Buttercup Read Online Free Page A

appeared orange in the sun. Red had a sleepy eye, was missing a front tooth, and spit when he talked. That wasn’t all. Red was best known for an unnatural cruel streak when it came to the dames. Sure, they all had quick tempers and a history to justify it. But Red’s brutality toward the birds, brave enough to spend a little time with him, gave even Silvio pause, especially when he was liquored. Silvio had heard tales of Red’s mother being the cause. She was a prostitute who used to put her cigarettes out on Red's arms and then force him to watch her when she serviced her clients.
    The rumor in the can was that Red killed her. He had heard from an even more reliable source that Red had witnessed the murder of his mother.
    Whatever the story, it was Red’s to tell. And in his gang, no one had to share a thing.
    Next to Red running the gun, was Touchy—he earned his name in the can. A hard-boiled stick-up man who’d rather kill first and ask questions later. Touchy was the reason two jobs got messy quick. When the vault turned up empty, a cash teller took it in the face and a customer in the gut for just giving questioning looks over Touchy’s tantrum. Of course Silvio ‘Bloodshot’ Garelli got blamed for it. As a reward, they all had nooses fitted for their necks in over ten states.
    At the wheel was always the same, Fat Jim’s little brother, Manny.
    Fat Jim was the only casualty of the gang. Manny rolled with them ever since. The Gimp is what they called him. Having a clubfoot, Manny was prone to scratching whenever he got nervous. He was an alright kid though. Manny would empty his pockets for any pair of legs promising to split and give him a good time. But he was far too shy to make a real connection. He reminded Silvio of Jelly, but that was a long time past.
    Manny wasn’t useful for much except driving. He used to run firewater before the repeal of prohibition; something Silvio did in another lifetime as well. Racing cars was their blood until the hunt for money became its supplement. On a night like tonight, with coppers on their backs and the main roads blocked, there was only the bootlegger run to take them across the state lines.
    “I said I need a piss!” Red grunted from under his hat.
    “Keep a lid on it,” Manny shot back. “We can’t stop just yet. Right, boss?”
    Silvio’s eyes darted to the night, the silent black void beyond the tangled branches of the forest trees and beyond them the open plains of farmland. Normally, a straight run in the night and then a hiding place at sunrise was in order. Capture might be waiting after each bend of the road.
    Not tonight. Plans had changed just for her. In another life, she would be his Moll , but in this one she was just his ghost. She cursed him with night-sweats and dreams. It had been six years since he laid eyes on her. He reached inside his coat pocket and removed the worn brown paper flyer.
    In the dark of the car, he studied the writing. It was a hand drawn carnival advertisement that promised food, games, girls, and fun times.

    Silvio didn’t believe in fate. But even he had to marvel at the hand of destiny. After years of wondering and searching, a drifting wind blew his second chance under his boot heel just as he stepped in front of the Wells Fargo Bank’s doors. Curious, he knelt to retrieve it from the sidewalk. The carnival boasted wonders never seen, such as the bearded lady, elephant boy, snake charmer, and twins with one body. A Ferris wheel and trapeze act were the main draw. But at the very top corner was a featured spot for a hooch dancer, Buttercup.
    “Gimp, take Danberry lane. We’re making a stop,” Silvio said, crumbling the flyer in his gloved fist.
    “Stop? Out here? Why, boss? You said—”
    “Because I need to take a piss, kid. Do as he said,” Red grumbled, stumping his foot in the backseat. Silvio didn’t bother to answer. He found her. He thought about this moment constantly before he broke the chain gang.