Blacktop Wasteland(79)
His mother trembled as her eyelids quivered. They rose slowly and Beauregard could see her mind working as she struggled to focus.
“You look like hell,” she said finally.
Beauregard chuckled. “I know.”
“What time is it?”
“A little after nine.”
“They let you in after visiting hours?”
“I didn’t give them much of a choice.”
Ella gave him a long sideways glance.
“What’s wrong? Did they tell you I only had a week left?”
“No. Hey Mama, you remember that time we picked all them blackberries out back of the trailer? We must have picked a gallon. Daddy came by later, brought me that knockoff G.I. Joe action figure. I think it was called Action Man or something? He stopped by with that and he helped us pick some of the blackberries. Then we went inside, and you made that cobbler. Remember that?”
“They must have told you I’m gonna die in an hour,” Ella said. Beauregard threw his head back and laughed. Ella shivered.
“God, you sound like your Daddy,” Ella said. Beauregard stopped laughing.
“Nah. I was just thinking. It wasn’t always bad. You know with you and me and Daddy. That day was nice. Wasn’t often we got to act like that.”
“Like what?”
“A family,” Beauregard said.
Ella stared straight ahead.
“You running, ain’t ya?” she said.
“Now why you say that?”
“Mothers know their children.”
“I’m not running. I just gotta take care of some things.”
“Huh. That’s what he used to say. Then one day something took care of him.”
Beauregard got out of his chair. He went to his mother’s bedside. He leaned over the railing and kissed her on her forehead.
“You can be as mean as a rattlesnake dipped in arsenic sometimes, but you’re my Mama and I love you,” he said into her ear. “I don’t expect you to say it back.” He gently ran his hand over her brow before heading for the door. Ella watched him walk out and turn down the hall. She licked her dry lips.
“Goodbye, Bug,” she whispered.
TWENTY-NINE
Reggie took another hit. He hadn’t done coke in a long time. He preferred the languid honey-drip high a taste of heroin provided. However, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Ann had coke, so he did coke. As soon as it hit his bloodstream, he remembered why he didn’t like it. Every inch of his skin increased in tactility by a thousand percent. Even the strands of his hair seemed to be receiving sensory input. Ann took the vial from him and poured out a thin line on the back of her hand. She snorted and immediately started rubbing her nose vigorously.
“Goddamn Almighty! That shit is potent,” she said.
“Uh huh,” Reggie said. His heart was Irish clog hopping in his chest.
“Come on. Let’s do something. Coke makes me horny.”
“What, you hungry?” Reggie asked.
Ann crinkled her nose and grabbed his crotch.
“No, I’m HORNY. We can eat after,” she cooed.
Reggie let her pull him on top of her. As he was letting her slide his pants down, he heard a commotion out front. That wasn’t unusual. Wonderland was nothing but one long commotion with momentary respites of peace and quiet.
* * *
Whenever Beauregard came up to Wonderland, he marveled at how the name had stuck. He couldn’t believe any of the inbred zombie tweakers that hung out up here understood the concept of sarcasm. To them, it really was a Wonderland. Beauregard thought a better name would be “Lost All Hope Land” or “Crabs and Syphilis Land.” Secreted deep in the rolling hills of Caroline County at the end of an oddly scenic drive, Wonderland was an oasis of sorts. A collection of four double-wide trailers connected to form a two-legged T near a picturesque lake. Wonderland’s pastoral location was at odds with the entertainment it provided. You could indulge a wide variety of vices at Wonderland. The ones that were the most popular were the old favorites. Sex and drugs with a splash of white lightning thrown in for good measure. He hadn’t bothered going to Reggie and Ronnie’s place. Ronnie was a lying, double-crossing piece of shit but even he wasn’t that stupid. He might have thought he’d gotten rid of Bug, but he knew he still had Lazy to contend with. There was no way he’d go back to their trailer. He’d want to go somewhere he felt safe. Somewhere he could relax while he tried to unload the platinum. Somewhere he could celebrate outsmarting both Bug and Lazy.
Wonderland definitely fit the bill.
A menagerie of cars and jacked-up trucks were parked off to the right near the base of the mountain. Reggie’s car was parked next to a truck with a Dixie flag in the back window. A honky-tonk standard was blasting out of one of the windows of the mobile home monstrosity. Back in the day, a place like this might be called a shot house. Nowadays, shoot-up house was a more apt description. Beauregard tucked his .45 into his waist and stomped over the moss and grass to the foot of the T where someone had fashioned a crude front door.
A thin man sat on a stool near the door sipping from a flask. He gave Beauregard a long hard look.
“What’s up, Hoss?” he asked.
“What up, Skeet,” Beauregard said.