by Hank Early
I’d known love once before, as a teenager, but that had been a lifetime ago and had ended badly. Suffice to say, it soured me quite a bit on relationships, and I spent most of my adult life avoiding them in favor of strictly physical encounters, the more frequent and less familiar, the better.
Maybe that’s why I was in lying in bed this next morning with Mary, watching her sleep and thinking about how goddamn lucky I was to be with her. And maybe that was why I was so pissed off when I heard the truck approaching.
I lived on top of a mountain, a peaceful kind of place made even more peaceful by the bad roads that connected it to the rest of the world. You needed a sturdy truck with four-wheel drive to get here. What you didn’t need was a flashy, jacked-up piece of shit without a muffler.
Rufus said only assholes and kids drove jacked-up monster trucks without mufflers. I tended to agree.
The man approaching now was of the asshole variety, though his emotional IQ was still probably around that of an adolescent.
“What? Mary said, her eyes blinking open. They were the best eyes I’d ever seen, big and brown and luxurious. Looking into them was like slipping into a warm, comfortable bath.
“Just stay in bed,” I said. “I’ll try to make this quick.”
“What’s going on?” She reached for my arm and pulled me back into bed. I kissed her but didn’t linger. This particular visitor had a way of killing the mood.
“Just stay here,” I said. “I promise to make this really quick.”
She sat up. “It’s Ronnie Thrash, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Why don’t you invite him in? I can make some breakfast.”
“Bad idea.”
“I think you’re too hard on him.”
I took a deep breath. Mary didn’t really know Ronnie like I did. But it was more than that. The truth was, Ronnie Thrash and I were bound together by a shared secret.
A secret not even Mary knew about.
“Just give me a minute. And don’t come out. I don’t want you around that asshole.”
She shot me a look, and I knew she was disappointed in me. Too bad. I knew Ronnie and she didn’t. Sometimes, Mary’s ability to see the good in people infuriated me.
I decided to let it go and headed to the front door, where Goose stood, growling at the sound of the truck as it downshifted out in the yard.
“It’s just the usual asshole,” I said. Goose whined and wagged his tail at my voice. I opened the front door and let him rush out barking. I hoped he might light into Ronnie. I’d been hoping that for some time now, but much to my chagrin, Ronnie seemed to have a way with Goose. Once he killed the monstrous sound from his truck’s engine and jumped out of the cab, Goose started wagging his tail. Ronnie knelt and let the big dog lick his face. When he stood up, he was grinning.
There are two things you could count on from Ronnie, come hell or high water: he’d be wearing that shit-eating grin no matter what, and he never came into any interaction without knowing where all the buttons were and just when to push them. He was like a gnat at dusk that won’t stop chewing on your skin, or a hangnail you can’t ever get rid of because it cut too deep.
He came strutting over like a damned banty rooster, wearing dark blue jeans and some huge, shit-kicking boots. He’d bought himself a new belt buckle too. It was saucer-sized and read “Straight to Hell, Baby.” There was something on his face, just above his nose that was new. Some kind of tattoo.
“Like it?” he said, gesturing at the black markings with his thumb. “It’s an upside-down cross, on account of this new piece of ass I’m smashing. She’s got a fetish for demons and shit.” He shrugged. “It ain’t real. Just temporary. I figure, why get a real one when me and her will be splits in a week or two anyway?” He patted his shirt pocket and pulled out a nearly empty package of Marlboro Reds. He took the last cigarette out and stuck it in his mouth, then patted his blue jeans. “Shit. Left my lighter at the house. You got a match or something?”
I ignored him. It was my first line of defense against his bullshit. Ignore as long as I could in order to keep the anger at bay. It wouldn’t last.
“Well, I guess that’s a no.”
“Why are you here?”
“Shit, Earl. I’m here because you and me are friends. I don’t want to get carried away none, but I’d go as far as to say you’re my BFF. Now, it won’t hurt me none if you say I’m not your BFF too. Just please tell me it’s not that old blind vampire. Now that will hurt.”
“We’re not friends, and you know that. Please state your business and then get off my property.”
“Your property?” He laughed. “Is that what you’re calling it now? Jesus, you and the little black deputy about to get hitched? Be careful, Earl, I hear marriage can ruin a good sex life quick.”
Second line of defense against his bullshit: get angry.
“I’m going to ask you to get the hell out of here before I call the sheriff.”
He looked at Mary’s Atlanta PD Blazer parked near his truck. “Looks like the po-po is already here.”
“I don’t want her anywhere around you.”
He nodded. “Cuz I’m vile and reprehensible, right, Earl?”
“You said it.”
“Well, that’s interesting considering what I helped you do a few months back.”
I stepped forward. “You aren’t supposed to bring that up.”
“Oh, indeed. I’m not supposed to bring that up. Whoops.” His smile fell away for just an instant. “You know I’ve been so good, Earl. Haven’t told a soul. I’d hate to let it slip.” The smile came back, and I wanted to punch him so much.
Third line: get violent.
Except that wasn’t what I wanted, was it? It was true—he had helped me. And since that time, he’d never asked for anything in return.
“I’m calling the sheriff,” I said, but my heart wasn’t in it.
“That’s funny.”
“What’s funny?”
“You calling the sheriff. You ain’t heard, have you?”
“Heard what?”
Ronnie stuck the unlit cigarette back in his mouth. “You sure you wouldn’t have a light?”
“Heard what?”
“I’ll bet you think the new sheriff is a breath of fucking fresh air compared to the old one, don’t you? No ties to your daddy’s church, no real ties to these mountains at all. Sounded pretty fucking good to me too. Sad truth is, Earl, he’s a real piece of work. Did you know he was busted for misuse of government funds at his old job up in Knoxville? Get this: he used it to buy drugs. Said his wife needed the pot because she had anxiety. They fired his ass, but lo and behold, here he is in Coulee County ’cause any old bastard will do here. Let me ask you something, Earl. What do you think they’d do to a man like me if I was caught buying pot with government funds? I’ll tell you what they’d do, my friend. They’d put me under the jail. You know they would.”
I just looked at him. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him he was right, even though I had to agree with his assessment.
“Doesn’t matter. He’ll still get you off my land.”
“Don’t it pain you just a little, Earl?”
“Don’t what pain me?”
“That the new sheriff ain’t no better than the old. That there ain’t much satisfaction in putting your faith in anything, is there, Earl? First God lets us down, then our daddies, and now the damned law. I tell you what, there ain’t but one man I trust in this great, big, wide world, and that man stands before me right now: the legendary Earl Marcus.” He clapped his hands slowly and dramatically and then stopped, seeming to remember the unlit cigarette. “Goddamn, I need a light. Let’s go inside. I know you got a match.”
“I’ve met him,” I said. “He’s a lot better than the last. If he made a mistake, that’s too bad, but I won’t hold it against him going forward.”
Ronnie nodded, still studying the unlit cigarette. “Too bad you don’t extend
that same charity to everybody, Earl.”
I was about to answer, when I heard a voice from behind me.
“Earl?”
Mary stood in the doorway, looking sleepy and beautiful. She wore one of my shirts and nothing else as far as I could tell.
“Hello,” Ronnie said. “Ain’t you a picture.”
“Can we invite you in for some breakfast?” she said.
“No,” I said. “We’re almost done here.”
“I could use some breakfast,” Ronnie said.
“Well, I think I could mix up some pancakes…” Mary said.
“Hell no,” I said, this time like I meant it.
Mary shot me a reproachful look.
“I’m sorry,” she said to Ronnie, “for Earl’s behavior.”
Ronnie nodded. “It’s okay. I know he’s stressed out by life and whatnot. I don’t take it personal.”
Mary gave me another look before going back inside the house.
“Be still my heart,” Ronnie said. “You are in over your fucking head, ain’t you? Beautiful and kind.”
“I’m going to ask you nice one more time to state your business,” I said. “After that, I ain’t calling the law and I ain’t talking no more.” I squeezed my fists together.
“Sure thing, Earl. It’s like this: I need your services.”
“My services?”
“Your skills.”
“You want to hire me?”
“Well, I was thinking more pro bono myself.”
“Pro bono? You can’t be serious.”
He shrugged and opened up his palms to the deep blue morning sky. “Funds are kind of low right now, Earl. I thought you and me were tight. I thought we were brothers, you know?”
“We’re not tight.”
He nodded and took the cigarette out of his mouth. He regarded it for a moment before dropping it into the grass. Goose sniffed at it and sneezed.
“That hurts, Earl. Especially because I know your real brother, and he ain’t much of a man. Running a church that tortured young girls and what not. But I reckon he’s good enough to still be your brother.”
“He’s blood. You … you ain’t nothing.”
His smile disappeared for a moment, and I knew I had wounded him.
“That’s how you see it, huh?”
“That’s how I see it.”
“Well, I see it different. According to my way, you and me got an unshakable bond.” The grin came back, just around the corners of his mouth, just enough so that I couldn’t miss his delight. “I mean when it was time to bury your daddy, you didn’t come to nobody else, now did you?”
I felt a wave of anger inching up out of me, building slow and powerful.
“I mean, I’ll bet that cute little sex machine that’s waiting inside don’t even know how you knocked your daddy off that cliff, how he was all ablaze as he fell. Damn, many’s a time I’ve reflected on how I wish I could have been there to see that spectacular fall. Like Satan himself falling from heaven, I’ll bet.” Now the grin was a full-fledged smile, and larger than ever. He was positively beaming.
The only thing that stopped me from hitting him was the way Goose was looking at me. He was sitting up, ears alert, body tense, and there was something in his eyes. I thought it might have been fear. I unclenched my fists and stepped back. I hadn’t realized how close I’d gotten to Ronnie, how I was already within easy striking distance.
I took a deep breath. Goose wagged his tail, a tentative thump, as if he was encouraging me to take it easy.
“It’ll have to wait until this afternoon, when Mary’s gone.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your personal time, Earl.”
“Tell me what you need,” I said, and hated myself and the words even as I said them.
* * *
It was true that I’d killed my father, that I’d knocked him off a mountain, or rather, I’d knocked him out of a mountain. And it was also true that Ronnie was the only one who knew about it. He’d helped me bury my father’s body. It wasn’t one of my prouder moments.
When I went back into the house after watching Ronnie’s jacked-up truck head down the mountain, Mary was sitting on the couch, fully dressed.
“That man ruins everything,” I said.
She smiled. “What did he want?”
“He said he needed to hire me.”
“For what?”
“He was a little unspecific about that. Said he needed an escort.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Right. He promised me that he wasn’t doing anything criminal.”
“You believe him?”
“No. But he seems to think we’re friends. Maybe if I do this for him, he’ll leave me alone for a while.” I wasn’t about to mention the real reason I was doing it: because part of me believed I did owe him something for the help he’d given me.
“Well, as long as it’s legal, I’m glad you’re helping him.”
“Why are you so forgiving of him?”
She shrugged. “I know where he came from.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You of all people should know, Earl. He came from your father’s church. His grandfather was your father’s best friend. That church destroyed lives. All I’m saying is that maybe you two have more in common than you want to admit.”
“Can we just talk about something else, please?”
“Sure,” she said, and stood up. She walked over to me and kissed me hard. “I’ll be back on Wednesday.”
“I’m going to miss you,” I said, dropping a hand to her ass and pulling her close. She moaned a little and kissed my neck again.
“I’ve got to go.”
“I know.”
“Hey, maybe we’ll find another cave when I come back?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Just one without the creepy factor.”
She shrugged. “Teenagers, remember?”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely. It was a toy skull. Bad guys hide real ones.”
“Right,” I said.
She kissed my neck, just the way I liked, and I closed my eyes, thinking how there must be some kind of law of physics that said nothing could ever be quite perfect. This was pretty damned close, and if I could breathe deep and make myself forget Ronnie Thrash was even alive, I could fool myself, at least for a little while.
5
I spent the rest of Tuesday morning and early afternoon cleaning the house, first the kitchen and then the two bedrooms in back, before finishing with the den, while I listened to Willie Nelson singing about blue skies and cowboys. Before moving back to these mountains, I’d been a poor housekeeper, preferring to go as long as possible until a visit from a friend became imminent. Only then would I do a mad cleaning, and generally it was just as bad a few days later. But here, in the mountains, I felt an obligation to keep things presentable. As Ronnie had so succinctly pointed out this morning, I didn’t own the place. Which was one reason to take a little care, but far from the only reason. Another was that Mary did own it, and she’d insisted I stay there and absolutely refused to take any rent. The third, and most compelling reason had to do with the previous owner.
Her name was Arnette Lacey, and besides being one of the hardest-working women I’d ever known (which was why I felt a duty to continue her tradition of housekeeping), she was also—by far—the kindest and most empathetic one too. When things went bad between me and my father after the snake bit me, Arnette took me in. She also single-handedly showed me what it meant to care for another person unreservedly, without any hope of getting something in return. It wasn’t long before I started calling her Granny. I lived with her for nearly three years before leaving in the middle of a windy autumn night with nothing but a change of underwear, an extra shirt, and the Bible my mother had given me a few years earlier. The shirt made it as far as Denver, Colorado, before I lost it somewhere in Rocky Mountain National Park while skinny-dipping with a girl I’d met earlier
that morning. The underwear wore thin a few years later near Sault Ste. Marie in Michigan, and it was one of many items of clothing I simply left in the apartment I shared with three small-time drug dealers. I still had the Bible. It was tucked beneath the bed where I slept now, Granny’s old bed. Despite still having it, I’d gotten very little use out of it. I kept it in memory of my mother because, like my brother Lester and me, she’d been a victim too. Unlike Lester and me, she was an adult and should have been able to fight back, or at least she should have made an attempt. She never did, and that was one of the reasons I only kept it and never opened it. Any book that my mother used to guide her life couldn’t have much to say to me.
Or was I being too harsh? Sometimes I thought I was. Sometimes I thought about it lying under the bed, in the dark space, collecting dust, and wondered if there was some great insight or wisdom inside it that I sorely lacked.
Ironically, the person who’d come the closest to making me pick that book up was Granny. She’d been a believer, but her faith was nothing like the one I’d grown up with. Hers was a faith based on love and not judgment, acceptance and not rejection. They say Jesus saves. I wasn’t sure about that. What I did know was that Arnette Lacey had saved me. And that was why I cared about keeping the house clean.
When I finished the den and sat down to eat a sandwich in the kitchen, I heard the familiar rumble of Ronnie’s truck.
“Shit,” I said around a mouthful of pimento cheese. I finished up, fed Goose, and holstered my 9mm. It was September and still too hot for it, but I pulled on my blue jean jacket to keep the gun hidden and then sat outside to wait on him.
He beeped twice at the top of the gravel drive, and I walked over. He grinned at me and cut the stereo up when I got inside. The music was fast and ragged. A woman screamed her lungs out. Ronnie drummed on the steering wheel and bobbed his head with each thunderous beat. I reached out and cut the volume all the way down.
“Well, Jesus, Earl. I would have turned it down. Wasn’t no call to be rude.”
“I need to know what we’re doing. And don’t think about not telling me. If I’m going to help you, I have to know.”