Blacktop Wasteland(62)

“You got a plan already?” Ronnie asked.

“I been making a plan since he shot Quan,” Beauregard said.

He climbed up the ditch bank and resumed walking down the road. Ronnie waited a few minutes before he fell in behind him. A tractor trailer passed them heading out of town at the same time Ronnie tried to ask Beauregard a question.

“What?” Beauregard asked.

“I said do you really think Jenny is dead?” Ronnie said.

Beauregard kept walking. “Yeah,” he said.

“I was supposed to go to the prom with her when we was in school. I got expelled the week before the dance. I waited for her out in the parking lot after it was over. When she came out of the school, the light from the hallway lit her up from behind. She looked like a redheaded angel. I guess she a real angel now,” Ronnie said.

Beauregard didn’t respond. The sound of their footsteps on the gravel that lined the shoulder filled the space between them.

“This plan you got, do it include killing these motherfuckers?” Ronnie asked.

Beauregard put his hands in his pockets. “Yeah.”

“They bad, ain’t they, Bug? They some bad motherfuckers, ain’t they?” Ronnie asked.

“They think they are. But they bleed like everybody else.”

They got back to Danny’s by eight. Beauregard gave Ronnie a ride back to his trailer.

“Give me the route information,” Beauregard said.

He had parked his truck behind Reggie’s car. Ronnie rooted around in his pocket and pulled out the scrap of paper.

“I’m going to call you tomorrow. We gonna need at least two other people. Can Reggie roll with us?” Beauregard asked. Ronnie shrugged, then slid his fingers through his hair.

“I dunno. He can drive. He ain’t no good with a gun, though. And he wouldn’t bust a grape in a food fight,” he said.

“If it goes the way I figure, all he gonna have to do is drive. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Beauregard said.

Ronnie got out of the truck. He leaned on the car door. The passenger’s window had been lowered all the way. “Bug, I swear if I had known that store belonged to somebody like this I would have never got y’all involved,” he said.

The look Beauregard gave him made Ronnie shut his mouth with an audible plop. He stood up straight and backed away from the truck. He watched as Beauregard backed out of the driveway doing 35. When he hit the road, he whipped the truck around. He spun his tires as he drove off toward the horizon.

Ronnie went into the trailer. Reggie was lying on the couch with his foot on the armrest. It was wrapped in duct tape and what appeared to be an old T-shirt. Ronnie slammed the door. Reggie sat up straight. He was holding Ronnie’s gun in his right hand. He swung the barrel around and aimed at the door.

“Jesus H. Christ, butt munch, put the gun down,” Ronnie wailed.

Reggie blinked his eyes a few times. “Ronnie! Holy shit, I’m sorry. I thought it was those guys coming back,” he said.

Ronnie held out his hand to Reggie. Reggie didn’t move for a few seconds.

“Oh yeah. Here, I don’t even know what to do with this thing,” he said as he gave Ronnie the gun.

“Pull the trigger, dingbat,” Ronnie said.

Reggie swung around and struggled to his feet. He hobbled over to his brother with unsteady steps. He threw his arms around him and squeezed him with unexpected strength.

“I thought you won’t never coming back,” he whimpered in his ear.

“What, and leave all this?” Ronnie said.

Reggie released him, and Ronnie helped him back to the couch. Reggie plopped down, and Ronnie plopped right next to him. They both leaned their heads back against the backrest in eerily similar motions.

“Ronnie, who were those guys?” Reggie said.

“Trouble with a capital T,” Ronnie said. He closed his eyes tight. Sleep was creeping up on him like an assassin.

“How’s your foot?” Ronnie asked.

“The bullet went straight through. It must have missed the nerves and stuff because I can still wiggle my toes. I cleaned it out with some peroxide and tied it up with the tape.”

“I know it hurt like a son of a bitch,” Ronnie said.

“I had some Oxy left. So, ya know. It’s okay right now,” Reggie said.

Ronnie rubbed his forehead. “Reggie.”

“Yeah.”

“How did they know the money was in the cereal boxes?”

“They came in waving guns, Ronnie. I … just blurted it out. I’m sorry. Is that what they wanted, though? The money?”

Ronnie snorted.

“Nah. They want everything, Reggie. They want everything we fucking got.”



* * *



Beauregard parked next to Kia’s car. The sun was up, and the grass glistened with dew. He got out of the truck and walked into the house. It was deathly quiet. He headed for the bedroom.

He slipped into the room without turning on the light. He was stripping off his shirt when the lamp on the nightstand came on.

“Where the fuck you been?” Kia asked. She was wearing one of his T-shirts and nothing else.

“Something came up,” he said.

“And you couldn’t call?”

“No,” he said.