The Photographer

Independant

Shades of red ran up her neck as the warm red blood ran down the small of her back where her body hit the pavement before her head hit the gas pump. As she fell, her hand tightened on the nozzle, spilling gas on his boots and her legs, on the cement and the side of her car before she let go to catch herself. The commotion attracted the two from the other side of the drive in lot and a few patrons who might stare but wouldn’t talk.

He offered his hand, looking down at her as his hair fell over his shoulders. She bit her tongue and hardened her jaw, biting back exposing the pain that jumped from her spine to her head.

Another set of boots appeared and took the gas hose from her as mumbled conversations seemed to fade in and out around her. Just how many of them watched her fall like a ragdoll and cover the area with gasoline?

"It's rude to sneak up on people." She snapped, refusing his hand and picking up the gas nozzle as she helped herself up.

"I'm sorry." He stepped back and smiled. "I thought you heard us. We are heading over to your dad's place to clean it out."

"Do I know you?"

"Sorry." He held out his hand. "Xander. I worked with your dad."

"Alot of people did." The pain in her back made her close her eyes for a brief moment as she disguised her discomfort by looking over at the two men who stood just on the other side of the car as another one held the gas pump in her tank, watching the counter, pretending not to take note of this awkward exchange.

The machine clicked off and before she could react, the nozzle was replaced and the transaction paid for.

"I don't need your money." She pulled a crumpled twenty dollar bill from her pocket and shoved it at him.

He pushed a strand of dark chestnut hair behind her ear and as she flinched, he withdrew and showed her a palm full of her blood. "You might have a concussion."

"I know what a concussion is. This isn't it." No sooner than those words escaped her lips, they carried with them a heaving avalanche of coffee and soup, barely missing his already wet boots.

Darkness began to creep in around her eyes and her face felt flush. Suddenly she could feel the very warm sensation of her blood soaking through her shirt and the chill of the morning air as the wind wrapped itself around her.

"Bette, are you ok? You're looking pale."

"I don't tan." She felt her body threaten to fall backwards but her pulled her to him before the sunrise faded into darkness. Willing herself back to the present, she found her way out of the blackout and out of his arms. "I'm fine." Her shirt stuck to her back and his hands were marked with her blood.

"You have a gash back there."

"Low blood sugar." She opened the trunk and found the first aid kit her dad kept always stocked. "Just a little cut. I'll bandage myself and be fine." She wiped away the excess blod with a cool baby wipe. It stung but she dried it with a towel and quickly slapped on a bandage. She opened the soda and though it had lost is fizz and tasted flat, it pushed her back into the no going to pass out zone.

Rocco kept the same go-bag he had taught her to keep. You never know what you might need and when you might need it. He kept one in the trunk, one under his bed, and one in the foot locker in the barn. All had the same stuff, first aid and flat soda.

"I don't think you should drive."

"I'm just going to go back to Rocco's. It's not that far."

"We were heading over there. Let me drive you."

"I can drive." She shut the drunk and walked away.

Sighing heavily, she started the car and tried to pull out before the bikes could follow but as she reached the first light, she saw him pull up behind her, smiling and flanked by the guys from the gas station.

That's all she needed. An escort. The old man was dead and still his little gang rallied around her like a damsel in distress.

When she pulled into the driveway, a half dozen bikes and a couple of trucks were already there. She ignored them as she walked into the woods. They'd leave the barn alone and Rocco had a nice little apartment up there, plus a generator.

When the door didn't close behind her, she realized she had been followed.

"I don't need any help out here. I got it." She flipped the switch on the far wall and the generator outside kicked up. "See? So easy even a girl can do it."

"I'm not here to do for you. I'm here to make sure you don't die because I don't want Kelly to kill me."

"If it's not one, it's the other." She sighed. She turned to face Xander and put her hands on her hips. "I'm going to go shower and change."

Leaving him on the still floor, she went upstairs to the loft where she found the apartment and small bathroom. The clothes didn't smell like her father but she hadn't been around in a while, so she didn't care and brought a sweatshirt and a towel. The blood hadn't gone any further than her shirt.

What little hot water had been left circled the drain with her dried blood, leaving her a chilly rinse. But the gray hooded sweatshirt was warm and covered her like a blanket. While the cut had stopped bleeding, she still bandaged it again, making sure if it opened up, she wouldn't leak all over this shirt.

Leaving her shirt in the sink to soak, she made her way downstairs, the room much warmer with the still's fires going.

"Brewing now? Really?" These guys just couldn't leave the shine alone.

"Nope." He turned around and choked on his tongue. She stood before him in his old sweatshirt, the arms bunched up to let her use her hands, her wet brown hair braided behind her. "But these give off alot of heat so we could warm up."

"I can run them myself."

"I don't doubt that. But I've been given a job to do."

She sat down in Rocco's office chair and crossed her arms. "I don't suppose there's a secret stash of food out here somewhere?"

"No secret stash." He smiled. "But the kitchen's got a bit." He pointed to the door next to her. She rolled her eyes and jumped up like she hadn't eaten in days.

She found a week's worth of canned spaghetti and bottled water along with some stale cookies and ketchup packets. Plopping the gelatinous pasta into a bowl, she debated microwaving it or eating it cold because her stomach started growling and protesting her lack of planning and money. She microwaved it and found two spoons. It wouldn't be very kind if she didn't at least offer.

"How'd you know Rocco?" She set the bowl on the table and put a spoon at the opposite chair as she sat down.

He didn't move away from the stills or look back at her. "He was training me on these. We brewed a few together."

She blew on the spaghetti before testing it without her lip and waiting a little bit more. "Where are you from?"

"Out by Brevard."

"What brings you here?"

"Abram. My mom. A job."

She began to feel a bit of regret as his answers spoke more about not wanting to talk to her rather than have a conversation. That's the way it went when you were given a job to do. You do it and you don't mess with Rocco's daughter.

Silence was fine. She dug into the spaghetti as he poked the fires until the stills.

But silence didn't last long. "How long do you think you'll stick around?"

"Long enough to get everything done."

"Are you going to sell or keep the land?"

"Oh, sell." She laughed, bitterness biting her breathe.

"Abram will buy but outside of him, you'll be hard pressed, especially with any locals."

"I'll sell to a developer then. This is prime real estate with that development going up on the other side of Bachman's farm."

"He won't let them do a thing. Like you said, prime real estate, and no one has any land near like this that he can use. Your dad was the last of the shiners in the area."

"He'll have to find a new angle then."

It was Xander's turn to laugh. "Be careful, he'll do whatever he needs to keep money in his pocket." He sat down across from her and opened a jar of shine. "Your dad has something like eighteen acres out here, no neighbors, a natural spring, and a lake at his back. No body in Abram's outfit has anything like this. He'll fight to keep it."

"It was never his."

"He liked to think different."

She took the shine from him and swallowed without choking. "It was never mine. Some developer will eat up eighteen acres."

"It's always been yours. Your dad made sure of that." Xander disappeared into the office and reemerged with a large surveyor's paper. "This acre, just out of the immediate water basin, Rocco built a stone tomb. He moved your mom and sister's ashes there."

"We buried them. They're at the cemetary in town."

"Their ashes were there but he moved them."

"Sick idiot."

"He didn't want Abram visiting them. He brought them home."

Bette fell silent. Her thoughts turned empty as she stared at the higher elevation alcove in the dead center of the wooded acreage. She searched her mind for anything to bring words to her mouth but every piece of her mind left her speechless.

"I'm going to bed." She shook her head and left her mess on the table. He watched her walk away. Her silence unsettling him. She didn't have a snarky comeback; he knew that was an anomaly.