Ashley had turned out to be correct about the trailer hitch—it was just the pressure of its being jackknifed that had made it impossible to remove—and he’d towed the Airstream into Mitzi’s driveway and then set it loose.All of it a performance, of course. Ashley had him by the balls, and both of them knew it.So he waited.She came out of the house and sat down beside him. Through the open screen door, he heard Mitzi and Kirk talking, alto and baritone. He could hear a dog barking, and he could see past his truck over the lawn to the swamp, but he couldn’t see the shape of what was supposed to happen next.“How are you doing?” she asked.“What do you want from me?”There was a long silence. He wondered if she was hesitating because she thought he might snap. He might have told her not to worry about it. All the snap had gone out of him. How many days had he been with her—three? And she’d already beaten him.Jerry had been the last straw. Jerry and the fucking dent in Roman’s fucking Cadillac, and then Carmen telling him he couldn’t leave.
