Blacktop Wasteland(44)

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine,” he said. For a fraction of a second, he wondered why such a small store would have that much in diamonds sitting in a safe. The bag of money they handed him forced that idea to flee like a startled rabbit. It didn’t matter. With what they were giving him, he could pay Chuly, give everybody their cut, and still have enough to shit on a gold-plated toilet.

After the meeting, they hit the town. Drinking up and down the alphabet streets. Going to rooftop clubs where the waitresses walked around opening champagne bottles with swords. They’d eaten in restaurants with names Ronnie couldn’t pronounce. They had even picked up some women who had turned out to be working girls. He and Reggie and Brandon had taken turns with all three girls. Ronnie had lived out one of his fantasies and snorted coke off the sexiest hooker’s ass. They had partied like rock stars. And why not? He was in high fucking cotton now. No more counting loose change for gas. He wasn’t Bill Gates rich, but he was far from poor. Even though the AC was on, he lowered the window. He let out a loud whooping rebel yell.

“Hello?” Jenny said.

Ronnie raised the window. “Hey, sugar bottom. I’m on my way to you right now. I feel like Santa Claus. Can I put something in your stocking?”

“You got the money?” Jenny asked.

Ronnie frowned at the phone. She sounded … strange. Like a kid who had dropped his ice cream cone, lost his puppy, and seen his dad get beat up all on the same day.

“Yeah, I sure do. I’ll be there in like forty-five minutes. Maybe sooner. This Mustang got some kick.”

“Okay.” She hung up. She didn’t even ask about the car.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he said, staring at the phone.





SIXTEEN



Beauregard got back to Red Hill a little after six. He got to the bank just before the drive-thru window closed. He deposited three thousand for the mortgage payment and another five for all the other bills. He left the bank and headed for the nursing home. He pulled in and headed straight for the administrator’s office.

Mrs. Talbot was putting her laptop in a leather valise.

“Mr. Montage, how are you? I’m just about to leave for the day. Perhaps you can come back in the morning? I can help you arrange transportation for your mother. And I’ll be more than happy to organize her oxygen deliveries at your home,” she said. Beauregard could count every one of her capped teeth as she smiled at him.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said. He had already counted out $30,000 in the car. He put six bundles of $100 bills on Mrs. Talbot’s desk. Each bundle consisted of fifty $100 bills. The smile on Mrs. Talbot’s face melted away like the wax from a cheap candle.

“Mr. Montage, this is highly unusual.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve paid y’all in cash before. I’ve specifically paid YOU in cash before when my Mama has shown her ass up in here. So, could you please give me a receipt? I’ll have the remainder of the money later this week. I don’t have any change right now,” he said.

Mrs. Talbot sat down and pulled out her laptop.



* * *



His mother was lying back against a pillow that was engulfing her head. A few cardboard boxes were stacked in the far corner of the room. A talking head chattered on from the television about the weather. The rain that had blessed Carytown was not headed to Red Hill. She was so still he almost thought she was dead. Her thin chest barely rose as she took a breath. He turned to leave.

“You gonna make me sleep on the porch?” she asked. She sounded weaker than the last time he had visited her. He went to her bedside.

“No.”

“Oh joy, I get to be in the big house, Massa,” she said.

“I paid the bill. Well, most of it.”

Her eyes widened. “That was you?”

Beauregard frowned. “What was me?”

“That shit on the news. The jewelry store. When they said the robbers got away in a Buick Regal that jumped an overpass under construction, I knew it. I just knew it. Sounded like something your Daddy would have done.” She started to cough ferociously. Beauregard grabbed the pitcher off her nightstand and poured her a glass of water.

“Don’t you worry about that.”

“You would do anything not to have me at your house, wouldn’t you?”

“Mama, please. It’s not that. I’m just trying to do what’s best for you.”

“Right. Right.” She coughed again, and he gave her another sip. She did not say thank you. Beauregard smoothed her head scarf.

“They gonna find you.”

“I told you don’t worry about that.”

“They gonna find you, and you gonna have to run just like he did. Leave your kids and your wife behind. Let them fend for themselves like your Daddy did to me.”

“To us,” Beauregard said.

She ignored his correction. “You thought you was saving him that day at the Tastee Freez. All you did was postpone the inevitable.”

Beauregard flinched. “Mama, don’t,” he said.

His mother turned her head. The low fluorescent lights gave her a cadaverous appearance.

“‘I’ll save you, Daddy. I’ll stop the bad men from hurting you.’ And what did he do? Left town while they tossed you in a cage. Lord knows I didn’t have no money for a good lawyer. You did all that for him and he just ran.”