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COPYRIGHT 2008 Texas Monthly, Inc.
[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]
Baldwin washed his chocolate gravy down with tepid Diet Coke. The sugar combined with the remnants of last night's alcohol and made his head ring.
Belly sat at a small, round table in the center of the room. She had pulled the revolver free from the waistband of her warm-up pants and laid it on the scarred Formica. Every so often, she patted the weapon with her right hand, index finger caressing the hard blue steel of the barrel. Her left hand cradled a deck of tarot cards.
"These cards never lie," she said. After awhile she picked up Baldwin's chocolate-stained dish. "You want some more?"
"Nuh-uh." Baldwin tried to control his shakes. "That was plenty."
"I'll get you some more." Plate in one hand, Belly stood and turned toward the kitchen. She stopped as if she'd remembered something and picked up the revolver with her free hand. "Don't you go nowhere, okay?"
But Baldwin was already poised to spring out of the velvet easy chair. A nanosecond after she'd disappeared from view, he dashed for the front door of the trailer,...
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