Gold lipstick and a shot at redemption. The Miss Tuscaloosa pageant held more than one prize for Angeline Tucker. She looked out into the gathering crowd, searching for a certain someone, but they’d yet to show.

Grady Von stood in front of a smoking 1982 Trans AM. His white leather cowboy boots were drenched in coolant and his composure evaporated some thirty minutes back. He’d promised Angeline he’d be there in time for the main event, but that looked as likely as two squirrels sharing the same nut. Not a devout man, but desperate enough to pretend, he got onto his knees and started to pray. Not for the first time in his life, Grady needed a miracle.

A couple hours gone on the run between New Orleans and Atlanta, and Jim Stevens saw the stupidest son of a bitch kneeling on the side of the freeway. Not one to pass up a story, he pulled his rig, Indigo Folly, up past a smoking Trans AM. Jim saw the man snap his bent head up and shout something. The man raced over to the cab, quick as cream.

“Can I get a ride?” The man said almost fevered. Jim took a look at the leopard print vest and tight pants, thinking of a run down cocaine cowboy, he said yes.

“Thank you, thank you! I need to make it to Tuscaloosa. I’ve got cash!”

“I’ll take a twenty and an explanation for how a fella like you ends up on his knees next to the freeway.” The man rifled through his pockets to pull out a slick little wallet, a couple bills shuffled before he found a twenty. Jim accepted it and motioned for the man to buckle up. They got back onto the freeway before the man started talking again.

“You can stop at Tuscaloosa, right?”

“Headed through on the way to Atlanta. Won’t bother me to stop.”

“Thank God,” the man said sinking into the chair. He looked around the cabin at Jim’s specialized interior. A question formed on the man’s face, but he hesitated.

“Ain’t a crime to like peacocks. Always thought they were a pretty bird,” Jim said. “And no, I don’t own any.” The man nodded, seeming to accept the prescient answer.

“I’m Grady, by the way. Grady Von. Thanks again for picking me up.”

“Jim. You can call me Indigo Jim if you like. Only the state calls me Stevens.” Grady nodded again, looking slowly back around the peacock colored and illustrated cabin. He’d never seen the like.

“Will do. So, uh, how long you been on the road?”

“Today or in general?”

“Both? Either?”

“Only a couple hours today. Maybe twenty three years on the road. Ready to retire soon. Get a cabin in the Ozarks, learn how to fish. Boring stuff for a guy like you, I reckon.”

“Ha, eh, you could say that. Not too handy with cars or fish. But I know how to show someone a good time. If you pass through Tuscaloosa again, I can take you around.”

“Reckon I’ll take you up on that.”

***

Angeline bit her nails backstage before spitting them out. Where the hell was Grady? He promised! Of all the times that rotten dog had to flake, it had to be now? She hadn’t been on a stage in five years! Her thoughts flew around like margaritas in a Vitamix. Nothing but loose slurry by the time she heard the distant groan of the mic announcing her name. Angeline stood up, straightened her shoulders, and imagined her best “I could surprise the Devil” smolder before strutting to the stage.

The heat from the spotlights made her want to swoon, but Grace Kelly took all the fun out of that. Angeline looked past the heatwaves to spot the vested Grady standing next to a heavy set, purple hat wearing man. She wondered if he brought his dad with him. She didn’t know if Grady ever mentioned his father. She tried to think about it but the judge motioning to center stage cut the thought off.

The last event meant the talent portion arrived. Angeline felt the creep of a smile cross her face. Let those prancing petites take a load of this, she thought as the bow stretched over her head. Arrow notched, Angeline’s right foot drew back the string. She took a breath, exhaling as she fired. Zhoom! The arrow thudded in the center of the target. The ground went crazy as Target Tucker returned to the public eye. She reassumed a standing position and gave a bow to the audience, she saw Grady clapping wildly, but the old man had a questioning look on his face. She stepped back into line and waited for the other contestants to try and top her performance.

***

“Baby, you were amazing!” Grady said as he scooped up Angeline and her first place trophy. She tried to avoid knocking his head with it as he went for a kiss.

“That was really something, miss,” the older man said as Grady put her back down. “You ever shoot those bows regular?”

“Only when I get bored of the challenge,” Angeline said.

“Do you ever hunt with them?”

Taken back, Angeline took a moment to think, “I don’t think I’ve ever been hunting. I did shoot skeet a couple times though!”

“So you’ve never used that skill out in the woods?”

Angeline looked at Grady for help, but he looked just as uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Ah, Grady didn’t have time to mention me. I’m Indigo Jim. I picked our buddy up on the side of the road. Poor fella was down on his knees, praying for the lord or a miracle. Only got Jim, but we made it work,” he said with a small chuckle. Angeline nodded slowly, Grady gave an embarrassed shrug.

“Let’s get outta this place and somewhere with a couple brews. I promised Jim I’d show him a spot or two around town.”

***

The exterior of Whitehall left little to the imagination. A ten foot tall neon sign with darts, billiards, and beers told the customers all they needed to know about Grady Von’s second favorite spot in all of Tuscaloosa.

“Why’s the outside a cream color if it’s supposed to be called “Whitehall?” Jim asked as he fiddled with the little umbrella in his tiki drink. The bartender had handed it to Angeline, who slid it over to accept a double scotch and rocks. Eyebrows were raised, but mouths were kept shut. The service played a part in Grady’s admiration for the place.

“I think it’s a big joke. Or a small one, depending on your humor. But I love it. Fresh chicken, cold beer. Even my favorite company from time to time,” he said giving Angeline’s leg a squeeze. Jim gave a nod and looked around the spread of games, drinking parties, solo adventurers, and the seedy. Taking in a flash of a card table in the back room as a man walked out, Jim moved closer to Grady.

“How do you reckon a man like me gets in a room like that?” He said nodding towards the back room.

“Ha, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Grady said turning a little pale. “That’s a room for some uh, special customers.” His hand tightened around his beer as an inward prayer begged that Jim leave it there.

Jim took a sip of his tiki drink and gave a wink, “think I’m feeling special tonight,” before getting up to walk over. Grady made a weak grab for him, but Jim dodged it without veering course.

“What’s he up to?” Angeline asked. Grady shook his head. He didn’t want to be bad company, but he couldn’t come back to this bar if the men in the back knew he came in with Jim.

“Whatever it is, we don’t need to be here for it. Let’s get outta here, baby.” The two of them threw their drinks back and leapt off their stools before the first body sailed out of the back room. A man’s body slapped against the ground, cutting through the din. The bar went still as muffled shouts came from the back room. The shouts turned into screams and the building gave a couple shakes before everything went quiet.

Grady clung onto Angeline as they stared at the door like everyone else. The bartender had a hand on the phone, but didn’t raise it.

Jim stepped out with his half-filled tiki drink and a blood smeared smile. “Would you believe those boys wouldn’t let me join their game?”