Billie
Once the old Chevy took them far enough away from the scene of the botched robbery, Carter and Billie left it at the edge of a wooded area so the destroyed rear window wouldn't call attention to them. Carter gathered up his saddlebag and the rest of their items from the car.
“Maybe we should wipe down the interior? Like, to get rid of any prints?” she suggested.
Carter gave her a withering look and walked off into the woods without answering.
Billie rushed to keep up with him. There were lots of cacti standing like mute witnesses, plus sawgrass and scrub brush to trudge through.
After they'd walked for a couple of hours, she asked, “Do you know where we're headed?”
He kept marching forward silently.
“Okay,” she huffed. “I know I fucked up, all right? I was supposed to be watching the rest of the store, and I got distracted. You can't tell me you never had any kind of learning curve when you started doing this stuff.”
Carter let out a growl as he trudged through the dead leaves and underbrush.
“Fine,” she continued. “You're pissed, you don't feel like talking, whatever. But we should probably change into our new clothes and use the clippers on our hair before we hit someplace with people.”
He stopped in his tracks and threw the bags down on the ground. Then he kicked off his boots and started yanking his clothes off angrily, rummaging in the bags for his new ones. Billie stood frozen, her eyes glued to Carter's body as he stripped down to his underwear.
Carter saw her watching and reached into the shopping bags again, tossing the sundress and hat at her.
“Are you going to stand there and watch the show, or are you going to put your fucking clothes on?” he snapped. “This was your goddamn idea.”
Billie picked up the sundress. “Hey, at least you're speaking to me again. Should I change behind some bushes, or...?”
Carter scowled at her.
“Okay, okay,” she said, taking her shirt off and wriggling out of her jeans. Before she put on the dress, she stole a glance over at him to see if he was peeking. But he was sitting on a stump with his back to her.
She felt a pang of disappointment. She knew he was attracted to her too, but if he was refusing to indulge that with even a quick look at her in her undies, she figured he was even more upset than he seemed.
Billie unwrapped the clippers. They came with a pair of batteries, and she snapped them in place, hitting the switch. The clippers buzzed and she walked over to Carter sheepishly.
“It's a shame to have to cut such beautiful long hair,” she said.
He didn't answer.
She used the clippers carefully, cutting his mane short and evening out the sides and back. When she was done, she shook out the excess strands of brown hair and handed the device to him. “You should probably run this over your face, too.”
Carter gave himself a quick shave. Now that he was short-haired and clean-faced, he almost looked like a different person. He was still handsome, but he looked a lot more tame, like some once-wild dude who'd since gone to AA and found Jesus or something.
“Your turn,” Carter grunted. He stood up and brushed the hair off the stump, gesturing for her to sit.
“Have you ever, uh, cut a woman's hair before?” Billie asked nervously as she sat down.
He ignored her again, and the clippers connected with her hair a moment later, shearing off her long locks until she could feel air on the back of her neck.
Well, no matter how I look, at least I'll look different, she told herself. And that's the whole point, right?
But it didn't dull the anxiety she felt, knowing that a very angry man was cutting her hair.
When he was finished, Billie looked down at her long auburn hair in heaps on the ground. “Thanks,” she said. “Are we still planning to find a motel for the night, or...?”
Carter snatched the bags from the ground and started walking again. Billie rolled her eyes and followed him.
After another hour, they came out the other side of the woods and a found a small area just off the highway with a handful of motels and cheap restaurants. Carter avoided all of the major chains in favor of a tiny, grubby-looking dump called The Dreamland Motor Lodge. The few letters still clinging to its sign boasted “A/C” and “Color TV,” and hookers hung out in the parking lot.
“Guess we don't have to worry about them asking for ID or a credit card, huh?” Billie asked.
Carter walked to the motel. Every surface in the lobby seemed brown and sticky, as though coated by years of tobacco smoke. The rough gray seats and couches were covered with stains, and on the blurry television in the corner, an aging D-list celebrity was advertising adult diapers.
The woman behind the counter looked like a huge moldering peach with frizzy red hair. A massive pair of kooky sunglasses hung around her neck. Her name tag said “Kandie.”
“Hour or night?” Kandie asked, looking them over.
“Night,” Carter said flatly.
“Lucky you,” she replied. She flopped a large binder onto the counter and opened it, pointing to the next blank space on a sheet of lined paper. “Fifty bucks. Plus another twenty-five deposit in case you get piss, shit, blood, or vomit on anything. Write a name there. Real, fake, I don't give a dog's asshole.”
Billie saw Carter scrawl “Robert & Marion Morrison.” She noticed that the rows above it were mostly filled with “Smith” and “Jones,” and that most of the first names were “John.”
Carter rooted around in his saddlebag and found the cash, tossing it onto the counter. With a puffy hand, Kandie handed over a key. Her nails were leopard-printed, and each one looked about six inches long. Billie wondered how she went to the bathroom.
“Room Twelve,” she said. “Check-out time's 11. You stay a minute past that, my husband comes in with his sawed-off and God only knows what happens next.”
Carter nodded and started toward the door of the lobby. As Billie followed, the TV switched from the commercial to an ad for the local news. The reporter at the desk was a woman in her thirties with a bouffant hairdo and far too much makeup.
“Don't forget to tune in at six,” the reporter said. “We'll have Marty Breck with the seven-day forecast, plus Coach Gardner from Texas A&M will be joining us to talk about the big game against the Ragin' Cajuns this weekend. We'll also have more hilarious footage from the foiled gas station robbery up near Odessa...”
Carter didn't stop walking, but his pace slowed deliberately as he listened. “Don't look,” he whispered.
Billie kept her eyes forward.
“...as a grandfather in his sixties and his ten-year-old grandson showed a pair of would-be desperadoes why it's not a good idea to mess with Texas. The identity of the Unmasked Marauder is still unknown, but authorities say we should have that information for you by tonight.”
Behind them, Kandie let out a wheezing laugh. “'The Unmasked Marauder! That's a good one. I hope they find 'em and string 'em up with dunce caps on 'em.”
Carter growled, shoving the lobby door open.