Blacktop Wasteland(63)

She knitted her brow as she appraised him.

“Bug, there’s blood on your face,” she said. She sounded far away, like she was speaking through tin cans tied with a string.

“It’s not mine,” he said. He pulled his shirt off and stepped out of his pants. He slipped out of the room and went to the shower. He took off his underwear and socks and let the shower run so the water could warm up. He stepped over the edge of the tub and let the water hit him full on in the face.

He was just starting to lather up when the shower curtain was pulled back so hard a few of the rings popped loose.

“Bug, what the fuck is going on?” Kia said. The water splashed over her face and chest, soaking the T-shirt.

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“It’s got to do with that job, don’t it? I told you! I fucking told you to leave it alone. Sell that goddamn car, but no, you wouldn’t listen. Now you come in here after being gone all night with somebody’s blood on your face,” she hissed.

The hiss became a sob. Beauregard grabbed her and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I’m going to handle it. I promise,” he said. She pushed him away. He studied her face. She was still crying, but the tears were lost in the water that was raining down on them both.

“You always say you going to handle it. But I was here last night waiting for a call saying you was dead. You ain’t handling it if I end up a widow,” she said. “I know you was pissed at me for talking to Jean but it was true. Do you know how many times I’ve planned your funeral in my head? You gonna handle it. How can you stand there and say that to me with a straight face?”

Beauregard turned off the water. He stepped out of the shower. Kia took a step backwards. He reached around her and grabbed a towel. He wiped his face and chest, then hung the towel back on the rack.

“Because I always do,” he said finally.





TWENTY-THREE



Kelvin raised his hand to get the waitress’s attention. She came strutting over in her too-tight jeans and too-short T-shirt.

“What ya need, boo?” she asked.

“Two beers,” Kelvin said.

“You got it, sugar.”

She came back with two lukewarm bottles of beer. Kelvin grabbed his and took a long swig.

“You really think it will work?” Kelvin asked.

“I ain’t got no choice,” Beauregard said. He took a sip of his beer.

“Well, when we gotta be in North Carolina?” Kelvin asked.

“I can’t ask you to do that, K,” Beauregard said. The waitress played a blues song on the jukebox. Danny’s sound system struggled to accommodate the deep bass coming through its speakers. There were only two other patrons in the bar sitting in the corner. He and Kelvin had just closed the shop for the day. Kelvin had suggested they get a beer. Once they got seated, Beauregard just let all the events of the last thirty-six hours spill out. He couldn’t tell Kia and he didn’t want to tell Boonie. Kelvin was the only person he could talk to. He hadn’t been asking for his help. He just needed to vent.

“Nah, fuck that. If you think I’m gonna let you go on another job with low-rent Jesse James and his retarded brother, you done lost your mind. He the reason you in this mess,” Kelvin said.

“It’s my mess and I gotta clean it up.”

“Beauregard, don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?”

Kelvin dropped his voice.

“I owe you. Not just for giving me a job. I owe you for Kaden. Let me help. I need to help you,” he said.

“You don’t owe me shit for that,” Beauregard said.

“That’s not how I feel. Let me do this,” Kelvin said.

Beauregard finished his beer. He held two fingers up and the waitress winked at him from across the bar. A few more people trickled in just as a sugary doo-wop song filled the air.

“We got six days to get ready.”

“What kind of resistance we liable to get?” Kelvin asked.

The waitress dropped off the beers. Beauregard waited until she walked away to continue.

“A lot, I think. I asked around about this fella. Seems like him and Lazy been butting heads for a while. You remember Curt Macklin? Got a chop shop in Raleigh? He said that most of the OGs and crews in the Carolinas and Virginia done fell in line with this guy. Lazy the only one taking a stand, and it ain’t going so well for him. Curt told me Lazy sent some boys to a spot this fella was using to cook some meth. He sent them boys back to Lazy in a five-gallon bucket,” Beauregard said.

Kelvin made a face. “What they call him?”

“Curt said all he ever heard them call him was Shade. I asked Curt was he really that bad. Curt said he was worse,” Beauregard said.

“Why we ain’t never heard of him before? Or this Lazy dude?” Kelvin asked.

Beauregard shrugged. “I guess the kind of shit they into don’t really require wheelmen,” he said.

“Like what?” Kelvin asked.

“I talked to a doughboy from Newport News I know. Did a run for him to Atlanta. He told me Lazy basically runs everything west of the Roanoke Valley. He owns a bunch of smoke shops out there. Some payday loan places too,” Beauregard said.

“Legal loan sharking,” Kelvin said. Beauregard nodded.