Blacktop Wasteland(85)

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Beauregard said.

“Hey. You get a new phone?” she asked.

“Yeah. What you doing?”

“Me and Rip at the mall. What’s up?”

“Uh, nothing really. You ain’t spending that money, are you?” Beauregard asked.

“No. Me and Rip just hanging out. We both off.”

“Oh. Well, I just wanted to tell you something.”

“Tell me what?”

Beauregard waved a fly out of his face. The van didn’t have any AC anymore, so he had both windows open.

“I love you.”

Beauregard heard the indiscernible din of disembodied voices on the phone. The aural flotsam and jetsam of a large American mall. The cacophony of hundreds of footsteps. Everything but his daughter’s voice.

“I … I love you too, Daddy,” she said finally.

“I gotta go, baby,” Beauregard said.

“Okay,” Ariel said.

The line went dead.

Beauregard put the phone in his pocket. He climbed out of the van cradling the double-barrel shotgun in the crook of his arm. Fluffy cumulus clouds rolled across the sky, obscuring the late afternoon sun. He walked to the front of the van and leaned against the hood as he watched a long black car wind its way down Crab Thicket Road.





THIRTY-TWO



The Caddy came to a stop fifteen feet in front of Beauregard. It idled under the setting sun like some predatory beast growling at its prey. The passenger door opened, and Billy climbed out. Both rear doors opened next. Lazy and a man Beauregard didn’t recognize got out and stood beside the car. Lazy was wearing a light tan golf shirt and white pants. His wild hair looked like a woodland creature had made a nest in it. He was grinning at Beauregard. He started to walk forward but Beauregard pointed a shotgun at him.

“That’s far enough,” he said.

“Well here we are, Bug. This supposed to be a showdown? Like in—”

Beauregard cut him off. “No. No, it’s not. It’s just me giving you what’s yours and you leaving me and mine alone.”

Lazy let his tongue slide over his lips.

“Where’s Ronnie and Reggie, Beauregard?” Lazy asked.

“Nowhere you gotta worry about,” Beauregard said.

“Now see, if that’s how you treat your partners, how can I trust you? How do I know you ain’t replaced all the platinum with aluminum foil?” Lazy asked.

“Come take a look. Just move slow,” Beauregard said.

“Check it out, Burning Man. See if we all gonna go home happy,” Lazy said. Beauregard kept the shotgun trained on Billy as he walked backwards. Billy followed him at a relatively safe distance until they reached the back door of the van. Beauregard gestured toward the door with the shotgun. Billy gripped the handle, then looked back at Beauregard, whose slick brown face was unreadable. Billy opened the door while simultaneously jumping backwards.

“You can’t blame me for being jumpy,” he said. Beauregard didn’t acknowledge him. He poked his head around the swinging door. There in the back of the van was a pallet of metal coils five or six levels high. Billy closed the door and walked back to the Caddy. Beauregard followed him, listening to their feet crunch on the dry dead grass. Sweat was pouring down his face but he didn’t dare wipe his eyes.

“Well, what you say, Burning Man?” Lazy asked.

“It’s in there,” he said.

“The keys are in the van,” Beauregard said as he began to back away.

“Hold on. I can’t just put a member of my family in that van on your word,” Lazy said.

“What you saying?” Beauregard asked.

“I’m saying why don’t you start the van up for us? Make sure this ain’t like the beginning of Casino,” Lazy said.

Beauregard didn’t move.

“Or do you have a little surprise fixed up for us in there, Beauregard?” Lazy asked. A few crows cawed as they flew overhead. The clouds had parted and now the full fury of the sun was bearing down on them.

“Fine,” he said. He used one hand to reach through the driver’s window and cranked the motor. It came to life with a cough and a sputter, but it finally caught and turned over. It idled as rough as a rock polisher.

“Shit, is it gonna make it down the lane?” Billy asked.

“It’ll make it just fine,” Beauregard said.

“Alright then. Sal, go on get in and follow us back home,” Lazy said.

Beauregard stepped back and to the left. The man Beauregard didn’t recognize was wearing a white wife beater and blue jeans at least one size too small. He climbed in the van. “This got AC?” he asked in a squeaky tin whistle voice.

“No,” Beauregard said.

Lazy appraised him with his hands on his hips.

“You know this ain’t over, right? We gonna see you soon, son,” Lazy said. He winked at Beauregard.

“You wanna come for me, then come on. This…” He nodded at the van. “Is so that you leave my family out of it. What we got going on is between you and me. Don’t worry, I’ll be around. But I think you gonna have your hands full with Mr. Shade and his folks for a while,” Beauregard said.

“I just might. Don’t worry, though, we ain’t gonna forget about you,” Lazy said. He got back in the car. Billy used his thumb and forefinger to make a shooting motion toward Beauregard as he climbed back in the passenger seat. The driver put the car in gear. He backed up into a clutch of honeysuckle, then turned around and headed down the driveway. Sal followed them. They crept through the brush and over the potholes at a snail’s pace.