The Hard Bounce - страница 4

Bang.

The world exploded red and I had Mullet’s windpipe in the middle of my squeezing fingers.

“Are you fucking nuts? Were you going to drive drunk with your fucking kids in the back?” Spittle flew from my lips onto Mullet’s reddening face. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Please don’t hurt my daddy!” Tiny fingers clasped at mine, trying to pry them open. Something deep inside was telling me to let go, but the rest of me wasn’t hearing it.

“Let him go, Boo.” Junior’s voice sounded miles away. I saw his hands on my arms, pulling me, but I couldn’t feel him there.

Mullet’s lips went blue, and his eyes started to roll up white.

Buddy was also trying frantically to loosen my grip. “Jesus Christ, you’re killing him! Let him go.” Buddy’s blood-slicked fingers kept slipping off mine.

Suddenly, an explosion shocked my hands off Mullet’s throat. I stepped back, my hands reflexively going to the place I thought I’d been shot. The truck listed down and to the left. Another explosion and the truck sank further. I wheeled my head to see Junior standing by the limp oversized tire, box-cutter in his hand. “Let’s go, Boo. They’re not going anywhere.”

I blinked a few times, regaining myself. One of the boys was halfway though the partition into the front seat. He was crying, snot running over his upper lip, screaming at me, the monster who was hurting his daddy. “Go away!” he shrieked. “Go away!” He threw an empty Red Sox souvenir cup at me. It bounced off my chest, clattered to the ground.

Junior took me by the arm and pulled me the long way around to the entrance of The Cellar so no one could tell the cops where to find us.

Junior walked at my side as we passed around the lot. I could feel his eyes on me. Without looking over, I said, “You got something to say?”

“Nothing specific. You okay?”

“Finer than Carolina. We just performed a public service, if you ask me.”

He didn’t ask me. “Fair enough,” he said. “You want a soda big guy?”

“Fuck off.”

Toward the front of the jam, an old lady in a beat up Dodge Omni and Red Sox cap gave me a big thumbs-up.

For some reason, that bothered me.

I could still hear the kids crying when we got back to the bar. I shouldn’t have been able to, but I did.

Soaked from the rain, we did our best to dry off with bar napkins. The flimsy napkins kept shredding, leaving little white pills on our clothes. Junior kept smirking, looking like he had something to say.

“What?”

“He’s not gay; he just likes fucking dead things?”

I held it in as long as I could, but one loose snort later and we both exploded into laughter. Junior doubled over, howling. My ribs ached from the force of my own guffaws. The guilt still gnawed, but I needed the laugh right then.

It was easy to cut the giggles, though, when we realized one of us had to clean up the pile of shit outside.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Junior asked, wiping away a tear.

“Of course.” If it was good enough to settle negotiations when we were eleven, it was good enough today.

“On shoot. One, two, three, SHOOT!”

Rock.

Junior made paper.

Shit.

“I’ll get you the shovel, garbage man,” Junior said. He hooted evilly as he trotted to the utility closet. I really hate it when Junior hoots.

An hour later, the show closed and I was only about two-thirds done. The crowd exiting the building my way covered their faces and made disgusted sounds as they passed. They were all smart enough not to make any comments. I had a shovel.

The cleanup left me glazed in vinegary old beer, ashes, and some viscous crap I didn’t even want to attempt identifying. It also left me deeply, deeply pissy. By the time I was down to the last shovelful, the storm had transitioned from drizzle to summer downpour.

Carefully, I pulled a cigarette from my pocket, mindful not to contaminate any part that was going into my mouth. The wet paper split and tobacco crumbled under my fingertips. I was just about to let loose with one of the longest, loudest, and most profane curses in the history of language when I heard a woman’s voice from the doorway behind me.