Linda shifted in the bed, raising her hips for a moment then resettling them against the bed. Her eyes were gritty and heavy, but all the same, refused to stay shut.

It was the first time Linda was able to sleep by herself since Patricia had moved into her apartment. Embarrassed by Maggie’s behavior, Misthilde had given a second room to Patricia at a severely discounted price. Patricia had protested, but Linda made it clear she would not share a room with a piglet.

As soon as Linda had locked the door to her room, she rearranged the bed so it was parallel to the door into the typical hotel room. The silence was bliss. Even more blissful was falling back into her usual nighttime routine without Patricia’s usual interruptions.

Linda had showered, changed into her carefully folded pajamas, and tucked herself into the bed, her hands carefully placed over the covers as her mother had trained her. Without Patricia and her constant talking. Linda knew she was pleased, even dared to say she was happy.

But a faint buzz from the cell phone that was not a cell phone reminded Linda of why she couldn’t actually be happy. Linda sat up in the bed and moved closer to the nightstand where her not-cell-phone sat, it deep green screen lit up and spelled out his name: Beau.

“What?” Linda answered.

“What are you doing?” Beau shot back.

“Trying to sleep.”

Beau’s voice was heavy, tired. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean then?” Linda wanted to make him work as hard as she had to.

“Why are you in Arizona?”

“You know why.”

Beau sighed, and Linda could easily picture him rubbing his delicate hands over his blocky face, no doubt taking extra time to scrub at the stubble he always had around his jawline this late in the evening. “You can’t keep putting it off, Linda.”

“Don’t call me that,” She hissed. She hated it when Beau called her that. It was almost like she really was becoming Linda.

“You’re starting to forget your job.”

“I’m not,” Linda said evenly. “You interrupted a smooth operation, now I’ve got to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix, just get the damned job done so we can pair.”

Linda’s teeth ground together and she had to force herself to speak slowly. “I’m not doing what they tell me blindly anymore—“

“Goddamnit, Linda, now is not the time to become a judge—“

“I told you don’t call me that,” Linda could smell the phantom rot of her mother’s corpse, a sign her anger was getting too high. “Please, Beau. Let me handle it.”

Beau was quiet and Linda could hear some clicks. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, focused on her again. “I know you can. Just be careful, okay?”

Linda wanted to tell him how tired she was of being careful, but she knew that wasn’t what he needed to hear. “I always am.”

“I know.” That was the closest Beau ever came to telling Linda how much he loved her.

Linda hung up, put the phone back on the center of the nightstand and went back into the center of the bed, staring at the door she partially hoped Patricia would kick open any second.

But Patricia was too busy cleaning her guns and making sure Wee Mary Beth didn’t shit on the floor. “If you shit on the floor, I’m giving you to Maggie,” she warned the piglet.

Wee Mary Beth just grunted and resumed her frantic sniffing around the room.  Patricia gave the piglet one last dirty look, then went back to her task, softly humming Billy Joel’s Travlin’ Prayer.

The clicking of the guns being reassembled flooded Patricia with memories of doing the same thing with her parents. She’d grown up in hotel room after hotel room, cleaning and refitting guns, loading bullets with their powder and checking gear. It was a routine she fell back into with the same ease most people fell back into bike riding with.

“Hope you’re ready, Beau,” Patricia said grimly, aiming one of the pistols at the wall that separated her from Linda’s room. “Momma’s coming.”