“Sunset.”
“Now that’s a snapper of a name. That a nickname?”
“She’s got red hair. I don’t know her real name.”
“Ain’t nothing nicer than to peel one down and see that red hair fanned out between her legs. Shakes her hips, it’s like a red flag waving at a bull. But that’s not our concern here, is it? Now, we got a bump in the road and you’ve run us over it. Know what happens when you hit a bump, Rooster?”
Rooster shook his head.
“A bump can knock shit out of the back of your wagon. Knock shit all over the goddamn place. Hear me, now?”
Rooster nodded.
McBride reached under his ugly wig and scratched his head.
“Shit gets knocked out, then I got to go in and do more work than needs to be done, and mind you, I don’t dislike the work, but I don’t like to undo what don’t need undoing or fix what shouldn’t have to be fixed. You following me here, Rooster?”
“Yes, sir.”
McBride sucked deeply on his cigar and let the smoke come out of his nose. “Can we maybe give this bitch some money for the maps? She go for that?”
“I don’t think so. She seems pretty sure of herself, like maybe she wants to do some good.”
“A do-gooder. They can be trouble. Like Christians or teetotalers, they can latch on to a thing like a goddamn bulldog and not let go, even if it ain’t good for them. I hate do-gooders. Give me a lawman or a politician any day, and I can work with them. Even a preacher can be worked around, but the true Christian or do-gooder, they’re hard to figure.”
“Maybe Hillbilly will come around,” Rooster said. “He’s a deputy constable. He knows Sunset and what she knows. Shake some money at him, he might come around and tell us something you want to know, like where the map is.”
“I don’t know from Hillbilly or what he knows or what he’ll do. You’re trying to pass your job to someone else, Rooster. I don’t like that.”
“No, sir.”
“This goes South, me and Henry, we could lose a lot of oil money. Do some prison time I don’t want to do. I ain’t never done time and I’ve done plenty things might have given it to me. I don’t intend to take a dose of bad time now. What you’re gonna do, Rooster, is you’re gonna go see this woman. Say you got curious, went to look at the records, saw they didn’t match, think someone is trying to cheat that nigger… What’s his name?”
“Zendo.”
“Zorro out of his land.”
“Zendo.”
“Tell her that. Appeal to that do-gooder nature. She’ll probably turn around and give you the maps, thinking you’re gonna take care of things. She doesn’t give you the maps, then we got a problem. There’s lots of people you can have a problem with, Rooster, and it’ll work out. You don’t want no problem with me. Comprende?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t mind a little graft, a little reach out, but I like a man knows his part. Not like Pete, who wanted to take me and Henry big. That I don’t like. You wouldn’t do that, try that, would you, Rooster?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Now we’re done. Except for a little last something.”
McBride rose, his robe flopping open. Rooster looked at his coffee cup on the table. McBride went into the other room and came back promptly. He had a fistful of bills in his hand. He came over and stood by Rooster. He was so close, his penis was almost rubbing Rooster’s elbow. He said, “Hold out your hand, Rooster.”
Rooster turned in the chair, held out his hand and McBride put a hundred-dollar bill in it. He put a second hundred. Then a third. He folded up the other four and put them in the pocket of his robe. “I’m paying you for coming to me like you’re supposed to. But I’m not giving you all I would have given you, because you screwed up, Rooster. Get the maps, amigo.”
McBride closed Rooster’s hand up with the bills in it, squeezed so hard Rooster tumbled out of the chair and rose up on his knees. McBride’s penis hung in his face.
“Kiss it, Rooster.”
“No.”
“Sure. You kiss it.”
McBride squeezed Rooster’s hand harder and there was a cracking sound. Rooster leaned forward and kissed the head of McBride’s penis.
McBride let go, stepped back. Rooster, red as flame, stood up.
“Weren’t no call for that,” Rooster said. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Hell, Rooster, kissing my dick just sweetened up your day.”
When Rooster was gone, McBride called out to the blonde. She came in and he took her to the couch. When he was finished, she said, “I don’t know why I bother to put anything on.”
“I didn’t ask you to dress,” McBride said. “You go on, now. Go home.”
“I didn’t mean to make you mad. It’s just Two is making me nervous.”
“He’s up?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to stay back there with him. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“You didn’t make me mad, I’m just sick of you. Go on now while I’m in the right mood about it.”
She went in the other room and put on her clothes. When she came out, McBride was stretched out on the couch.
She looked at him but didn’t speak.
When she was gone, he got up, locked the door behind her, had some coffee, fastened up his robe, went to the kitchen. He had just eaten, but he wanted to cook, and he figured he cooked what he wanted the right way, it would take a while. He put on his apron. It was a big one with short frilly sleeves and a bit of lace around the bottom and on the sides. He got down some pans and lit the kerosene stove and put a pot of water on to boil for spaghetti. He took a clove of garlic, tore it apart in his hands, placed the pieces on a cutting board, used a mallet to smash it. He did the job so well none of the garlic got away from him, but it made his eyes water.
He heard a noise, turned. In the doorway, standing in the shadows, was Two, wearing his long black Prince Albert coat. Way it fell around him, with the split tails, it made him look like a giant beetle, all black and thick and silent, with blazing green eyes. A nigger with those eyes and that Prince Albert coat. It didn’t seem right, but there he was.
McBride said, “I’m gonna have some food cooking. It’ll take a while, but I can make extra. You want I should fix you some?”
“We are not hungry,” said Two, and he went out.
26
Night before all the business with Rooster and McBride, Sunset drove home high on Hillbilly’s loving. She dropped Hillbilly at the campsite where he was staying, which was about two miles down the road from her tent. It was a simple place that he had built of sticks and such, had draped old shirts over to make a kind of hut. When she asked him where he got the shirts, he said Clyde had given them to him. When she asked him how they were getting along, he changed the subject. She parted from him with what she thought was the softest, sweetest kiss she had ever tasted.
She wanted to take Hillbilly home with her, but feared Marilyn might arrive the next morning with Karen, and that wouldn’t look too good, especially not with Karen pining for Hillbilly like a bitch dog in heat. Still, she thought maybe they could look into someplace better for him to stay. It would be nice if he had his own place and she could go there.
When she arrived home, Ben came out to meet her. She saw Clyde’s truck was parked by the big oak. She could see a boot on the dashboard. She opened the trunk, gathered up the box with the maps and things in it, went over to the truck. The windows were down, so she leaned in on the passenger’s side. Clyde was stretched out, that one foot on the dash. There was enough moonlight so she could see his face, and with his hair hanging in it, his eyes closed, snoring softly, he reminded her of a big boy. He really was sweet-looking, handsome really, just rough around the edges.