Blacktop Wasteland(47)

In response to her request Darren gave him a lazy goodbye wave.

“Night, Stink.”

The two of them went down the hall and left Beauregard alone in the living room. The news was the usual collection of local political stories blown up to Watergate proportions. Human interest stories that weren’t all that interesting. A report about a fire at an apartment complex in Newport News. Beauregard was just about to cut off the television and head to bed when the talking head mentioned Cutter County.

“And new at eleven, authorities have released the name of the man killed in last Monday’s attempted jewelry store robbery. Eric Gay, nineteen, of Cutter County was killed in the botched robbery. He leaves behind a wife and a young son. Our Ellen Williams spoke with Mr. Gay’s widow Caitlin as she struggles to find the words to one day explain to her son what happened to his father,” the talking head said. The screen jumped from the studio to a cramped trailer. A young white woman was holding a picture in one arm and a baby with an ecru complexion in the other.

“Attempted?” Beauregard said out loud.

As the camera zoomed in on the picture, it showed a young man smiling in his high school basketball uniform. He was kneeling with one hand on a basketball and the other hand on the floor. He hadn’t had the time or the money to take any new photos that could be used on the air. When you were that age, you thought you had plenty of time for everything. There would be time later for a professional portrait with your wife and your new baby. Except later had been stopped in its tracks by a bullet.

“That’s right, Frank. Caitlin cried as she told me how she is struggling with the idea of explaining to her son Anthony how his father died.”

The segment went on for another five minutes, but Beauregard didn’t pay attention. He gripped the arm of the couch so tight his hand began to ache. All he could see was Eric Gay’s smiling face. The same face that had stared at him pleading for help on the side of the road.

He got up and went into the kitchen. He grabbed one of the beers he had bought earlier. He checked the sink for a bottle opener. When he didn’t find it, he started looking through the drawers.

Why had the news reported the robbery as an attempt? He’d seen the box. Seen the way Ronnie held on to it like it was a life preserver in the middle of the North Atlantic. He might be running game about the amount of the cut, but he had gotten paid. So why was somebody lying to the cops?

Beauregard rifled through the forks and spoons. Nothing.

Why had Eric Gay been in the store? He had told him he was broke. Maybe someone had given them some money. Slipped $500 in a card for the baby. Maybe Eric had gone to get his wife a gift. A thank you for bringing his son into the world. He had wanted to do that for Janice when she had Ariel. He’d thought about doing it for Kia when she had given birth to Javon. By the time Darren entered the picture, other things seemed more important.

He opened the catch-all drawer. There were rolls of duct tape, a ruler, a device to open jars, and other miscellaneous items that tend to accumulate during the life of a household. A bottle opener was not among their number.

Eric and Caitlin had named their baby Anthony. In the book of baby names Janice had dog-eared while carrying Ariel, it said Anthony meant praiseworthy. When they found out it was a girl, they settled on Ariel because Janice liked a cartoon character with the same name. When he and Kia had the boys, she picked the names. He had suggested “Anthony” both times. A subtle tribute to his Daddy’s memory. Kia had shot him down both times.

Now there was a boy who would never have memories of his daddy. He would grow up without a father just like Beauregard.

He hadn’t really thought they would actually do it. Why the fuck had they named the baby Anthony?

Beauregard hurled the bottle to the floor. It shattered. Shards of glass flew across the kitchen. The beer followed the uneven curve of the floor and pooled under the table.





SEVENTEEN



Ronnie pulled into Jenny’s apartment complex with the radio blaring and an empty pint bottle of Jack on the floor. The smile on his face became wider the closer he got to her door. He knocked three times, paused, and then knocked twice more. She opened the door a crack. Ronnie saw she hadn’t unlatched the chain.

“You got the money?”

He could barely see her face through the opening in the door. “Well, hello to you too. You gonna let me in?”

“Can’t you just pass it to me?”

“No, not really. I got it in these boxes,” he said, taking the cereal boxes from under his arm.

“Cereal boxes?”

Ronnie grinned again. “If the cops stop me with nearly a hundred grand in cash, they gonna ask questions. If they see a back seat full of cereal boxes, they just gonna think I’m a big fan of breakfast.”

“Whatever. Just slide the box through the door.”

A scowl rippled across Ronnie’s face.

“You got somebody in there?”

“Ronnie, just give me my money.”

“Hey, it ain’t like we married or nothing, I’m just asking. I mean, I was hoping I could spend the night, but if you got some dude in there, I’ll go on down the road. Can’t say I ain’t disappointed.”

He handed her one box then the other. Jenny snatched them out of his hand with startling quickness.

“You alright? You don’t seem like yourself.”