Blacktop Wasteland(57)

“Nah, baby, it’s okay. I’ll be home soon,” Beauregard said. He slipped her off his lap and stood. Kia rose and wobbled but Beauregard gripped her left elbow and steadied her. Kelvin and his friend rose as well. Beauregard kissed Kia on her cheek.

“See you in a few, boo,” he whispered.

“You sure?” Kelvin asked.

“I’m sure. I’ll see you at the shop tomorrow,” Beauregard said.

“Bring me a doughnut when you come home,” Kia said.

“Alright, baby. I love ya.”

“You better,” she said. She headed for the door with Kelvin and his friend in tow. Kelvin looked back over his shoulder. Beauregard didn’t say anything. Kelvin followed the ladies out the door.

Beauregard turned around and went back toward the bar. As he passed the table with the two hillbilly hoodlums, he gave them a closer look. The one on the left had a bulge in his waistband on the right side. Beauregard wasn’t shocked they were able to get a gun into Danny’s. The bar didn’t have a bouncer. The sign on the door prohibiting weapons was taken as a suggestion by most of the patrons. Beauregard walked past the scarred man sitting at the bar. He had a bulge in the small of his back under his white shirt.

Beauregard went to the bathroom in the rear of the building. He ran some water in the sink and rinsed his face. Three armed men he had never seen before were in a bar in his hometown. Had the Thompsons hired some out-of-town hitters? That didn’t seem likely. Patrick and his dad were hands-on type of boys. If there was going to be any blowback, they would do it themselves. Beauregard dried his face with a paper towel.

He’d been watching the news off and on since he’d seen the report about Eric. The jewelry store manager had been found burned to a crisp in her apartment. Ronnie’s girl had skipped town but she’d left a dead body behind. The police said that arrests in the robbery were imminent but Beauregard thought that was some high-grade horseshit.

“Someone’s tying up loose ends,” he said to his reflection.

That was the risk you took being in the Life. No matter how smart you were or how well you planned there was always the possibility that some shitkicker would show up at your favorite bar looking to double tap your ass. It was the Sword of Damocles you willingly placed above your head every time you pulled a job.

He took a deep breath and exited the bathroom. He grabbed an empty chair from one of the tables in the bar and pulled it up to the table of the two gunmen in cheap blazers. He sat down next to the one on the left.

“Can I help you?” Lefty said.

“That depends,” Beauregard said. Quick as a cat he grabbed Lefty’s gun with his left hand while grabbing Lefty’s left wrist with his right. Boonie always said he had his father’s hands. He pressed the barrel of the gun into the hard slab of Lefty’s belly.

“Maybe you can tell me why you and your buddy at the bar been eyeballing me all night.” Righty reached under the table, but Beauregard shook his head. “No. Put your hands back on the table, palms down. Do it now or I’m gonna start pulling the trigger and I ain’t gonna stop until it goes click.”

Righty’s face bloomed as red as a circus balloon, but he did as he was told.

Beauregard’s neck tingled. Someone was coming up behind him. He didn’t take his eyes off the two gunmen. The scarred man pulled up a chair and sat down. He had a glass filled with some dark liquid.

“You a slick one, ain’t ya? Although to be honest, a one-armed monkey could get the drop on Carl here. No offense, Carl,” the scarred man said. Carl didn’t seem like he took too much offense to anything. Even a gun in his stomach.

“Who sent y’all?” Beauregard asked. He didn’t turn and face the scarred man. He kept the gun pressed against Carl’s belly. Someone had played a bluesy love song on the jukebox. Couples were slow dancing on the old parquet floor. Bodies gently twirling in small elliptical orbits in time with the mournful notes coming from the speakers.

“Right to the point. But this ain’t the part where you ask questions. This the part where you use your eyes and your ears,” the scarred man said. He reached into his pocket. Beauregard pressed the gun deeper into Carl’s flesh.

“Burning Man…,” Carl said in a low rumble of a voice.

“Don’t worry, Carl, Beauregard here is a smart boy. He ain’t gonna ruin your guts here for no good reason. I just got something on my phone he needs to see,” Billy said. He placed his phone on the table and touched the screen. Beauregard cut his eyes downward.

There was a cell phone on the table. A short video was playing. The video showed the tail lights of a car leaving Danny’s parking lot. Beauregard narrowed his eyes. The tail lights belonged to a Nova. Kelvin’s Nova.

“We was gonna pinch you when you left, but you made us. We had five guys. The three of us in one car and two more boys in another. Word has it you a real wild boy with a mean streak. But when you made Carl here, I says to myself, well, now we gonna dance. So, I told my boys in the other car to follow your little friends there. Now I seen how fast you is. And goddamn if you ain’t as fast as a knife fight in a phone booth. So you probably thinking you might be able to shoot me, Carl and Jim Bob,” Billy said.

Carl winced.

“But,” he continued, “if my boys don’t hear from me in say, oh I don’t know, five minutes, they gonna light up that car like the goddamn White House Christmas tree.”