Shoot the Money

by Chris Wiltz

  Peewee talked fast. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell. Don’t ask me to do that. She said she was coming home soon, maybe for the wedding.” His eyes begged Daniel.

  Daniel shook his head. “I’m not waiting any more.”

  Peewee was close to panic now. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to go see her. That’s all, Peewee, I’m just going to go see her.”

  Peewee hesitated and Raymond said, “It would be a shame if you were all messed up for your wedding.”

  Peewee flung Raymond’s arm off him with his forearm. He kept his voice as steady as he could. “You’re a bully, Raymond. You always have been. Why don’t you grow the fuck up?”

  Daniel said, “He’s got a point, buddy.” He moved Peewee away from Raymond. “You stand over there while Peewee tells me where Earlene is.”

  So Peewee told him.

  ***

  Karen and Luc got over trying to avoid each other. They were too busy. After the shooting La Costa Brava had been closed a couple of days. When it reopened it seemed as though everyone in town started coming in. LaDonna was going to have the floors refinished in the dining room since it had been impossible to wash all the blood out of the worn wood, but part of the attraction was the stains. As Luc said, people liked to rubber-neck while they ate.

  Karen came from upstairs at five o’clock and Luc got the cappuccino machine going.

  “How’s Raynie?”

  “She stopped being sick around noon yesterday. You know, I think she loved him.”

  Luc said, “Shock.”

  “What, you don’t think she could have loved him?”

  “I mean she’s still in shock. I don’t know if she loved him. I guess at some point she’ll be able to tell us.”

  “Maybe. She keeps saying, ‘Watch what you think about,’ whatever that means.”

  They were silent for a while, Karen sipping at her cappuccino, Luc straightening lines of glasses he’d already straightened.

  “So you got her all moved in?”

  “She’s in but Jimmy bought her a new wardrobe. We don’t know where to put it. I think we’re going to look for a two bedroom.”

  Luc nodded. “Too bad, though, that’s a good place. So…what’s Raynie going to do? About work, I mean. Or maybe she doesn’t have to any more.”

  “She’s already talked to Pascal. She’s going back to work at the restaurant sometime next week.”

  “That’s good.”

  A few uncomfortable moments passed.

  Karen said, “She might come over later. She’s having trouble sleeping.”

  It seemed as though they’d stretched the conversation to its outer limits until Luc said, “This has been a full tilt black-rock week.”

  Karen put her cappuccino down. “Did something happen to you I don’t know about?”

  “You know about it.” He put his hands on the bar and assumed his stance.

  She picked up the cup again and said over it, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Sure you do. Look, I wish I felt different about everything but you have to admit, it got scary, way too scary.”

  “I admit it.”

  He leaned on his forearms and smiled at her. “You remember what you told me about Jack taking risk over convenience and Solo taking risk over inconvenience? Did I get that right?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, what about you? What side do you fall on?”

  The feeling she was going to blow passed in about two seconds. She smiled back at him. “Neither. For me, it’s risk for risk’s sake.”

  ***

  Daniel and Raymond consulted their map, found a parking space, and walked to St. Philip Street. They found the address on a rickety wood gate with no door bell.

  “This looks bad, Daniel. My sister’s living in a rat trap. I say we wrap my shirt around her head and haul her off.”

  “That gives me some insight as to why she left, dickhead.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Daniel knocked, rattled the gate by its handle, then started yelling, “Hello? Hello?”

  Raynie was in the shower and Karen had Cassandra Wilson at top volume but she finally heard the commotion. She opened the gate to two guys in jeans and cowboy boots. One of them held his hat in his hand. It seemed as though there were too many cowboys in New Orleans these days.

  The one holding his hat said, “I’m looking for Earlene Dick.”

  Karen stifled a laugh and started to say she didn’t know anyone named Earlene Dick but something clicked. “Are you Daniel?”

  He said he was and Karen let them in. Daniel introduced her to Earlene’s brother. She told them to wait in the courtyard.

  The water was still running in the shower. She knocked. “Raynie?” She opened the door a crack. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” Raynie said.

  Karen walked into the steam. “Hold your horses, okay? There’s someone here asking for Earlene Dick.”

  Raynie’s head popped out from behind the shower curtain.

  “The man of your dreams—Daniel.”

  ***

  Raynie and Daniel sat at the courtyard table. Karen had left for La Costa and Raymond had finally been banned to ESPN after he’d gone on a rant—nothing but a guilt trip about Earl, who asked for her all the time, and Bernie, who would never forgive her, and all the gossipy speculation running around Mamou, people saying she’d been murdered, went chasing after a man, was pregnant, and everything in between.

  They talked quietly, Raynie trying to explain why she’d had to leave. She knew Daniel would never quite understand when he said, “Okay, you’ve had your adventure. Come home with me now. We have children waiting to be born, Earlene.”

  She had told him every other way she knew. “The thing is, Daniel, I’m not Earlene any more. I’m different…things have happened…I can’t live that life.”

  “People don’t change, Earlene. Not really.”

  “You’re right. They don’t. I’ve known I can’t live that life for a long time. I guess since my mother died. I could ignore that, marry you, have all those children you want. But, Daniel, I would never be happy.”

  He looked away. “So you’re happy now?”

  She had decided from the moment Peewee called her yesterday that she wasn’t going to tell Daniel and Raymond about Jimmy Johnpier even though that was part of her new identity, her new history, what made her not Earlene any more. “Yes, I am. I’m happy now.”

  She reached across the table for his hand. He looked at her. “There’s something for me here, Daniel. I have to stay for it.”

  “Maybe after you find it you can come home.”

  “It’s not about finding anything. It’s about being comfortable here, recognizing it as the place I belong. Don’t wait for me, Daniel.”

  “So that’s it? I’m out?”

  She didn’t know how to answer his anger. He took his hand from her and picked up his hat.

  She watched him and Raymond walk away. He didn’t look back, although Raymond did to holler, “You better come see Earl, or I’ll come git you, li’l sister.”

  There was a moment that she wanted to run after Daniel, a moment of doubt. She closed the gate. She could sit here and cry and go through it all for the hundredth time or she could get on with it.

  ***

  Karen, Raynie and LaDonna were sitting around LaDonna’s office at La Costa Brava.

  “One thing about it,” LaDonna said, “Ramon’s his happy old self again.” She laughed. “He hated Solo but he sure wanted that money bad. Girl, I ain’t never seen a man so conflicted.” She shook her head. “Money. You try to get it, you got it, you don’t got it, it’s sitting right in front of you—no matter where it is, it makes you crazy.”

  A short rap at the door and Ramon opened it. “Hello you beautiful women. You ready, LaDonna?”

  “Just a minute, honey, wait for me downstairs.”

  He closed the door and Karen sai
d, “Where’s all his bling?”

  “I told him lose it for a while. We’re off to the 9 to talk to what people are down there about the community center. He’s not going around raising money like that neither.”

  “As long as we’re talking about money…” Raynie took some folded papers out of her purse and handed them to LaDonna. “Don’t forget about this.”

  LaDonna looked at the note, the fifty thousand dollars she owed to Jimmy and Pascal. “I haven’t forgotten. I thought I owed Pascal now. You inherit this?”

  “Not exactly. Pascal and Jimmy had a little bet. Jimmy won.”

  “So, what, I owe you now?”

  Raynie took the papers back. She tore them in half. “You don’t owe nobody nothin.”

  LaDonna looked from Raynie to Karen, back to Raynie. “I’m sure he meant for you to have this money. I mean, girl, there’s nothing left.”

  Raynie shook her head. “For the film, a parting gift from Jimmy.”

  ***

  After LaDonna and Ramon left, Karen took Raynie to one of the tables across from the bar.

  “That was a real act of generosity, Raynie, but I want to pay LaDonna’s loan off.”

  Raynie considered that a moment. “With what?”

  “With money Jack stole from Solo that I stole from Jack.”

  “Fifty thousand dollars?”

  “I think it’s a little less than that now.”

  “You took it but you don’t want it any more?”

  “Something like that. And LaDonna’s note—don’t give me that Jimmy’s parting gift crap. That money was for you.”

  “I want LaDonna to be free of it. She lost her house, everything. I’m okay. There’ll be some money left after the IRS gets theirs, a fair amount, the lawyer thinks. I’ll be okay.”

  “You sure?” Raynie nodded and Karen said, “Why don’t you sleep on it a few days.”

  “I don’t need to. I’m okay, really. You keep your money. For a rainy day.”

  “I don’t know. It’s the way I got it—bad karma.”

  “Who’s that, your mother talking?”

  Karen sighed. “I’ve been indoctrinated. What do you want to drink?” She started to get up.

  Raynie put her hand out. She sat down. “I went over to see Pascal yesterday. He said to ask you if you’re poor yet and tell you he’s ready for his rat’s-ass chance if you are. Does this money have anything to do with him?”

  Karen shook her head slowly. That wasn’t the right question. The question was what was he willing to do for money? What were any of them willing to do for it? And then, if they got it, what did money do to them? You did have a choice about that, didn’t you?

  “You should go talk to him, Karen. Jimmy thought the world of him, and he’s always been good to me. Maybe he can help you with this whole money thing.”

  “Maybe, but he doesn’t know about it. It’s just money in general. Like LaDonna said, how it makes people crazy.”

  “You really don’t want this money? Give it to LaDonna for the community center. What’s the money club mantra—share the wealth, create more?”

  Karen looked up with disbelief. “You say money club and…”

  Raynie paled as Judy and Kirk walked into the bar, Kirk on crutches, his leg in a cast.

  “There she is! You don’t come to see us any more so we came to see you.” She kissed Karen then Raynie. “By the way, Jack’s at your house. I thought you and he were…” she pointed her thumbs away from each other.

  “Easier said than done.” She said to Kirk, “What happened to you?”

  “Fell off a ladder. Your mother, she’s been unbelievable, taking care of me, making us money…she’s an amazing woman.” He smiled at Judy and she beamed.

  “Show us the scene of the crime,” she said.

  Karen took them into the dining room.

  “You know, darling, I really worry about you down here, all this violence…”

  “Mother, please. There are the blood stains. Business has been booming. Let’s go have a drink.”

  The bar began to fill up, with the first jazz show starting in less than an hour. Buddha sat on a stool at the door to the music room, collecting money and showing off his new ink, a body with a knife in it and a cowboy hat over its face. Zachary said he’d work a double so Karen had him make her a Matador. She had a few Matadors. She noticed Luc paying a lot of attention to Raynie. Later she heard her mother talking to Raynie about the money club. When Kirk told Judy he was tired, Karen walked them out and let her mother fast track through all the don’t-be-a-stranger routines, which now included a sales pitch for the money club.

  She was weary when she sat next to Raynie at the bar. “For fucksake, my mother. Maybe if she started a how to get rid of money club, I’d go.”

  She polished off her Matador and Zachary asked her if she wanted another. She shook her head. “I’m bouncing.” She said to Raynie, “I’m going home to deal with Jack.”

  “You do that. I’ll hang here for a while.”

  ***

  Jack was lounging on the sofa, watching highlights from college football. “Hey, sweetstuff,” he said when she walked in. His eyes floated back to the TV, his hand into the bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos he was eating.

  “Jack, I’m getting dangerously tired of asking what the fuck you’re doing here.”

  “What?” he said with his mouth full. His eyes never left the screen. “Oh, man, did you see that?” He wiped the Doritos hand on the sofa.

  “Hey, that’s my sofa, you prick.”

  “Oh, sorry.” He tried to turn to brush the sofa off with his clean hand, groaned and lay back, rubbing his hand over his rib cage. “I’m almost out of pain pills. You got anything?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “A bourbon would be real nice, babes. These ribs are killing me.”

  She brought him a drink and sat in the big chair where Jack couldn’t see her without twisting his head.

  “Oh, this is a good one,” he said, not about the drink, but gesturing at the TV. “Check this play.”

  Karen stared at the screen.

  “You see that?” He twisted his head, winced and said, “Sumbitch is like a fucking locomotive.”

  He never noticed when Karen didn’t answer. She sat a while longer, a few more plays, Jack yelling at the TV, a commercial break, more plays, Jack stomping his foot at the TV then complaining about his ribs, and finally, a new announcement from the National Weather Service about predictions and hurricane preparedness.

  She couldn’t take it any more.

  She got up and went into her bedroom. Inside her closet was the gym bag with the money in it. She’d gotten it from the box at the bank with the idea of giving it to Raynie. Or splitting it. The two of them living on it. Or something. Easy come, easy go. She brought it into the living room and dropped it between the chair and the TV. Jack either didn’t hear or decided not to turn his head again.

  She went over to the commode and reached under it. The gun was still there. She knew Jack had searched the apartment more than once. She tore at the duct tape holding the gun to the bottom of the commode. The liquor bottles on top rattled.

  “What are you doing, Karen?”

  Making too much noise, she guessed. “Nothing.”

  She went and sat back in the big chair. She flicked her wrist the way she’d seen guys do in the movies and the cylinder opened. She spun it. Yep, still loaded.

  “What…” Jack struggled into a sitting position. “What the fuck are you doing, Karen?”

  “Well…” she said. She aimed and shot the TV. The bullet blew it backwards but the wall stopped it then it toppled on its face. It smoked and popped and lay silent.

  “Jesus H. Christ!”

  “Guess we don’t need cable any more.”

  “Give me the gun, for Christ sake, Karen.” He started to get up. She motioned him down with it. “Don’t point it at me.”

  “Calm down, Jack.”

  “
What the fuck? Do you know how much that screen cost?”

  “Nope. Recognize that bag down there?”

  He looked. “The money.”

  “No, the chump change. I was thinking about giving it back to you.”

  Jack was rallying. He gave one of his little laughs, a snigger, really. “I could use it, sugarcakes, I really could. You know, laid up and everything.”

  “I know. But I don’t want to give it to you. I think I’m going to give it to LaDonna for her movie.”

  “That’s a real nice gesture but that would kinda be like throwing good money away. I don’t think you want to do that.”

  “Good money. Hm. Maybe not.” Karen aimed the gun at the bag. “That’s not good money. That’s bad money.” She shot it.

  “Karen, for fucksake, you outta your mind? Give me the fucking gun. You’re gonna have everyone on the block calling the cops.”

  “Oh, come on. Just once more.” She shot it again. “That’s really fun. I’d let you try it but I don’t think you’d get off on it the way I do.”

  “Fuck me on a bike, Karen.” Jack sat back, whipped.

  Karen flipped out the cylinder. “Three bullets left.” She closed the cylinder, sighted down the barrel of the gun at the dead TV and said, “I thought about giving the gun back to you.” She glanced at Jack from the corner of her eye. “But I’m not going to.” She lowered the gun. “I’m going to keep it in case you ever come back here. If you do, I’m going to shoot you three times.”

  She saw the gate open. Raynie slammed it and rushed in through the French doors. “Did y’all hear those gunshots? What’s that smell?” She looked at the TV. She looked at the gun Karen was holding in her lap. “What is going on here?”

  “We don’t have ESPN any more so Jack’s leaving. And I figured out something about money.”

  “You did? What?”

  “Sometimes you just need to shoot it.”

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.