The great old Apache Indian head figure that had stood atop the marquee was gone, probably stolen, but the marquee itself was still there, high up on its metal poles. There were breaks in it and the red letters mounted there were few and left a cryptic message: ED N HE ST.
We drove past the marquee, past the pay booth, to what used to be the entrance. There was a plywood barrier now. Kids had spray-painted pictures and graffiti on it. The pictures were the usual hairy vagina and dick and balls and most of the sexual suggestions were misspelled. At least when we were kids and did that sort of thing we spelled Fuck with a c in it.
"Honk the horn," Paco said.
"What?" Chub said.
"They said honk the fucking horn."
Chub hit down on it and held it.
"Just once, dammit," Paco said.
The plywood wall shook and slid back. When it was halfway across a woman appeared from behind, got at the other end and shoved it some more.
As we drove past her, I saw that she was in her late twenties, tall—over six feet—and dark-haired. Attractive. Wearing a jogging suit with a blue jean coat over it. The coat couldn't keep you from noticing she was a bodybuilder. She looked a trim one seventy and her muscles hopped like rabbits when she moved.
I looked back and saw that she had hold of the plywood and was backing up, pulling it into place.
I glanced at Leonard, and he raised his eyebrows.
I took a deep breath. I could feel my hands fluttering on my knees. Howard's Adam's apple was working slightly and Trudy was watching me intently, her breath audible.
"Park here," Paco said, and pointed at the concession stand. We parked and got out. Howard and Trudy took the towels off their guns. More professional that way. The cold rain beat on our heads and drenched us to the bone. I found myself looking at where the old drive-in screen had been. I wished it were ten years ago, and I was here for a movie.
Paco went into the concession by himself, came out a minute later. "Come on."
We went in. It was dry inside but very cold. There was all manner of rubbish on the floor: beer cans, condoms, old popcorn bags, candy wrappers and a pile of turds that might have been human or animal.
We went past what had been the concession counter and into a room that had a faded sign above it that read OFFICE. Inside there was an old cheap desk made out of what they called pressed wood, but was little more than hardened cardboard. On the desk was a battered black porkpie hat and a frayed black umbrella. Behind the desk was a man sitting on an upright soft drink crate. Through the opening his feet and legs were visible beneath the desk. He was long and lean, dressed in black slacks with hightop black tennis shoes. His red and black plaid shirt poked out over a vanilla wind-breaker. In spite of this light attire, he didn't look cold. Quite the contrary. He had black hair cut short and greased and combed back. He wore a pair of thick-lensed glasses with square black frames. The nose bar and the left wing of the glasses were wrapped with thick white tape. The eyes behind the glasses seemed huge. They were black as his hair and only slightly less oily-looking. He smiled and showed us he was missing some teeth in the right side of his mouth. His face was slightly flushed and pimpled with sweat. He looked as if he were running a fever that was trying to break.
We were all stuffed in the little room and now the muscular woman came in, shook her wet hair like a dog. She had one hand in the pocket of her coat. She leaned in the corner, pulled a leg up and bent it so that the sole of her foot was pushed against the wall. Her face held no more expression than a wax dummy.
"Hey, the revolutionaries," said the man behind the desk. "Que Pasa. How the fuck are you?"
"We're all right," Howard said.
"Glad to hear it," the man said.
"We'd like to deal quickly," Howard said.
"Sure," the man said. "But let me introduce myself. . . Ah, fucked up. Ladies first." He nodded at the Amazon. "That shapely piece of meat is Angel. Me, I'm Soldier. I want you to remember that, know who you're dealing with. Case things don't go down the way you like, you can, come to me and say, 'Soldier, things aren't to my satisfaction.' And I can say, 'Fuck you.' "
I glanced at Leonard. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt. Howard and Trudy still had their guns but they weren't pointing them at us anymore; they held them against their legs.
"Do you know what I'm saying here?" Soldier said.
Howard looked at Trudy, and I saw his left cheek jump. Trudy's lips made a thin white line. Chub moved over near the wall Angel was occupying. He was between her and the desk. Paco moved to the right of Soldier. He had his hands in his coat pockets and was looking at the dirty, paper-littered floor.
"Nobody knows what I'm saying?" Soldier said.
"No," Trudy said. "We want to deal for the guns. That's all we want. You give us the guns, and we give you the money. We got to see the guns first."
"You do." Soldier looked at Paco. "Hear that, they got to see the guns first?"
"I hear," Paco said.
"You got guns," Soldier said. "All you got guns, 'cept for this one"—he pointed a finger at me—"and the nigger. Right?" He looked at Paco. "They're the dumb assholes helped find the money, aren't they? That right? I got 'em picked? I know I got the nigger picked. He's the only nigger in the bunch. Black man, you called him. Black my ass. I know a nigger when I see one."
"Yeah," Paco said. "That's them."
"My folks brought me here when I was fifteen. Moved down from Jersey to get here where you spear-chunkers know your place. And you're worse here. Everything's gotten so goddamn . . . What's the word, Angel?"
"Homogeneous," Angel said.
"That's it, goddamned homogeneous. You got your best Ku Kluxers up North now. Southerners, they've come to think a nigger's all right. Turns my stomach."
"Hating a person because of their skin won't solve anything," Chub said.
"Shut up, Chub," Paco said.
Soldier looked at Chub in surprise. It was as if he had just seen a miracle. "Who the fuck asked you to talk?"
"Not everyone feels like you do," Chub said.
"Not now, Chub," Paco said.
"You shut up too," Soldier said, pointing a finger at Paco. He shifted it to Chub, said, "Angel, move."
Angel stepped toward me. I saw a snubnose .38 come out of her coat pocket. I glanced back at Soldier. He stood, picked his hat up, took hold of the .45 automatic under it, pointed it at Chub and fired. The back of Chub's head went by me in a gray and red flash, hit the wall where Angel had stood. Chub bent his knees slowly, went down until he was supported on them, fell back with his face to the ceiling. The rest of what was in his head ran out like sewage.
The sound of the gunshot throbbed around the room, and Soldier, the .45 still pointed where Chub had stood, said, "Anyone makes to use their gun, I'll kill 'em. If not me, Angel. Not Angel, Paco."
We looked at Paco.
"That's the way it is," Paco said.
Chapter 22
"Yeah," Soldier said. "That's the way it is. Now play real smart, don't give me any nigger lectures, and let Angel collect your guns. Pretty please?"
Angel merely took hold of the barrels of the guns, one at a time, tugged gently. Trudy and Howard were so stunned they let go without realizing it. Angel tossed the guns on the desk, went over and opened Chub's coat and pulled his out of his waistband. I couldn't help but look at those open, bugged eyes of his, that small hole in his forehead, the puddle on the floor where the back of his head touched. No more analysis for him. No more worries about being the inadequate fat boy. I hoped at some point I had said something nice to him, more for my sake than his.
Angel tossed Chub's gun on the table with the others.
Soldier nodded at the guns. "These are for shit. You dips wouldn't have known guns had I had them. I leave here, I leave that shit right here on the desk. . . . You see, there never were any guns, or any goddamn underground. There was just Paco and he's been talking to me, and he knows me and knows I got a line
on some deals, and he wants to make big bucks. Get out of the chickenfeed, you know. The big score, and all that shit. Besides, who but me is going to hire the ugly sonofabitch for something big, huh? No offense, Paco. Fire'll do that to you. Make you like scrunched . . . What's that wrapper paper, Angel? They put it around Twinkies, that kind of thing."
"Cellophane," Angel said.
"That's it, That's the stuff your face looks like, Paco."
Soldier turned back to us and moved the sight of the .45 along the side of his jaw. Our eyes went to him and his gun and back to poor Chub. A gun and a dead body will hypnotize you, especially with the echo of the shot still ringing in your ears, the coppery smell of blood and shit stuffed full in your nostrils.
"Those are special expressions you're wearing," Soldier said, and he smiled at Trudy and Howard. "Got your goats, didn't I? Came in here all ready to deal, dragging prisoners along like you're somebody tough, and now you're all my prisoners. And I ain't got gun one. Don't think I can't get 'em, now, I can. Could. But I don't deal them much anymore. They're a hassle. Easy to get caught. Dope's easier. But Paco, he comes to me, says he's got something easier than that, got some real dumbasses on the hook that I don't got to do business with you. Just got to be here to take your money. And you know what's best for you, we'll get on with that part right now, because I don't take shit. I'm like my old man. He didn't take none of it neither. Old lady mouthed off at him, whamo." He made a backhand motion. "We kids didn't mind, whamo. Hey, see this ear." He turned his left ear to us. "See how it's kind of cauliflowered. Nothing creepy, now. Not like old Paco there, but a little fucked, you know. Old man did that. Beat me within an inch of my life. Deserved it. I was disrespectful. . . . Look here, I'm going to take that money now. Which one of you's carrying?"
I looked at Trudy. She was staring without seeing. Howard looked at her, then back to Soldier. No one said anything.
"Nobody's talking to me here," Soldier said. "Someone better talk to me real soon, or I'm going to have to get someone's attention. I'll start with the nigger, then the nagger’s pal. Paco, what's his name?"
"Hap," Paco said.
"Hap. Old Happy Kind of Guy. . . . Listen, talk to me. I'm going to get the money anyway. I can shoot you and search you. But hey, I'm easy. I'd prefer you show a little respect here and give it over. I'm big on respect. Know what I'm saying?"
"We want the guns," Trudy said, and her voice was surprisingly firm.
Soldier smiled. "What's that? The guns? You want the guns?" He looked at Paco. "She wants the guns." He turned back to Trudy. "Bitch, I told you, there aren't any guns. No bang-bangs. Not even any bullets for you to throw. You see, it's like this. You give me the money, and I don't blow your brains out. That's the deal, see, and that's all the deal there is." Soldier lifted the automatic and pointed it at Leonard. "We'll start with the coon, he'll be missed the least. We work up from there and end it with the woman."
Howard said, "We didn't bring it with us."
"Say what?" Soldier said. "What're you talking here? Got in a hurry going out the door and forgot the money? Huh? That the story? Hey, you better talk to me, asshole."
Howard's Adam's apple seemed to be plugging his vocal cords. "We don't have the money with us."
Soldier put the automatic on the desk and looked at Paco. "What's this? There some money or not?"
"There's money," Paco said. "I saw it."
"You wouldn't fuck with Soldier, would you?"
"I saw the money. I told them to bring it."
"You told them. You didn't see them bring it, though, right?"
"No, but mere's money. Ballpark of four hundred thousand."
"All right, you . . . What's your name?"
"Howard."
"Right. Howard. About this money you didn't bring with you."
"We ... me and Trudy thought we ought not to bring it. We thought things might not work out. . . that we'd have to bargain. The guns might not be right, and if we didn't have the money with us, we ... well, we . . ."
Soldier pointed a finger at Howard. "You'd have a lever. Am I right on that? Talk to me."
"That's right," Howard said.
"Then," Soldier said, picking up the automatic, "you could jack with old Soldier, and he'd say, oh gee, you don't like this deal. Well, we'll set it up again. Fix it to your satisfaction. Man, you must have fallen off the ... What kind of hay truck am I going for here, Angel?"
"The proverbial," Angel said.
"There you are. You must have fallen off the proverbial hay truck, Howard, my friend. You see, I don't have to deal."
"I brought five thousand of it," Howard said. "We thought that could be a down payment if things weren't just right. We were trying to be cautious. We thought of it last night."
Soldier turned to Paco. "They thought of this last night. They didn't tell you? I mean, you're supposed to be one of them and they didn't tell you?"
Paco shook his head.
"It was a precaution is all," Howard said. "In case of... in case of a double cross."
"A double cross. Hey, I don't like not being trusted, see. It's disrespectful."
"We thought there'd be guns," Howard said. "Just thought that we might get skimped on the number and the quality. We'd read about that kind of thing."
Soldier nodded his head. "Read about it, uh-huh. Well, how much you say you brought?"
"Five thousand."
"That's not piss in a bucket, Howard. Tell him, Angel."
"That's not piss in a bucket," Angel said.
"You'd have to pay me more than that to fuck your sister if she had six feet of legs and a pussy like a velvet clam. That's nothing. I make that in a day, Mr. Howard. You're wasting my time. Give me the five thousand."
Howard dug in his jacket, came forward and gave Soldier the five thousand, went back to stand by Trudy. Soldier put the automatic on the table and thumbed through the money. "Five thousand, all right. This'll be part of my share. That okay with you, Paco? Angel?"
Neither answered. It wasn't meant as a real question.
"Now, here's what we're going to do," Soldier said. "You're going to tell me where the money is, Mr. Howard."
"Leonard's place," Howard said. "We buried it."
"I see, buried it," Soldier said. "What I ought to do here is shoot the lot of you, 'cept Howard. Then you and me, Howard, we can go dig up this money."
"Be less messy to take everyone and go get it," Paco said.
"You say something, man?"
"I don't want to kill anybody 'less I have to," Paco said. "I've done it, but just when I have to."
"I say you have to, Paco, you have to. You think I didn't have to kill that asshole a while ago? That what you're thinking? A little bloodshed could have been avoided here?
I'll tell you, that asshole had no respect. That's the difference between you and me, Paco. I demand respect."
Soldier sat down on the soft drink crate and looked at us. "What about you, girlie?" he said to Trudy. "What you think about all this?"
"I'm not giving you the money," Trudy said.
"I see," Soldier said. "Spunk. Not much respect, but spunk. Just the same, I'm feeling generous as Jesus, so we'll do this Paco's way. We'll go to Leonard's . . . Leonard, that's the nigger, right?"
"Right," Paco said.
"We'll go to the nigger's place, dig up the money, take it and go our merry way, leave you holding your asses. How's that sound? You up for that, Howard? A little digging?"
There were tears on Howard's cheeks. "Yes," he said.
"Good," Soldier said. "Knowing you're happy makes me happy."
Chapter 23
Soldier went through Chub's pockets, took his money and the mini-van keys. He put on the porkpie and got his umbrella. We left Chub where he lay and went out into the rain.
Soldier and Angel had a worn white Lincoln parked on the other side of the concession, and we went there first, stood in the cold rain while Soldier told us a little about respect. Paco got
behind the wheel of the Lincoln. Angel sat up front, twisted in her seat to watch Howard and Trudy in the back.
They left ahead of us.
Soldier made me drive the mini-van. He put Leonard beside me, and he took the backseat. He said, "Don't drive fast and don't think about any stupid shit like wrecking. I can put a bullet in both of you before we wrap around a telephone pole."
I didn't know which was preferable, a telephone pole or a bullet. I didn't want either.
I put the van in gear and started driving. When we were on the highway, Soldier tapped me on the shoulder with the automatic. "Angel. Whatda ya think of her? How she looks, I mean."
"She's all right," I said. "The gun takes away some."
"Those muscles bother you?"
"No."
"Yeah. Well, I tell you. Climb on top of her, it's like climbing on boulders. You can get a bruise. Stick your dick in her, you don't know you're getting it back. Got a bear trap for a pussy. We're talking about getting married. Whatda ya think?"
"You're a match made in heaven," I said.
"Yeah, maybe," he said. "But I don't know a man ought to marry some woman can bench press more than him, know what I'm saying? It far to the nigger's place?"
"Reasonably far," I said.
"Yeah, well, drive careful. I've seen some bad wrecks, weather like this."
By the time we got there the weather had really gotten bad. There were flakes of snow mixed in with the blowing rain and ice and the sky was dusk as near sunset. Last time I had eaten was early that morning, and I was famished and felt a little light-headed.
We went into the house, which had been left unlocked, and Angel was standing by the couch holding her gun. Paco had his automatic in his waistband and he was stacking kindling in the fireplace. Trudy and Howard sat on the couch side by side with their hands on their knees. They glanced up when we came in, then glanced away.
Soldier shook out his umbrella on the living room floor and snapped it shut so briskly we all jumped. He smiled and propped the umbrella against the door frame.
Angel waved me and Leonard over to the couch, made us sit with Trudy and Howard. It was a tight fit. Me, Leonard, Trudy and Howard, the four dumb assholes.
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