Picaro

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Picaro Page 2

by West, Terry M.


  Binh shook his head and he stammered a response.

  "Hey, Denise! Be sure to bring this chink some chopsticks when you serve his rice!" Tyler said. He raised his boot to the seat opposite Binh and tilted his hat back.

  "Leave that poor kid alone!" Tina screeched. "You're such a god damn bully, Tyler! Why don't you grow up!"

  Tyler paid no mind to his date, or the suggestions from a few patrons to calm down.

  "Stand up, you little yellow shit," Tyler said. "I'm gonna kick your Chinese ass back to Tokyo."

  The man in the trench coat appeared next to Tyler. He held his coffee cup and paperback. "Tokyo is in Japan, genius," he said.

  Tyler moved back as the man took the seat and set his cup down. He cracked open his paperback and began to read.

  Tyler stared between Binh and the stranger. He looked around, discomfited and shown up. Pride was more vital than oxygen to a Texan. He pushed his chest out, like a puff adder.

  "Mister, I don't care how big you are. It ain't the size of the dog in the fight. Now you need to pick your ass out of that seat and go mind your business."

  The man held up an index finger as he continued reading.

  "Wait," he advised. After he consumed a paragraph, he tore a napkin from the dispenser and used it as a bookmark. He stood and turned to Tyler. He had a calm and friendly smile on his face.

  "How does this usually go. I'm making it my business? Pick on someone your own size? Isn’t there a more productive way to handle this? Blah, blah, blah," the man taunted. The man's voice had only a hint of Southern in it. He was from somewhere else, but had spent enough time in the South to pick up a little of the drawl.

  "Mister, you're fixin' to come up a bad cloud," Tyler warned. He was too damned stubborn to see his foolhardiness.

  The man leaned into Tyler's ear. Binh heard the man's quiet words. "I admire the way you’re able to express yourself so freely, Tyler. But let me ask you a question. Who in the fuck do you think you're talking to? If I wasn't starving, I'd beat you brain dead."

  There wasn't anger in the words. This made the proclamation sound even more lethal. The man had delivered it with a smile that was scarier than anything Binh had ever seen. It cowed Tyler.

  The man slapped his arm around Tyler's shoulders and pulled him close. Like he was half-hugging a buddy. He gave the truckers and waitresses a look of assurance. "It's okay folks. We're just talking it out."

  He turned those grinning but poisonous lips back to Tyler's ear. Tyler stood still, as if in striking distance of a venomous snake. The color drained from his face. Tyler pointed his eyes at the floor, like a scolded child that knew he was wrong.

  "You need to be real careful with who you try to get over on, son. Because you mouth off to the wrong person? Especially in a place like this where all manner of people come? You just might piss off someone who'll murder you, your family, and anyone who reminds them of you. There are psychos in this world who'd rather kill you as soon as look at you. They don't wear signs and they could be anybody. You don't want to play that kind of Russian roulette."

  Binh should have applauded the man for putting Tyler in his place. But he was getting a little anxious himself.

  "Now, that pretty young lady sitting with you at the booth?" the man continued, motioning to Tina. "She's your steady? Right? You know how long girls like that stay with guys like you? Until they meet a man who has confidence. Girls don't like insecure little boys, Tyler. And they sure as shit don't like waiting for a boy to start acting like a man."

  The stranger looked up to the spectators. The number had dwindled, seeing violence wasn't coming. He gave them a friendly wink. "We're all friends here."

  Then he went back to Tyler. "Your girl isn't happy with this conniption fit of yours. Do you want her to see you annihilated? You think she'll have any respect left when this mess you made is over with?"

  Tyler shook his head. "No sir, I don't," he said, apologetically. "I ain't a bad guy. Or racist. Not really. Tina drives me crazy. It makes me mad and stupid."

  "Well, you should consider trading her in. Now, I'm going to take my arm off you, and you are going to apologize to my friend. Then just step away. Without another word. Pay your bill and just go. With or without Tina. That's on you, but I know where I'd land. Walk out of here with an education, Tyler. You'll live longer."

  The man let Tyler go.

  Tyler turned his frightened eyes to Binh. "I am sorry. Truly I am. You did nothing wrong. I was just being a dickhead. I shouldn't have called you a chink. And I shouldn't have said the rice and chopsticks thing. It was out of line."

  The shamed cowboy immediately marched to his booth. He threw money on the table, and left without Tina. She grabbed her purse and angrily followed him through the door.

  Denise showed with a breakfast platter and fries with gravy. "That boy was being ugly. Can't say I'm upset you straightened him out. He looked nervous as a whore in church when you finished with him. But you're gonna behave now, right?"

  "Denise, I don’t want problems. I want food," the man said with a smirk that softened the waitress' demeanor. "I'm not the violent type. But I can't stomach something I know ain't right."

  "I wish more men were like you," Denise said. She took a scornful look at the other fellas in the establishment. She turned back to the booth. "So I take it you'll be dining here? I can have the busboy wipe down the other table?"

  The man turned to Binh. "You mind if I join you?"

  "No," Binh said. "Please."

  Denise put the plates on the table. The man looked at his food. Hot cakes, home fries, and two strips of overcooked bacon. "I didn't ask for the bacon."

  "It comes with the platter," Denise said.

  The man sighed. "Well, okay then."

  The man looked at Binh's plate. "Hey Denise, one more question. Do you make your gravy with grease? Does it have any meat in it?"

  "Hun, it's an instant brown powder and water. No meat."

  "Could you bring me a side of it?"

  Denise nodded and left the table.

  He turned to Binh. "You like bacon?"

  Binh nodded. "Yeah. It's good."

  The man took a fork, lifted the strips, and put them on Binh's plate. "Enjoy, my friend. And thank the animal for the sacrifice it has made."

  "Are you a vegetarian?" Binh asked.

  "Jesus was a vegetarian," he replied, drowning the hot cakes with syrup. "I'm not. I eat meat when I need to. Right now, I don't need to. I listen to my body and give it what it asks for. At this moment, it is asking for hot cakes, home fries, and a side of gravy. I'll bet there's a little beef fat in that powder, but I'll allow it."

  The man nodded at his plate. "I love places that serve breakfast all day. This joint will serve you anything you want anytime you want. Lunch for breakfast. Breakfast for dinner. Dinner for lunch. Fuck conformity."

  Denise returned with a Mr. Pibb and side of gravy.

  The man stared at Binh's face. He was sexy as hell, but also intimidating. Binh didn't feel a gay vibe coming from him, but his skin heated a little from the attention. Binh had a mad crush brewing.

  "Are you Vietnamese?"

  "Yeah," Binh said, shocked. "How can you tell? Most people think I'm Chinese."

  "Nah. I could tell right away you weren't Chinese. The Vietnamese usually have slightly wider noses and a smaller body. You also have a darker skin tone and bigger eyes than the Chinese."

  "Where did you learn that?" Binh said. The man was growing more and more intriguing by the second. Binh had never met someone as interesting.

  "It's no big feat," the man shrugged. "I study people. I read. And I'm not afraid to ask questions if I'm curious about something. What's your name?"

  "I'm Binh," he said.

  The man looked at him. "Is that Ben B-e-n?"

  "No, but it's the same. Everyone assumes it's that spelling."

  "It isn't the same. When I address you, I want to know that I'm saying your name in the proper fas
hion."

  The man pulled a tiny notebook and a small Yahtzee pencil from his pocket. "Spell it."

  "B-i-n-h," Binh said.

  The man jotted it down. "Last name?" he said, eyes still on the pad.

  Binh decided to give a fake one. "Dao. D-a-o."

  The man returned the pad to his coat. "Okay. Now you're in my book. I write down the name of everybody I make friends with on the road. My name's Paul Marrane."

  "Wait? Paul P-a-u-l?" Binh teased.

  Paul guffawed good-naturedly. "That's funny kid. You have a sense of humor. That's cool."

  "Thanks. And thanks for saving my ass. I thought that guy was going to pound me."

  "That little waste of sperm wasn't going to touch you," Paul said. He dipped a forkful of home fries into his gravy. "The thing about bullies - they're cowards by nature. They pick on weaker than them because they know there won't be retaliation. But they have no fight at all. Tyler just wanted to look like a big man in front of his girl. And I don't think it turned out the way he imagined it would."

  Binh smiled. "Well, few people would step up like that. I owe you."

  There was a sudden and silent agreement to focus on their meal. When dinner was over, Paul leaned back into the booth.

  "So what's your story, Binh? You don't exactly blend in here."

  "No. I got a ride. I'm heading to El Paso. I'm hoping I can find someone who can take me as far as Dallas."

  Paul looked confused. "I think you want to go to Houston for El Paso, no?"

  "I came from Houston. And I'm not going back there," Binh said.

  "What happened?" Paul asked.

  "Just… bad stuff. I can't go back."

  "What, you have warrants?" Paul asked. Then he leaned over the table and whispered, "Holy shit, Binh. Did you kill someone?"

  "No, nothing like that. Some people want to hurt me. Because of something a friend did to them."

  "There's a bus station not far from here. Less dangerous than hitching," Paul suggested.

  Binh told Paul about the narcolepsy.

  "Shit. Okay. Guess you do need a ride." Paul thought for a second. "Fuck it. I can take you."

  "To Dallas?" Binh said, brightening.

  "No man. El Paso. I haven't been to the desert in forever."

  "I can pay for gas," Binh offered.

  "Yeah, okay. I'll take you up on that. Halfsies."

  Denise brought two checks and slapped them on the table. Binh reached for his, but Paul beat him to it. "I got this. Leave a tip for Denise. And leave a nice one. She seems like good people."

  ***

  Binh followed Paul out of the diner. Night was waiting for them.

  "My ride's this way," Paul said. He led Binh to a beautiful 69 Dodge Charger. It was black and the hood protruded like a hammerhead shark.

  Binh paused to admire it. "Oh my God," he said. "That is the finest ride I have ever seen. All original?"

  "Everything that counts," Paul said, proud of his little darling. "The heart she was born with is still under her hood. An eight cylinder 383 Stroker."

  "It's beautiful. I almost don't want to offend it by putting my ass on the seat."

  "She's seen plenty of asses, Binh. Don't sweat it."

  Paul unlocked the passenger side door for Binh.

  Binh climbed inside. The black vinyl interior looked and smelled new. Paul shut the door and walked over to the driver's side. He got in the car and started it.

  "Okay," he said, putting it in gear. "El Paso here we come."

  Paul steered onto the 45 and woke his headlights. "I've had a long day. There's a motel about an hour from here. If you don't mind, I'd like to hunker down and grab some sleep. I'd let you drive while I nap, but that's probably not the best idea."

  "No," Binh agreed.

  "So tell me your life story, Binh. The radio's broken," Paul said, adjusting his rearview.

  "It's not much of one. I'm nothing special. I've done nothing special."

  "I'd tell you we're all special. But that's what you say to someone who's not. How old are you?"

  "Nineteen."

  "You live with your parents?"

  Binh scoffed. "No. They disowned me."

  "They never owned you to begin with," Paul said. "Most animals care for their young until the teat runs dry. Some animals abandon their babies as soon as they're born. But people? They never let go. It’s unnatural. Parents? They have their fingers in your brain until they die."

  "I was pretty wild. And they were strict," Binh said.

  "What do they do?"

  "They're dentists. They share a practice in Little Saigon. The Vietnamese part of Houston."

  "So what happened? Why did they reject you?"

  "More than one reason. The biggest was religion. They became Baptists. Started going to a Vietnamese Baptist church. I couldn't deal. It was bullshit. They left the tam giáo- the three disciplines, in Vietnam. I could understand leaving your country, but to throw away your entire belief system? I couldn't get on board with Christ. So they threw me out when I was sixteen."

  There was more than that. But Binh decided to leave his sexuality out of it. His parents despised homosexuals. They thought Binh was mentally ill. Their new religion didn't help. He was afraid this talk would make him morose, so he decided to find out more about Paul.

  "So what about you?"

  "Me? I didn't have it as hard as you. Normal parents. Normal upbringing."

  "Where did you grow up?"

  "I was born in Kansas, but my family moved around a lot. I was a military brat. I'm sure the lifestyle contributed to my wanderlust."

  "So what do you do now?"

  "I travel. I wander. I'm a sworn vagabond. Or picaro. I prefer that word. Nicer ring. I don't know how anyone can stand living and dying in one place when there's so much out here to see."

  "Are you rich or something? How can you afford it?"

  Paul chuckled. "If I need food or gas for my girl here, I find an odd job. I earn what I need and move on. Because I always have to be on the move."

  A flash of headlights lit the rearview mirror.

  "Looks like someone is trying to get my attention," Paul said. He didn't seem concerned.

  Binh whipped his head toward the back window. All he saw were the brights of the car that tailgated them. He began to panic. He thought about Tomás and the car he had seen at the diner when Karen left. Could they have followed him? Did they see him jump in Gene's rig and tail the truck to Madisonville? He wasn't sure. He had passed out in the semi and didn't know if a car had followed.

  "Maybe they want to go around?" Paul said.

  He rolled down his window and beckoned them forward. The car lurched over the line and started to creep up on the Dodge.

  Paul saw the vehicle before Binh. "Hola! Nice Cobra! She's a beauty! What does she have under her blouse? A V-8 428?"

  Binh fell back against the passenger side door. "Paul! They're going to kill us!"

  Binh saw one of Tomás' men point a gun out the passenger side window of the car. "Pull over, ese!"

  "Shit!" Paul said. "Whoa! Whoa! Easy!"

  Paul pulled to the shoulder and killed the engine. The Cobra stopped next to it. Before he could say a word, two men opened the door and snatched Paul from the seat. Binh, still pressed against his door, fell to the dusty shoulder when it jerked open. Two men hauled him away.

  "Take them into the sticks. I want a little privacy for this show."

  Binh recognized Tomás' voice. He thought he might piss himself.

  I'm sorry, Paul. You're gonna die because of me.

  Dragged for several feet, Binh thought his shoulders would dislocate. The gravel bit his back until he felt wet grass beneath him. They dropped him and he sat up. He looked to his right and Paul was there on his knees. The fat moon was bright at the clearing. Binh would see their torture and deaths in the silver moonlight. It wasn't a romantic prospect.

  Tomás stood in front of Binh. Four chicanos lingered behind him.
They wore violent scowls. Tomás had on a leather vest with nothing underneath and filthy jeans. He had a wild, wavy mane of pitch black hair. His good eye went between the two men on the ground. He caressed a billy club.

  "I'm sorry. Do I know you guys?" Paul said. He sounded more confused than scared.

  Tomás titled his head and examined Paul. He motioned the billy club at Binh. "What are you doing with this joto? You gonna fuck the little bitch? Having some chicken take out?"

  "No. I'm giving him a ride. I met him in Madisonville. And I don't fuck anyone until at least the third date."

  Tomás scoffed. "You acting pretty cute for a man who's about to die. People in your position usually plead. Would tell me to just kill this little fag and let them go. That they won't tell anyone. But it don't change this. It always ends the same."

  "Wow. It appears you've done this thing before," Paul said. "If you're telling me that begging isn't going to change your mind, then why should I bother? Right? Might as well go out with a little bit of dignity."

  Binh couldn't believe Paul was smirking in the face of death. He had to try and save the crazy son of a bitch. "Tomás, please. This gringo is crazy. He doesn't know shit and you don't have to worry about him saying anything. He escaped from a nuthouse. No one will believe him."

  Tomás turned back to Paul. "Is that true? You a loco hijo de puta? I can let you go and not worry about you ratting on me?"

  "Well, I wouldn't claim to be the most stable person. And I'm definitely not a rat. I prefer to keep my distance from the authorities. But in all honesty, I'd prefer to sit right here and see how this plays out. If you don't mind."

  Tomás turned to his men and they all laughed. "Mister, you are fucking crazy."

  "Tomás, please. Sweet Daddy had a deal with you. Not me. I don't know why Sweet Daddy is dead, but I'm sure there was a reason. When I saw that my picture was gone, I got scared and ran. I didn't want to die for his mistake. And Paul shouldn't have to die for it either," Binh said.

  Tomás pointed the small club at Binh. "Don't worry. We'll talk in a minute. I want to finish up with Paul here first."

  He moved the club from Binh and put it in Paul's face. "You know what this is, Crazy Paul?"

 

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