Right as Rain

'I don't drink.'

'Have one or two to be polite, but don't go gettin' drunk. What I'm gonna do is, I'm gonna excuse myself, pay a visit to that little junkie. I'll take care of her, then come back to the barn.'

'You think that's a good idea?'

'Fuck you mean by that?'

'Maybe you better take care of the girl after. I mean, the sound of a gunshot in that house is gonna travel back to the barn.'

'I'll take care of the sound.'

'You got a suppressor or somethin'?'

'You got a suppressor or somethin'?' said Delgado, imitating Franklin's shaky voice and issuing a short laugh. 'Shit, Eugene, I don't know who in the fuck was ever stupid enough to give you a badge. I don't need no god-damn suppressor, man. I'll put a pillow over her face and shoot her through that.'

Delgado kicked up the wiper speed. The intensity of the rain had increased.

'Now,' said Delgado. 'When I come back in the barn, and I mean as soon as I come back in, I'm gonna walk straight up to Ray and do him quick. You do his father the same way, hear? I don't want to have to worry about you backin' me up.'

'You don't have to worry,' said Franklin.

'There's our exit,' said Delgado, pushing up on the turn signal bar. 'Grab my cell phone out the glove box, man. Call that little cross-eyed white boy, tell him we're on our way in.'

Ray Boone broke open a spansule of meth and dumped its contents onto a Budweiser mirror he had pulled off the wall. He used a razor blade to cut out two lines and snorted up the blue-speckled, coarse powder. He threw his head back and felt the familiar numbness back in his throat. He swigged from a can of beer until it was empty and tossed the can into the trash, wiping blood off his lip that had dripped down from his nose.

'Phone's ringin', Daddy.'

'I hear it,' said Earl. He had a cigarette in one hand and was playing electronic poker with the other.

'That's them.'

'Then answer it, Critter.'

Ray lifted his cell phone off the green felt table where he sat. He spoke to one of Coleman's men briefly, then pushed the 'end' button on the phone.

'They're down the road,' said Ray.

Earl nodded but did not reply.

Ray had everything he needed on his person. His Beretta 92F was loaded and holstered on his back, in the waistband of his jeans. He had a vial of crystal meth spansules in one of his coat pockets and a hardpack of Marlboro Reds in the other. As for the heroin, he had brought the rest of it out earlier and placed the bags behind the bar.

Ray had brought the heroin out because he didn't want to go back in that room more than one time tonight; it was beginning to smell somethin' awful back there. His daddy had been right, and knowing that made Ray even more disturbed than he already had been since Edna up and left him. The weather had warmed unexpectedly, and those dead greasers down in the tunnel were gettin' ripe.

Earl picked up his six-pack cooler full of Busch, patting his coat pockets to check that he had brought his cigarettes and his.38. He and Ray left the barn. Out in the yard, Earl flicked his cigarette toward the woods and said, 'I'll be back. Need to check on the girl.'

Ray knew that his father was going in the house to give that colored junkie a bag of love, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He wasn't even mad at his father for pushing him down the day before. He had problems of his own that were weighing on his mind.

Ray went to the edge of the woods and looked into its darkness, letting the rain hit his face. Where the fuck was Edna? All right, so she'd gone into his stash and smoked it up, and now she was scared. But a day had passed, and he'd heard not one thing from her. He'd called that big-haired, smart-as-a-stump girlfriend of hers, Jo-hanna, and she claimed to not know where Edna was either. Lyin'-ass bitch, she had to know where Edna was, the two of them was asshole buddies goin' way back to grade school. That Jo-hanna, she'd even acted suspicious when he called, like he'd done somethin' to Edna his own self. Shit, he'd never hurt Edna. Course, he'd have to slap her around a little when she did come back, but that was something else.

'You're gettin' wet, Critter,' said Earl, standing behind Ray. 'Gonna mess up the leather on them boots of yours, standing out in this rain.'

'Just thinkin' on something, Daddy,' said Ray.

'I know what you're thinkin' on. We get through tonight, you can buy a whole bunch of heifers, you want to, take your mind off that

girl.'

'I guess you're right. C'mon, let's go pick up those boys.'

They walked to the car. Earl said, 'Startin' to smell back in the barn.'

'I'll bury 'em tomorrow,' said Ray.

'Told you that warm weather was comin' in.'

What with Edna, and his daddy always tellin' him what to do, and the speed rushing through his blood, Ray had a mind to bite clear through his own tongue.

'You all set?' said Strange, standing in Quinn's bedroom, nodding at the day pack in Quinn's hand.

'Yeah,' said Quinn. 'How about you?'

'Spent the day with my mother. Doctors say she's shuttin' herself down. She's just kinda layin' in her bed, looking out her window. Wanted to be with her, just the same.'

'I worked at the bookstore myself. Kept me busy, so I didn't have to think about things too much.'

'How's Lewis doin'? He keepin' his hand away from it?'

Strange and Quinn chuckled, then stared at each other without speaking. Strange handed Quinn a pair of thin black gloves.

'Wear these when we get out there. They'll warm you some, and they're thin enough, you can pick up a dime with 'em on.'

'Thanks.' Quinn dropped the gloves into his pack.

Strange looked toward Quinn's bedroom window. 'Rainin' like a motherfucker out there. Gonna be messy, but the rain'll cover a lot of noise.'

'And the clouds will cover our sight lines, goin' through those woods.'

'My NVDs will get us through those woods.'

'You and your gadgets,' said Quinn. He looked at Strange's belt line, where his beeper, the Leatherman, the Buck knife, and the case holding his cell were hung.

'Speaking of which,' said Strange, 'put this on.' He took his beeper off his hip and handed it to Quinn. 'We'll take two cars in case we don't leave at the same time.'

Quinn nodded. 'Otherwise I'll meet you at that No Trespassing sign on the second curve.'

'Okay, but if we get separated or somethin'-'

'I'll see you,' said Quinn, 'back in D.C.'

32

Ray Boone went behind the bar and found the bottle of Jack where he'd left it, by the stainless steel sink next to the ice chest. His Daddy's Colt was where it always was, hung on two nails, the barrel resting on one and the trigger guard on the other, driven into the wood over the sink. Ray put the bottle of Jack on the bar, took a glass down from the rack behind him, and filled the glass near to its lip.

'You boys want a taste?' he said, shouting over the George Jones coming from the Wurlitzer.

Ray watched the funny-lookin' coon with the buck teeth, sitting glumly with a beer can in his hand at the felt-covered card table, shake his head. The other rughead, the big ugly one with the fancy running suit, didn't even acknowledge the question. He was standing in the middle of the room, rolling his head on his stack of shoulders like he was trying to work something out of his fat neck. A cigar was clenched between his teeth.

'How about you, Daddy?' said Ray.

'I'll have a little,' said Earl. He was at the jukebox, punching in numbers and drinking from a can of Busch beer.

Ray poured one for his father. He almost laughed, thinking of him and his daddy and their guests, all of them still wearing their coats in the heated barn. Ray knew, and each and every one of them knew, that they all were carrying guns. It was part of the game. Ray and Earl wanted out, and with all this money they were makin', they really didn't need to be doing this anymore. But when Ray thought about it, he had to admit he would miss this part, the drinking with the customers, the tension, the guns… the game.