Desperation Road(27)

The end, he thought. Then he corrected himself.

The beginning.

He walked down the church steps and the exhaustion grabbed him as the chimes in the steeple rang and announced 5:00 a.m. There was nothing to do but go and lie down. Several blocks later he turned onto his street and he saw the truck in his driveway.

Those sons of bitches, he whispered.

He parked the truck at the end of the street and grabbed the 20-gauge from behind the seat and walked toward the house. The light was on in the living room and Russell walked quietly to the front door and it was open, a foot wide. He nudged it fully open with the barrel of the shotgun and he saw Larry standing at the mantel and holding the picture of Sarah.

Larry looked at him and held the frame toward him. “That’s real sweet.”

Russell stepped through the doorway with the gun barrel toward the floor. “Get out of here,” he said.

Larry set the frame down on the mantel. He adjusted the angle once. And then twice. “I don’t sleep much,” he said. He looked back at Russell.

“So what?”

“Just so you know. I don’t sleep much. Ain’t going to.”

“Me either.”

“I guess you know she’s signed, sealed, delivered,” Larry said. He pointed his thumb at Sarah. “Shame, too. She was a good ride. That’s what I hear. Woman’s got to cope somehow when her man is gone away.”

Russell raised the barrel and held it on Larry. “I told you to get the hell out of here.”

“I saw her damn near strip naked downtown one night. Dancing and drunk and it was hot as hell. This ol’ boy started grabbing at her on the dance floor and next thing we knew she was down to her bra. Skirt was up. He had his hands full of it.”

“Where’s your stupid brother?”

“I think I might’ve even stuck a five in her panties. It was a good show.”

Larry picked up the picture frame again and rubbed her face on his zipper. “Like that, honey. Like that,” he said. He grinned and winked at Russell.

“Come on out. I know you’re here,” Russell said.

Walt moved into the living room from the kitchen. He was holding a beer he’d gotten from the refrigerator in one hand and he had a pamphlet he had taken from the manila folder in the other.

“Becoming a citizen again,” Walt read. “How to become a model member of your community.” Walt held the brochure out to Larry and Larry laughed.

“I don’t get the feeling it’s gonna be that easy,” Larry said.

“He’s got a whole file in there,” Walt said. “Looks like they ain’t expecting to see him again.”

“I would not count on that. You know he’s gonna fuck up again.”

“Bound to.”

“Some stupid little slip and he’ll be back.”

“Just one.”

“Like shooting somebody. That’d be real dumb.”

Russell raised the shotgun and held aim on Larry and then he spelled the word trespassing out loud. One slow letter at a time.

“It’s got two s’s,” Walt said.

“It’s got three s’s,” Larry said.

“No it don’t.”

“Yeah it does.”

“No it don’t.”

“You want him to do it again?”

“Shut the hell up and get your ass out of here,” Russell said.

“Here, Walt. You want some of this?” Larry handed the picture to his brother.

“Nah,” Walt said. “I know where all that’s been.”

“I said get the fuck out of here,” Russell said.

“That ain’t exactly what you said,” Walt said.

“You look like a fag with that beard,” Larry said. “Don’t he, Walt?”

“Mostly.”

“Put the picture down.”

Larry dropped the frame on the floor and smashed it with his heel. Walt turned up the bottle and finished the beer and then he threw it at Russell but he was wild right and Russell didn’t flinch as the bottle smashed on the wall behind him. He stuck the pamphlet in his back pocket.

“Our boy has a shotgun,” Larry said.

“That ain’t fair,” Walt said.

“For now.”

“They do make more than one.”

“Where’d you get that?” Larry said. “Part of your package when they showed you the door? Or Daddy give it to you?”

“I’m gonna count to three and then one of you is gonna lose a foot,” Russell said. He put the shotgun against his shoulder and aimed at Larry’s feet.

“Fine,” Larry said. “Come on, Walt. Guess we gonna have to come back tomorrow.”

“One,” Russell said.

“Where’s your girl? The one you left the Armadillo with?”

“Two.”

“See? We’re watching you, boy,” Larry said. “Know where you are. Who you with.”

Walt grabbed Larry’s arm and pulled him on, his eyes a little wider than Larry’s at the sight of the gun. They moved away from the mantel and in front of the couch and toward the front door. Russell circled around them. Walt walked out first and Larry stopped in the doorway.