“I know that’s what you wanted, Bearon,” Brent says as he pushes his empty mug toward Evan, who’s pouring beer from the pitcher, and watches as his mug is refilled.
“Yet you pulled him aside to tell him,” Bearon growls.
“Yeah, it’s what you wanted, but you never consulted any of us,” Brent responds after a long draft of his fresh beer. “Say it is Hank Hazen Senior she’s looking for, why do you give a shit? She finds out he’s dead, goes home, end of problem.”
You don’t know shit, Bearon thinks.
“Fuck, Bearon, if I didn’t tell him, someone else would. I heard she’s been asking all over town,” Brent continues, giving him a sideways glance. “You don’t think she’ll go into Dot’s and ask there? If she gets a hold of Franny, she’ll tell Danielson’s wife, no doubt about that. He might as well hear it from me. He’s a pretty big player around here, if you ain’t noticed. Someone we’re better off having on our side.”
“You forget he blew up the old lodge?”
“Propane leak, I heard.”
“That’s what I heard, too,” the lawyer says, giving his heavy five o’clock shadow a scratch. “And about that woman, Kathy, I think she said her name was—”
“You talked to her?” Bearon asks.
“Not me, but some of my gals did. She came into the office. They gave her the link to the Community News, you know there’s a bunch of info in their archives, maybe even that old phone book of town residents. Remember that?”
“Oh yeah,” Preacher says, “used to be able to pick up a copy at the Community Center. Haven’t seen that for a while.”
“Me neither. Anyhow, I heard them tell her about Hank at the bowling alley, and off she went.” He takes a draft of his beer, and continues: “We all know you blame Danielson for blowing up the old lodge, but it’s in the past. Forget about it. If you can’t forget about it, at least admit it turned out good for you, and let’s get on with whatever it was you called us out for. I need to get going.”
With a sharp intake of breath, Bearon struggles not to respond. It turned out good for him? None of these guys knows shit. But that’s the way it has to be.
After a moment, he says, “yeah, Kevin, you worried your wife will make you sleep in the guest room again if you’re ten minutes late? Oh, now I remember. She’s got your balls because it’s her family money.”
“Jesus, Bear!” Evan snaps.
Bearon gives Evan a sharp look. For a moment, the only sounds in the room are Preacher’s lip-smacking and the murmur of conversation from the pub below. Then Bearon exhales and says, “This deal is going to make us so rich Kevin’s wife’s money will look like chump change. Keep that in mind.” He drums the fingers of his good hand on the table and thinks for a second about what to say that would put Kevin in his place. But the moment has passed.
He continues: “anyhow, let’s move on so we can get outta here. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to, neither. You’ll all be happy to know this is our last meeting in this room. Next time we meet, it’ll be in the board room at the Lodge.”
“Didn’t know the boardroom was finished,” Brent says.
“Yeah, or at least it will be before our next meeting. But the big news is, we have a ceremony to organize.”
“Ceremony? Have the Illustrious Leaders told you when they’re coming?” Preacher asks.
“Yeah, this week-end.”
“What? I can’t be ready by then! And besides, we don’t have an Acolyte. We’ll have to tell them to postpone it.”
“I know it’s short notice but they’ve been anxious to see the Lodge so they jumped on the chance when something else fell through and their weekend opened up. They’re bringing their Acolyte, and she’s a hottie! Wait’ll you get a load of her! But more important, this is our first full communion. I thought they sent you the sermon, Preacher, so what’s the problem?” Bearon asks.
“Yeah, they emailed it to me. Some nonsense from the Book of Esther, King Ashermuckky sent for his wife when his heart was merry with wine and when she told him to pound sand, he tossed her out and took up with Esther. That’s all I remember. I haven’t figured out how to say his name, forget memorizing the whole passage! No way I can learn it by this week-end! I’ll hafta read it.”
“Jesus! You’re gonna have to up your game. Bad enough we don’t have many members for this first Ceremony, and you’re gonna read your sermon?”
“No one told me I was going to have to give it so soon. It’s not enough time.”
“No one really listens anyway, at least not at a Ceremony, so if he reads it, no big deal,” Evan intercedes. “As for numbers, I told them how it is, not all of the Pastor’s old congregation has stayed with us, so it’s a work in progress. As long as you can show the Pillerton guys you’re growing, you’ll be okay. Think about Pillerton! For years—decades really—they only had a couple dozen. Three Elders for that tiny congregation! They had a solid bank account thanks to their real estate and mortgages or it wouldn’t have worked. Dark River doesn’t have that, of course.”
“No, not yet we don’t, but meanwhile we got product that doesn’t take decades to make a guy rich,” Bearon points out.
“Of course,” Evan agrees. “I didn’t mean to dis what you got going on here, and I think they’ll be pleased with progress to date, but you gotta do something to attract new members. Preach, get the Pillerton guys to send you all their sermons and start blasting out some hellfire and brimstone! Maybe we should think about advertising, too. Your picture on a bus stop bench or something. But the services are important for attracting ordinary members and for the cover story. If you can’t up your game, Dark River Chapter will have to recruit someone else or maybe parachute someone from the parent company in, and Preacher goes back to being good old Wally who owns the motels.”
“What d’you think I been doing, Evan, sermonizing every fuckin’ Sunday to that bunch of old biddies in the meeting room at Riverview? The dregs left over from the old congregation? Not my fault no one takes us serious. We wanna make something more of this, we need a better venue.”
“I don’t imagine you object to all of them pouring into your restaurant for Sunday brunch, though,” Bearon says.
“Wally’s right,” Kevin contributes. “All we need is a bag full of money.”
“Don’t have to spend a bundle, Kevin. We could get a big old house, the kind that would be designated heritage status if they have such a thing in Dogpatch,” Evan says, “something that really only needs a little tiddling up. We used an old house in Pillerton for years.”
“One of my clients who passed away a couple weeks ago lived down at the end of River Street,” Kevin tells them. “I haven’t been in the house but I drove by. Looks a little run down but it’s a big Victorian two-storey. Big lot. Nice, private riverfront property. One of the nicer old houses in Dogpatch.” He gives Evan a hard look.
“Other than the Al Capone Tunnels being protected, I don’t remember any property being designated heritage in Pillerton,” Bearon says. “I don’t know that it’s all that much better than Dark River.”
“No disrespect intended,” Evan says with a shrug, then turns to Kevin. “Who inherited it?”
“Her son. He lives in Victoria.”
“So, would he move here? Keep it as a rental?”
“He doesn’t want it. Asked me about realtors.”
“We should take a look at it,” Bearon says. “If it’ll work, make him an offer before a realtor gets involved.”
“Lousy time to be laying out cash, though,” Brent says.
“Gotta spend money to make money, right Evan?” Preacher opines. “You’d give us a mortgage on it, wouldn’t you, Evan?”
“I, uhh, well, sure, I could run it by the Big Guys if that’s what you want, but you won’t need a mortgage,” Evan responds. “There’s a shipment going out in a couple days, remember? We’re gonna have bucks to wash, so this comes along at a good time.”
“Get som
eone on the son in Victoria,” Bearon says. “Check him out. See if we can do something with him. Is there a way we can get to him? Loan him some money with the house as collateral? Some weakness he might have? Gambling? Coke? Pussy? You get on that would you, Kevin?”
“I’ll get on it,” Kevin agrees.
Bearon tips his beer for a good long draft, then wipes his lip with his hand, leans forward and says, “We’re gonna be the Big Guys now, boys. We’re gonna make what the old man cooked up look like Monopoly. The Children of Noah angle was only a means of providing the girls for his gentlemen’s club. We’re going to be bigger than he ever dreamed.”
“Ahh! The girls,” Preacher sighs. “They’re not girls, though. They’re a bunch of fat old broads. Not sure I can get it up for them.”
“I’d of thought being married to Georgia or whatever her name is, you’d of figured out a way,” Bearon says. “Take your Viagra and pull the hoods up over their faces. You’ll do fine.”
“Yeah, that’d be a lot like fuckin’ Georgia.”
“There’s some nice pussy in the congregation too. At least one new member. She’s thirty something but she’s still at least a seven. You all seen her, works for you, Preacher,” Brent says, with a lift of his chin in Preacher’s direction.
“Yeah, at the Riverview. Reardon’s fuckin’ her.”
“I’m nervous, though,” Brent tells them. “Can we really fly under the radar? The gentlemen’s club is one thing. Even the drugs. It’s the other…”
“Getting cold feet?” Bearon asks with a scowl.
“I’m just sayin. We have to be careful.”
“We are careful. We’re upstanding businessmen. Pillars of the community. The Lodge is going to be a big boost to the local economy. Dark River loves us.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Kevin says. “Clients of mine talk. Lots of ‘em are pissed none of the construction jobs went to locals, that you didn’t hire any trades from around here. People are asking why not. And then there’s the fact you have to be a member to even get in the gate.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard there’s some bitchin’ about that,” Bearon says. “I’ve been thinking, maybe we open to the public one week-end a month or something. Just so all the nosey bastards can come and take a look. Have a nice dinner. Nothing to see here, folks, kinda thing. If we charged enough, they wouldn’t wanna come back a second time.”
“Maybe they will, though,” Evan says. “Not a bad thing. Another revenue stream never hurts.”
“We got another problem,” Preacher says. “That crazy broad runnin’ around tellin’ everyone Heather’s House is kidnapping women. Stokin’ fears about another serial killer. I hear whispers about the new Lodge bein’ just like the old Lodge.”
“What?” Bearon hisses.
“Yeah. Fuckin’ cop actually looked into it, snoopin’ around the hotels because we have the linen service. You know, not for linens, we do our own, but for the entrance mats and so on. He followed the truck along its whole delivery route, watchin’ and askin’ everyone at every stop. Just lucky the driver twigged to it, cut his route short and only delivered legit stuff. And of course, didn’t pick up the cargo.”
“Don’t tell me they’re still at the Dogwood house?”
“Hell no!” Brent chimes in. “The driver came and killed some time here. At closing time, he went and picked ‘em up. Made sure he wasn’t followed.”
“That fuckin Frenchie cop! Ain’t he got nuthin’ better to do? Dunno why they didn’t send him somewhere. He’s been here longer than anyone else. Instead they move our guy out and promote him!” Bearon scowls. “I wonder what made him suspicious about the truck, though.”
“Because that’s the truck that picks up Heather’s House’s laundry. They bundle them away with the sheets, according to the crazy woman. The cop told the driver she claimed to have heard voices coming from inside. Yellin’ for help. He asked the girls working at the desk if we ever noticed anything like that. Asked to talk to the housekeeping staff and even wanted to see inside the truck.”
“Jesus! He look inside?”
“Yeah. Driver had to let him have a look. Opened the back door for him. He didn’t climb in. No live cargo anyway so it was a small risk.”
Bearon pinches the bridge of his nose, exhales loudly. “He didn’t notice the box being shorter inside than out?”
“No.”
“Jesus H. fuckin’ Christ!”
“Maybe we should switch trucks. Use the shredding truck instead,” Preacher suggests.
“For chrissakes, Preach, how would that work? It’s for long hauls. Nobody needs shredding every week!”
“I guess,” Preacher shrugs and drains his beer.
“We better beef up the soundproofing on the linen van. I’ll tell Clint to get it done.” Bearon leans back in his chair, eyes closed for a moment, wishing he could take the balaclava off because he’s got an itch and it’s impossible to scratch it. All he can do is put it out of his mind. He says, “for a while at least, no more girls from Heather’s.”
“Jake won’t like that,” Brent points out. “It’ll cut into his earnings big time.”
“It’s the new reality. If he doesn’t like it, he can quit. You really think he’ll walk? He’s still got a captive customer base for the other stuff there without hardly lifting a finger.”
“Not a good idea to take ‘em from around here anyway,” Kevin says. “This town is too small.”
“They’re low hanging fruit, like hitchhikers and runaways. At loose ends when they leave Heather’s,” Bearon opines. “But you’re right. This town is too small. We all agree, then? No more from Heather’s. Or anywhere around here?”
Everyone voices agreement. Bearon continues, “people will quit bitchin’ about not being able to have dinner or go to the Grotto at the Lodge without a membership if we let ‘em in once in a while. Or that they didn’t get work when it was being built now that we’re hiring permanent employees.”
“Speaking of employees, who’ve we got at the mill now that Barney’s gone?” Kevin asks.
“No one, but I got feelers out,” Brent tells them. “Got the word out with the mill guys that come in here. Not much interest so far. It ain’t as attractive as before the fuckin’ government legalized pot.”
“People could always get their weed lots of places. We’ll be cheaper than the legal stuff. Better hours too. And the government stores won’t have the rest of the stuff we supply,” Preacher reminds them.
“Yeah. Might take some time but there’s bound to be someone workin’ at the mill that would like a little sideline. And a new motor home.”
“Maybe we don’t need someone at the mill. Just get a freelancer,” Bearon suggests, “someone who can intercept the fallers when they come to town from camp with their pay burnin’ a hole in their pockets. Better to have someone here, Brent. Ask yourself, where do guys go as soon as they’re out of camp? The Fisherman’s and Dot’s. Not the mill. Don’t need the expense of another motorhome.”
“I don’t want this place connected to it.”
“If he was a freelancer, no connection to this place. He gets busted, you know nuthin’ about nuthin’.”
“Makes sense, Brent,” Kevin opines.
“I guess,” Brent says with a shrug. “As for Barney, he put in a lot of years for us. Worked for the old boss long before you came to town.” Brent takes a swig of his beer to wash down a mouthful of tortilla chips before continuing, “plus, that motorhome ain’t brand new. I got a good deal. And as it turned out, with the little twat you’re so worried about showin’ up now, it’s good timing, him headin’ south. He’s the only guy still around who would remember Hank from camp.”
“He wouldn’t of been stupid enough to yap,” Preacher says.
“Who knows? Might of thought there was no reason not to tell her.” Brent says. “Who wouldn’t wanna spend some time with a pretty little thing like her? Impressin’ her with all he knows about the Hanks.�
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“Pretty, huh?” Kevin says.
“Yeah, she’d be about the right size for you,” Brent tells him, “but since you don’t like ‘em once they’ve got hair on their pussy I doubt she’d even give you a chubby.”
“Speaking of chubbies, I was wondering, are you sure the gals, you know, the True Believers, will really fuck everyone at the Ceremony?” Preacher chimes in. He’s finishing his nachos and talks around the last mouthful, spewing crumbs as he peels melted cheese off the plate and licks his fingers. Kevin pushes his barely-touched plate over to him. He accepts it with a grunt and a nod.
“I’m sure,” Evan replies.
“How do you know for sure, though?”
“How d’ya think? I’ve been to Ceremonies.”
Bearon says, “I been to Ceremonies in Pillerton, too. I get a chubby thinking about that! The Illustrious Leaders, you, Preacher, and you, Brent—or should I say, Elder Martin? Elder Hayward?—put on the red robe and they’ll be falling over each other to fuck you.”
“What about me?” Kevin asks.
“You’re Inner Circle, so of course, you too. It’s their ticket to salvation.”
“You think any of them are shaved?” Kevin asks.
“I guess we’ll find out,” Bearon replies.
Brent continues. “But the others, guys who are just here for a holiday. Why would they fuck them?”
“They fuck whoever we want them to or they don’t fuck us. Believe me, the last thing they want is to be cut off. They’d lose their communion rights. But that’s off in the future. For right now, we fly in call girls, like before.”
He sits back, moves his plate closer and works a chip loaded with melted cheese and jalapeno out of the jumble. He puts it in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. “Don’t worry, you’ll get all the pussy you want and once our membership list starts growing, we’ll be well on our way to becoming millionaires, besides.”
“Thought you already were.” Preacher has polished off Kevin’s nachos, takes a long draft of beer and slams the empty mug down. He looks at Brent and asks, “are we going to get more of this?”
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