Flamethrower Read Free Page A

was inside her. The pit of dread she woke up with most mornings. The dread that didn’t leave until she either got on her bike or went to take care of Jack, the retired racehorse she kept at a rundown stable in the worst neighborhood in Brooklyn.
    “Can you
not
do that?” The Psychiatrist was staring at Ruby’s mouth, genuinely offended that Ruby would suck on a piece of candy at a time like this.
    “Sorry,” Ruby said, removing the Fireball. She thought about the times Ed had asked her not to chew huge wads of gum. Ruby had trouble with moderation. She was fairly well adjusted, she had loved her late father, and she cherished her eccentric mother and difficult sister. She had had an alcohol problem and churned through a fair amount of love affairs, but who hadn’t. On the whole, she was friends with herself. She just wasn’t moderate.
    Jody suddenly ducked back into the bathroom. Maybe another round of vomiting. Ruby stared at the half-sucked Fireball she was still holding in her hand. The red food-coloring coating was gone, and all that was left was a little white ball.
    When Jody emerged, she was holding a garbage bag. Before Ruby could say anything, The Psychiatrist reached down, picked her husband’s leg off the floor, and put it in the garbage bag. Ruby was glad she’d spit that Fireball out.
    Ruby watched her psychiatrist tie a knot in the top of the garbage bag, walk into her office, and deposit the whole thing in a Carnegie Hall tote bag. Ruby didn’t know what offended her most, the defilement of the Carnegie Hall tote bag or her psychiatrist’s close-to-cavalier comportment.
    Jody marched back out of her office and suddenly grabbed Ruby’s elbow and unceremoniously guided her to the front door.
    “Hey!” Ruby said as The Psychiatrist closed the door in her face.
    Ruby stood there, blinking into the day. It was still bright under a cheerful, glaring orb of sun, but to Ruby it felt as though the temperature had plummeted. She shivered.
    Ruby’s first instinct was to call Ed even though Jody had ordered her not to involve him. She deliberated. Fished her phone out of her bright green backpack. As she stood holding the phone, it started vibrating in her hand. She flipped it open.
    “Yeah?” She’d answered without checking the incoming number. Always dangerous.
    “It’s Ed.” He sounded harried.
    “Hi. You okay?” Ruby tried not to think of Jody or of the husband’s leg.
    “I’ll be late,” Ed said defensively.
    “Of course,” Ruby said.
    “Don’t be like that,” he said.
    “I’m not,” Ruby lied. “I was going to cook something,” she added. “I’ll leave some in the fridge for you.” Cooking
something
usually translated into Tofu Surprise. Cubes of tofu sautéed with vegetables and cayenne pepper. It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t good either.
    “Thanks,” Ed said. “Everything okay?”
    Ruby envisioned the leg.
    “I’m just leaving Jody Ray’s,” she said.
    “Oh.” Ed never asked about her sessions. Ruby didn’t know if this was due to a general distrust of psychiatry or to the fact that Ruby was seeing Jody in order to deal with the murder of an ex-lover.
    “How’s Juan the Bullet?” Ruby tried to sound cheerful, optimistic, anything but what she was.
    “I think he’s better,” Ed said. “But I probably can’t tell anymore. I’m worrying so much, objectivity’s out the window. Never mind sanity.”
    “I know,” Ruby said.
    “I’m sorry,” Ed said. “Sorry for how distracted I’ve been.”
    “It’s fine,” Ruby said. “Don’t worry.”
    There was an amiable moment of silence. Then Ruby told Ed she was heading out to the barn to do her chores. In exchange for free board for Jack Valentine, the former racehorse who’d been given to her when a small fracture had ended his racingcareer, Ruby mucked out stalls, cleaned tack, and groomed the eight horses that lived in a ramshackle barn owned by her friend Coleman.
    “I’ll see you when you get