“Goddamn it, Cora, tell me something I don’t already know,” Roy said, jerking the rearview mirror around to assess the damage. That fucking Sully. Fucking, fucking, motherfucking Sully. “Son of a bitch damn near took my whole ear off, the cocksucker.”
“Who? Who done this to you, Roy?”
“Fuck it,” he told her, “just go.” From experience both deep and broad, Roy knew how quickly things headed south in the aftermath of one of his legendary bad impulses. It was a miracle, really, that he wasn’t already cuffed and secured in the backseat of some cruiser. Even with the help of this dim-witted bitch, he’d end up in one before long.
“You want me to run you out to the hospital?”
“Fuck no,” he said. The cops would be all over the hospitals, both here and in Schuyler.
“You need somebody to sew that ear back on. It’s just dangling there.”
He swiveled the mirror back in her direction. “I noticed that, Cora.” In fact, the sight had made him a little sick to his stomach. Worse, his equilibrium was clearly fucked, even sitting down. And his own voice sounded as tinny and far away as this idiot’s, which made him wonder if the skillet ear was permanently fucked. How had such a gimpy old fuck managed to sneak up on him like that anyhow? Well, to ask the question was to answer it. His blood had been up. Not just up, but roaring-in-his-fucking-ears up. Every time he’d punched his mother-in-law — the same cunt who’d tried bribing him to leave town the day before — it had crashed like a wave on a beach. Of course he hadn’t heard Sully coming up behind him. He wouldn’t have heard an army of Sullys on horseback.
“Where do you want to go, then?” Cora said.
Good question. Part of him thought Gert’s. Just slip into one of those dark booths along the back wall and start a tab. Drink one beer after another until the fucking cops thought to stop in and haul his ass off. Let Cora pick up the tab, or Gert himself. The fuck did he care? No tabs where he was headed. The problem was the cops would dope this out right quick. And there was another, too. Gert wasn’t what you’d call squeamish, but seeing Roy’s ear he might tell him to take a hike and not come back until he looked presentable, which at his shithole meant not bleeding freely. Or he might not let them run a tab; the prick had a sixth sense about that. Besides, holing up in some bar and waiting for the fucking cops to come collect him just didn’t sit right with Roy. He ought to at least try to make a run for it, right? He was going down hard for this one, no question. He’d be away for a long time, which meant he had a moral obligation to take full advantage of his last few hours of freedom. What he needed was some kind of a plan, but Sully, the fucker, had scrambled his brain. “Take me to that CVS out by the highway,” he told Cora.
“The Rexall’s closer,” she pointed out.
Fucking woman, Roy thought, yanking the rearview back again to see if his injuries could possibly be as bad as they’d appeared thirty seconds ago — and they were. “Will you just do like you’re fuckin’ told?”
“Why you bein’ so mean to me, Roy? I’m just trying to help is all. I’ll do anything you want. Just treat me nice, okay?”
He threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, Cora, okay. See how nice I’m treatin’ you? See how nice? So can we fuckin’ go now?”
He expected her to drive around the block, but instead, being a dipshit, she did a three-point turn in the middle of fucking Main Street and headed back where he’d just come from, right past Hattie’s, the very place he was trying to escape. A small crowd had gathered outside to watch the EMTs load his mother-in-law on board. A uniformed piece of shit was trying to explain to Janey why she couldn’t ride in the back with her mother, but being a total cunt she just shoved him aside and climbed in anyway. Then he spotted Sully, half a head taller than the other assholes, and the sight of him gave Roy something like an idea, though it was gone again almost before it arrived. Never mind. Roy knew that once something occurred to him it wouldn’t take long to reoccur, and right now he had more pressing concerns, like the cop car speeding toward them. He slumped down in his seat as it screeched to a rocking halt at the curb.
Cora, if you could believe it, had actually slowed down and put on her left-turn signal. “The Rexall’s right here,” she explained. Like he’d fucking forgot where the Rexall was, or like he hadn’t just fucking told her to go to the CVS.
“No, goddamn it—”
“Stop yellin’ at me, Roy,” she said, though she turned her blinker off and pulled back into the right lane. “I’m just sayin’ all them stores carry the same shit and this one’s right here.”
“Did you happen to see that fuckin’ ambulance back there, Cora? That cop car?” he said, peering to look out the back window. “Me slidin’ down in my seat here? What’s all that fuckin’ shit tell you?”
Just that quickly the crying kicked in. “Did you do something bad, Roy? They gonna make you go back to prison?”
“Not if you shut the fuck up and drive, they won’t.”
“I gonna get in trouble for helpin’ you?”
“Fuck no, Cora.”
“ ’Cause they took my little boy on account of they said I’m unfit and I’m trying to get him back, so—”
“Just fuckin’ listen to me, girl. You ain’t gonna get in no trouble. The cops question you, just say all you did was give me a fuckin’ ride. Tell ’em you’re just a dumb cunt and didn’t know no better. Don’t worry, they’ll believe you.”
Cora began to cry silently, and neither spoke again until she pulled in to the CVS lot, where Roy once again scrunched down in his seat.
When she killed the engine and wiped her tears on her sleeve, he said, “Lemme see that hat a minute.”
“What for?” she said, handing over her Mets cap.
“Never mind what for. Maybe I’m a big fuckin’ baseball fan, okay?” Trying it on, he flinched when the sweatband came in contact with his demolished ear.
“You’re gettin’ blood all over it,” she said, wincing.
He adjusted the plastic strap. “Jesus, Cora. What do you need with such a big head, anyway? There ain’t a fuckin’ thing in it.”
She giggled, thinking this was a joke. “Just ’cause you got a little peanut head,” she said. “Just ’cause it’s full of shit.”
This, Roy thought as his hand shot out, its heel connecting flush with the side of Cora’s head, is the wrong fucking day to be talking trash. Her temple bounced back off the driver’s-side window.
“Ow, Roy,” she said, tearing up again. “That hurt. All I was doing was havin’ a little fun. Can’t you take a joke?”
He considered answering by hitting her again, then remembered he needed her help. “Look at me, Cora, and tell me I’m in the fuckin’ mood to joke with you.”
“You got me all mixed up, Roy. I don’t know what you want me to do.”
“Well, shut the fuck up a minute, and I’ll tell you again. Can you do that?” When, acting on his instruction, she didn’t respond, he said, “Well, can you?”
“Yes, Roy, I can. It’s what I’m doin’, okay?”
“All right, then. First thing you need to get is one of them butterfly clamps for my ear. You know the ones I’m talkin’ about? They’ll be over with the medical supplies. Band-Aids and shit. You understand?”