall. Pinkie looked at Whet Stone. He seemed contemplative, as if the conversation had just given him a lot to think about. Trying to keep him off balance, she said, “Your boss is gay Columbo? That’s awesome!”
“How do you know he’s my boss?” Whet Stone asked.
“It’s not like you’re his.”
Apparently that was so true that Whet Stone didn’t even try to protest. He just gestured Pinkie to follow him and they went down the hall to an interrogation room.
Over the next hour, they worked out a chronology of the firebombing from Pinkie’s point of view. Whet Stone asked her a few questions he had asked before and Pinkie gave him the same answers as before. Nothing much caught her off guard.
Still, while Whet Stone may not have been the detective his boss was, it seemed clear that he thought Pinkie was holding out. To be fair, she was, but also didn’t think she knew anything that would help the police catch the actual people who had come after her. They were probably Kirin or affiliates. Outside of that, she didn’t know anything about them.
“The security cameras from the truck stop confirm the witnesses’ stories about a black BMW,” he said, finally ending the questioning and deciding to share a few answers of his own. “Two of them, in fact.”
“Does that imply anything?” Pinkie asked.
“It makes me think they followed you up from Florida; not locals. Two cars might mean at least four people.”
Well, they were a gang. Still, hearing about numbers made Pinkie feel outnumbered. Being alone and unafraid was all fine and dandy until you did have something to be afraid about.
Well...she wasn’t alone, at least. As much as Pinkie had fought against coming home, she did at least feel safe here. Or at least, safer than anywhere else.
Whet Stone didn’t have much left to ask or to say. He seemed to realize this and got up from the table. “I think that’s it. I can drive you back.”
“Lunch first?” Pinkie suggested.
Whet Stone checked his watch. “It’s a little early, but sure. Where did you want to go?”
“Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve visited a good old fashioned Waffle House, but we can get those anywhere in the south.” Pinkie put a finger to her chin. “But you know what chain I really miss? Shoney’s. I can’t even remember the last time I went.”
“We have one in town, but I don’t think I’ve ever gone.” Whet Stone looked thoughtful.
“It’s really more of a state of mind,” Pinkie agreed.
The two of them got back in Whet Stone’s detective car. Whet Stone seemed to unlock a little from the stoic cop demeanor he’d maintained during the interview. It was a look Pinkie had seen before from fans who she’d ended up working with in a professional capacity. Business and pleasure couldn’t be mixed, but they could exist side by side.
Whet Stone said, “So once this is behind you, where do you think you’ll do your next show?”
“I’m not sure,” Pinkie replied. “I’m not usually in this part of the country, so there could be some new opportunities. Maybe a fair. Maybe the next NASCAR race at Bristol.”
“You could hang around and be a celebrity police consultant,” Whet Stone joked.
“I guess if I’m hanging around anyway,” Pinkie said.
He paused and glanced at her in surprise. “Really? I mean…” He considered it for a moment, and said, “If you’re serious, yeah, maybe we can set something up.”
Pinkie had also been joking, but, well, it would get her out of the house and keep her away from the quarry. She might also be able to use the position to protect herself and her family from the police getting too close.
At the restaurant, Pinkie went with the buffet and was two plates in before Whet Stone received the hamburger he had ordered. She was up to plate four before he finished.
“I’m just going to go get dessert now,” she said, standing up.
When she came back to the table, the checks were sitting there. Pinkie started to reach for both, but Whet Stone pulled them to his side of the table. “You paying for my meal would be a conflict of interest.”
“Wouldn’t it also be one if you paid for mine?”
“Maybe.” He pushed her ticket back across the table.
“At any rate, I wouldn’t want you to start paying my food bill on a regular basis anyway.” Pinkie was already nearly finished with her dessert. “I’ve got a little bit of a metabolism imbalance. The doctor actually recommended a minimum calorie intake for me. The last couple of days were kind of hectic, so I’m just catching up now.”
“Must be nice to eat whatever you want,” Whet Stone observed.
“Well, not if I have to take extra time out of my busy schedule just to eat. Plus, all that extra energy has to go somewhere. I might be exposing myself to heart conditions down the line from constantly being amped up.” Pinkie shrugged, and went on in a quieter voice. “On the other hand, it might be powering my somebody-else’s-problem forcefield.”
Whet Stone looked as skeptical as he had the first time she’d brought it up, but said, “Like how Superman could vibrate his body so that his face would be blurry in photographs?”
Pinkie stopped suddenly, forkful of chocolate cake halfway to her mouth. “That...might explain a lot, actually. As a public personality, I’m usually in look at me mode, but I wonder if I’m actually saving energy when I flip the switch the other way.”
“The SEP/LAM switch.”
“Well, not a literal switch. I’m pretty sure I’m not a robot. At least, I haven’t found my father’s secret mechanical-mastermind’s lair. Or my mother’s, for that matter.”
She decided not to bring up her granny or großvater.
They both paid their checks and got back in the car. Pinkie quickly set up a group text to her sisters, letting them know Whet Stone would be bringing her back to the house. Really, the warning only applied to Limestone, but the others could help.
Sure enough, the house was empty save for Pinkie’s grandparents when they arrived. Pinkie said goodbye to Whet Stone in the driveway, still not inviting him in.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said. “Once I get cleared for the consulting.”
He seemed enthusiastic, possibly to a reckless extent. Pinkie didn’t usually manipulate her fans, but it was good to know she could if she had to.
Pinkie went into the house and caught up with her grandparents for a while. This was the first time she’d had them to herself since coming home.
Later that afternoon, when her sisters and parents had begun to arrive home from work, Pinkie was looking forward to dinner. She was thinking about making it herself, just to do something nice. If her mother would let her, anyway. She was very possessive of the kitchen.
However, Limestone pitched a different plan. “Come with us to Monday night football.”
“You play football?” Pinkie said.
Limestone sneered. “Nobody to play against. No, we’re going to a bar to watch it on TV.”
“The Salt Seasonings Festival is going on this week. We could go, just like old times. Would you rather go to that?” Pinkie proposed.
“It’s all week,” Limestone pointed out.
“Okay,” said Pinkie. “Monday night football, then. Sounds fun.”
Her sisters changed clothes, mostly button-up shirts and jeans. Limestone’s were ripped, possibly intentionally.
However, Marble also getting ready to go with them surprised Pinkie. “You’re coming?”
Limestone hooked a thumb at Marble. “She wants to be DD.”
Marble nodded.
“She also uses our girls’ nights as an excuse to check out cute guys,” said Maud.
Marble flushed, but nodded again.
“She’s not the only one,” added Limestone.
“You can check them out without fighting,” said Maud.
“No one said you had to help me fight,” Limestone sniped back.
“I wish I didn’t have to.”
“Girls, let’s just get going,” Pinkie interjected. “I can’t wait to get some shitty bar food and watch football.”
The four of them drove into town in Limestone’s car. There was a strip mall wedged between the main part of College Heights and the interstate that served highway travelers and college students who wanted to get away from campus. There was a Hooters there.
It was about the last place Pinkie expected Limestone to pick, and Pinkie didn’t believe it was her usual haunt, either. She briefly wondered if Limestone was trying to make special considerations for her, going to a place with a recognizable name. That was touching, but it was also probably better in all respects than going to some Dashville-quality dingey hole in the wall. This place didn’t even smell like vomit and cigarettes.
On the other hand, it was Hooters.
The place was built with groups in mind, but wasn’t very crowded. There were a couple of bros at the bar, and a handful of people scattered around. Maybe half seemed to be there for the game. Limestone, though she had likely picked this place for Pinkie’s benefit, seemed to be disappointed in the turnout.
Pinkie had been holding her tongue but now could no longer help it. “So you said you were looking for guys. Does the strip club not show football?”
Limestone’s hand moved like she was going to punch Pinkie in the shoulder, but she stopped. “For your information, a restaurant focused on men is the best place to find them.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, it’s statistics. Marble did the math.”
“Mh-hmm!”
The Pie sisters took a table made for six in a good position relative to the TV screens. The game was just about to start, though considering it was Lions versus Browns, Pinkie wasn’t expecting very much.
The waitress came over to take their order. “Hi, I’m Blonde Faith.” She seemed a little tired, perhaps working a shift after a long day of college classes, but was apparently non gender-discriminatory and did the whole spiel with shoulder touches and reaching across the table in front of them.
Maud and Limestone both ordered chicken wings. Maud asked for the hottest sauce. Limestone shot her a look, and then ordered the garlic sauce. Maud also ordered a German beer with a five-syllable name. Limestone had Bud Light - two of them to start. Marble had a salad.
“I’d like a fried chicken,” said Pinkie.
“How many pieces?”
“A fried chicken,” Pinkie repeated. “Some white toast too, if you have it.” She smiled.
The waitress paused, looking up from her pad. “Wait...aren’t you Ponk PK? I saw on Instagram that you were in town!”
“I get around,” Pinkie replied, noncommittally.
The waitress seemed happily flustered, and walked away to put the order in. She would probably be back for an autograph later. Pinkie turned her attention back to the TVs, where the kickoff was happening.
Their food came in a few minutes, Pinkie’s chicken lagging slightly, which was good because it took up more than her share of space on the table.
The meager crowd around them had changed slightly. By the end of the televised game’s first quarter, it seemed like those who would be staying for the whole thing were in place. Maud was beginning her second beer. Limestone was eyeing the bottom of her fourth.
Just then, the lights went out. A couple mutters of surprise went around the room, individual volume depending on the level of commitment to the game.
The door opened and someone came in, silhouetted against the setting sun. Pinkie glanced away, but a moment later realized that whoever it was had approached their table.
“Sorry, we’re having some technical difficulties right now,” said Blonde Faith, intercepting them.
“It’s fine.”
Pinkie looked up. It was the ginger-haired woman from the grocery store. She was wearing a cream-colored blouse today and green corduroy trousers. She may have been trying for hipster, but she wasn’t doing a good job of it. Her clothes looked brand new and uncomfortable. Still, she wore a smile.
She finished brushing off the waitress and turned to Pinkie. “We meet again.”
“Hello,” said Pinkie, eyes looking at the woman, but keeping her head turned towards the TV, hoping it would come back on.
“I’m Autumn Blaze,” said the newcomer, pulling out one of the extra chairs at the table and sitting down uninvited. “And you, Ms. Pie, have not been easy to find.”
“What-” Limestone started, but Maud bumped her leg. That didn’t change the consternation on Limestone’s face, but she didn’t make a loud scene.
“I have to hand it to you,” Autumn said. “I didn’t think it was going to be a challenge.”
“Thanks?” Pinkie said, unsure what she was talking about. Attempting to add some levity, she added, “People tell me I’m challenged all the time.”
“I didn’t think I was chasing a ghost into this backwater town. You don’t leave a trail; I had to keep connecting the dots. Fortunately, whenever you do pop up, it’s usually well documented.”
Everything fell into place just then. Not only that, but Pinkie realized the waitress had probably posted about her as soon as she’d walked away from the table, unknowingly tipping the Kirin.
But Autumn Blaze was just one person. Where were the rest? In her peripheral vision, Pinkie could see three people hanging out in front of the restaurant’s windows, silhouetted against the evening sky.
All three of Pinkie’s sisters seemed to catch her sudden realization. Still, Pinkie was nothing if not cool in the spotlight. She forced herself to smile back and said, “Well, it’s not much of a hometown, but it’s all I’ve got.”
“It hasn’t been all bad,” Autumn said. “I’ve had some time to think. I don’t like work - nobody does - but I like the chance to find myself, my own life, what no one else can ever know. They can only see me from the outside, not experience what it really means.”
“I...think I know what you’re saying,” Pinkie said, actually surprising herself in the agreement. “Kind of a shame we weren’t taking the trip together.”
“We’ll go back together,” Autumn said. “If anything, I’m loyal to the nightmare until I’ve seen it through.”
“Has it been a nightmare?” Pinkie said. “I mean, sure, I didn’t make it easy on you on purpose, but I kind of think I had a little rougher time of it, being the one chased.”
“Well, that’s a nice fantasy for you. I can’t delude myself. You know, I hate lies. Can’t stand them.” Autumn paused and lifted a hand. “I acknowledge that doesn’t mean I’m honest. It’s because I realized that lies taste like death. Not the death of killing someone, that’s different. I mean the difference between life and nothing.”
Autumn paused for a breath. A monologue was not at all what Pinkie had been expecting, but the longer she talked, the longer Pinkie didn’t have to figure out how to buy more time.
The thought of calling the police went through her mind. Pinkie hesitated.
Autumn went on. “Life...it’s a flash of lightning, a struck match. A moment that we live in. It’s why I like fire. It reminds me to burn bright and live.”
“I think I noticed,” Pinkie said.
“Maybe it was a mistake to burn your trailer,” said Autumn. “We probably should have just waited, watched, and then done it when you were inside.” She shrugged. “But feelings get the best of us sometimes. Maybe I did a little too much soul searching. The impulsiveness echoed loudly inside me because I was hollow. Maybe in this shithole town I had too much time on my hands, looked inside, saw there was nothing there, and went mad in the wilderness.”
“You ‘went mad in the wilderness?’ Well, okay, I guess Dashville, Virginia is pretty far from home for you.”
“So I’ll just be taking you back now,” said Autumn, shifting in her chair. She leaned forward, preparation to stand up, or to move.
Two others had come through the door and now stood behind her, a woman and a man. Autumn tipped her head side to side, introducing them in turn. “This is Femme Flambe and Buffalo Brushfire. They don’t talk much.”
As outwardly friendly as Autumn Blaze was, the other two wore neutral expressions, but their eyes were focused and each seemed tensed to move.
Autumn went on. “I’m going to recommend you leave enough cash to cover the bill and then come with me.”
Limestone still hadn’t said a word, but her face was twisted into a snarl. Autumn looked at her. “If any of you have any objections to me taking Ms. Pie, I and my alliterative associates here are going to have to insist.”
“You want to take her back to Miami. Then what?” asked Maud, voice level.
“Well, that depends on her. If she pays us fifty million, we’ll let her off the hook - for this. I wouldn’t be surprised if the services of the illustrious Ponk PK were retained in the future.”
Pinkie opened her mouth, but Autumn preempted the question. “And if you don't have that kind of cash...well, I’ll probably be told to take it out of your hide. You know, there’s a market for young women who have been disfigured to the point they can’t run away. People pay good money for that. We have to get our reparation somehow.”
“I understand where you’re coming from with the whole ‘me owing your boss big time’ thing, but damn girl,” Pinkie said. “You aren't much of a saleswoman.”
“Well, I told you I hate lies.” Autumn’s introspective look from earlier disappeared. Her smile widened. “And I have nothing to hide. I kind of wanted to break a few of your bones anyway to make the trip back easier.”
Limestone’s chair went flying across the floor as she leaped up. Autumn’s female sidekick was closest and raised her fists.
Pinkie was also moving and dodged around Marble as she got up. The male Kirin darted forward, but was held up by Maud, who had somehow gotten in front of Pinkie. His hands were fast and Maud couldn’t catch up. She managed to deflect the first couple of blows, but couldn’t go on the offensive.
He threw a punch straight at Maud’s face that she was too slow to intercept and his fist slammed into her nose with a crunch. Maud took the hit and her hand didn’t stop moving, clamping on his wrist, holding him in place. Her other arm came up, telegraphing for miles as it built power, but she had him held tight and he could only watch it coming, eyes widening in inevitability.
The point of Maud’s elbow hammered him in the temple and followed through, driving him down and straight through the table. Plates and glasses were tossed in the air and came down to shatter on the floor, based on the sound. The lights in the room still hadn’t returned.
Limestone had her opponent by the hair and had already put her fingernails to the woman’s face. She kicked the Kirin in the back of the knee and then shoved her to the floor in the assorted shards of broken table and table setting.
At the sound of the fight breaking out, the fourth Kirin had came running through the front door. He passed Pinkie without noticing her and she hit him in the back of the head with a convenient chair. He dropped and slid across the floor into the mess.
Autumn Blaze still sat in her chair, back stiff and her hands folded in her lap. For the first time, she had stopped smiling.
“Come on!” Limestone shouted, at the door and waving. Pinkie pulled out her wallet, grabbed all the cash she had, which was maybe three hundred dollars, and slapped it on a nearby table. She hustled out of the building.
Marble was already in the driver’s seat of the car with the engine started. Limestone slid across the hood and jumped in the passenger seat. Pinkie and Maud got in the back. Maud’s nose was bleeding heavily, and Pinkie pulled out a handkerchief.
The car started to move. There was a moment of silence as they pulled out of the parking lot, Marble driving at the speed limit.
“Pinkie, what the fuck!?” Limestone demanded, turning to glare at her.
“Well...I told you they were after me,” Pinkie replied weakly. She glanced out the back window, but didn’t see any obvious pursuit. The Hooters was still dark.
“Damnit.” Limestone shook her head and turned back to face the front as Marble drove them sedately back towards home. Limestone threw up her hands and shook her head. “That’s another place we can’t go again! I think Maud killed a guy.”
“Heh weh steh brethin,” Maud said through the handkerchief.
“What are we going to tell mom and dad?” Pinkie said.
Limestone looked back at her. “Tell them that we were in a Hooters? Why are we going to tell them anything?”
Pinkie didn’t reply. She checked on Maud, and then sat back in her seat.
She wondered what she was going to tell the police.