Blacktop Wasteland(59)

“Have a seat,” Billy said. There was only one empty seat among the three chairs. Ronnie was sitting in the first chair and Quan was sitting in the second. Beauregard sat next to Quan.

“Bug, I’m—” Ronnie started to say but Beauregard cut him off.

“Shut your mouth,” he said. Ronnie dropped his head. Beauregard crossed his arms. Quan had his head in his hands. His breathing was hard and labored. He was tapping his right foot like he was keeping time with the world’s fastest rhythm section. A box fan sat in the corner moving the stifling air around. A single light bulb encased by a wire mesh cage shone down from the ceiling. A few empty plastic milk crates were stacked in the far-left corner of the room. Beauregard figured it had been a storeroom at one time. Now it was a shabby torture chamber masquerading as an office.

Both Quan and Ronnie had been smacked around. Quan’s mouth was bleeding profusely. His white basketball jersey was covered with red splotches. Ronnie had a mouse under his left eye. His nose was swollen and crooked. Neither of them had been restrained either. There was obviously no need. There was no fight in them. Beauregard could see that as soon as he entered the room. Their stooped shoulders and downcast eyes told the story of their submission. If it came down to it, they wouldn’t be any help.

Beauregard heard the hinges on the door creak.

“Well now, the gang’s all here,” a high, tremulous voice said. Beauregard felt Quan flinch.

A tall, thin man entered the room. He wore a neatly pressed pair of khakis and a black button-down shirt under a black corduroy vest. He was narrow in the hips with jagged angles for arms. His ruddy face was narrow and ended in a wickedly sharp chin. A dark pile of brown hair tinged with gray stood up on his head like he had stuck his finger in a light socket while wearing a bad toupee. He stood in the center of the room directly under the lone light. He grinned at them. A rakish smile that spread across his face like spilled milk. Huge teeth too white to be real filled his mouth.

“This here the Apple Dumpling Gang, huh?” the man said. He laughed at his own joke. After a half a beat, all of his men laughed as well. He motioned toward the chair behind the desk. Carl grabbed it and the man parked himself in front of Quan. He crossed his legs. A smirk had replaced his grin.

“I love movies. Don’t matter what kind. Horror movies, crime movies, old movies, new movies. Hell, I even like romantic comedies. Love me some John Hughes. And Molly Ringwald? Whew whee,” the man said.

“We so sorry—” Ronnie tried to say but the walking wall who had opened the office door smacked him in the back of the head. Ronnie pitched forward and landed on the floor in a heap. Jim Bob and Carl grabbed him by his arms and sat him back in his chair.

“But some of my favorite movies are heist movies. I love that shit, man. Something about a heist that goes down smoother than a twenty-dollar hooker gets me every time,” the man said. He stood and turned his chair around. He sat back down and rested his arms on the backrest before laying his chin on his hands.

“You gotta tell me. How’d y’all do it? Did y’all sew stop watches in your gloves? What kind of engine was in that car? Who came up with driving off the damn overpass? That was some brass balls shit there, I tell ya,” the man said.

No one spoke.

“Come on now, it’s alright. Y’all can talk now,” the man said.

Still no one spoke.

“It was a modified V8 with a nitro kit,” Beauregard said finally.

The man winked at him. “Nice, nice. See, that’s what I’m talking about. Heist movie shit,” he said.

“Are you Lazy?” Beauregard asked. He heard footsteps behind him. He braced himself for the blow but the man in front of him held up his hand.

“Hold on, Wilbert. This fella here just reminded me I forgot my manners. My mama named me Lazarus Mothersbaugh on account of how I died during delivery and then came back to life once they got the cord from round my neck. But everyone else round here calls me Lazy. I think cuz they was too lazy to say my whole name,” Lazy said. All his men tittered except for Billy. He was staring off into space.

“Now back to the matter at hand. If you boys had robbed any other jewelry store anywhere else, you would be sitting pretty as you please. But you robbed one that belonged to me. So that means you in some deep doo-doo,” Lazy said.

He smiled but this time it seemed forced. Beauregard thought it was an actor’s smile. Just another part of a performance.

“Any of you ever heard of me?” Lazy asked. Quan raised his hand. “Goddamn, boy, you ain’t in English class,” Lazy said. Carl laughed.

“You boys really screwed me over at that store. I was using it as a pay window of sorts. I got hold of some diamonds in a deal that we don’t have to go into right now. Let’s just say I’m a silent partner in some very interesting developments. But son, them diamonds better than cash. Easier to carry and impossible to trace. That comes in handy when you paying for two or three of them Mexican fillies from out West. Yessir, I had a nice lil setup out there. And you boys fucked it up good. Now the cops snooping around. And some of my transactions have gone south,” Lazy said. He sucked his teeth and nodded his head. “But goddamn, the way you pulled it off, well I just gotta tip my hat to you. Now that girl, what’s her name, Burning Man?”

“Jenny.”

“Yeah, Jenny. She said you was the brains, Ronnie. You the one that put it all together,” Lazy said. He pointed one long narrow finger at Ronnie. Ronnie’s face was ashen. “But Beauregard, you was the one behind the wheel. Goddamn, that was some high-test driving there, boy.” Lazy kept pointing at Ronnie, but he turned his head to look at Beauregard. “That wasn’t your first time at the rodeo, was it?” he asked.