by Jeff Vrolyks
* * *
It was late-afternoon when Eddie drove past the Stoddard farm in Timothy’s Camry at low speed. Just before arriving at an intersection, between two choppy dirt fields, he pulled off the road and killed the engine. The stop sign up ahead was riddled with bullet holes. Eddie grinned at it. “Ahh, to be young, bored, and stupid.”
In the far east low dark clouds were coming this way. Would there be rain and thunder tomorrow, possibly even tonight? Eddie kind of hoped so, and the wind was picking up. Is there anything more cozy than rain pelting your roof with punctuations of crackling thunder rattling your domicile? No, there isn’t.
He reached over to the passenger seat, handled his jade idol, gazed vacantly at it, swept a thumb over its misshapen head, palmed it tightly, set it back down. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, sighed impatiently, looked off into the distance. The sun was directly to his left and at the perfect angle to annoy him, searing the corner of his eye. He withdrew the cellphone from his pocket and dialed information. He lowered and turned the sun-visor to blot out that fucking yellow ball of lava.
“Connect me to Saint John’s Memorial Hospital, please.” The call connected with a click. A receptionist answered after two rings. “Transfer me to Doctor Matthew Albrect’s office, please.” It transferred, rang. He was greeted by a receptionist who sounded like the previous. “Good afternoon,” Eddie said. “I need to speak with the good doctor Matthew Albrect, if you please.”
“Regarding?”
“Personal affairs. Tell him it pertains to his niece Mae Clark. That should do it.”
“One moment, please.”
Eddie spied in the distance a young man walking in his direction on the other side of the road. Road 171, which claimed addresses of farms, farms, and more farms, ranging in size from a half city-block to two blocks.
“This is Doctor Albrect,” a man said.
“Matthew, my name is Edgar Verboom. I’m an acquaintance of Trent Blackwood’s.”
“Oh,” Matthew said with blatant disappointment. “What do you want, Edgar?”
“I suppose acquaintance was a poor word choice. I’m at odds with him.”
“And what is it I can do for you?”
Eddie half-expected him to say he was a very busy, important man, so stop wasting his valuable time. He didn’t, but that didn’t mean the doctor wasn’t thinking it.
“Could we meet this evening?” Eddie fixed on the boy drawing nearer and changed his mind. “Make that tomorrow evening. There’s something you ought to know about Mae’s boyfriend, something that would be of great interest to you. What time do you take your break?”
“Whenever I get a chance. I’m perpetually busy. Couldn’t you tell me over the phone?”
“No. Could you give me a time-frame to meet? I’ll be in the lobby of the hospital during that time.” The young man was getting near; Eddie stowed the jade idol in his pocket.
“Since it’s regarding Mae, of course I will. How does between seven and eight P.M. sound?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Eddie ended the call and tossed the phone aside to the seat, returned the impeding sun-visor forward. Across the street the kid was now lateral to him, leering at Eddie, at the guy in a car on the dirt shoulder for no apparent reason. Eddie waved the dude over. He crossed the street and hunched forward even with the open Toyota window.
“What’s up, man?” Eddie said spiritedly.
“Hey.”
“You know what I can’t stand?”
The young man’s eyes asked what it was he couldn’t stand.
“White people who pal around with blacks,” Eddie said. “And worse than that?—white people who mate with them.”
The dude humored and nodded in agreement.
“I’m Eddie.”
“Max.”
They shook hands.
“Yes, I’ve heard of you. I just landed a job with the Stoddard’s. You know who I’m talking about.” He thumbed in the direction of the farm, behind him. “Phillip and Phyllis, their adopted kid Timothy.” Max nodded. “Timothy told me about you, about how if he ever got in a fight with you a second time, your ass would be fucking pounded. Pounded harder than a gay sailor on shore-leave. That’s what he said, verbatim.” Max looked both stunned and pleased. Mostly stunned. “Anyway, I know how you feel about Phillip being with that black chick. Pretty disgusting, huh?”
“It ain’t right,” Max said. “God didn’t intend for whites to mix with blacks.”
“You’re right. God how you’re right. That’s why there’s a vanilla flavor and a chocolate flavor, but there ain’t no flavor that’s a mixture of the two. What’s so unfortunate is that shit’s passed down from generation to generation, tolerance. Wouldn’t you know it, but Timothy has a couple black girlfriends now. Can you believe that shit?”
“That stuttering little pecker has girlfriends?” Max said incredulously.
Eddie nodded gravely. “And I got to work with these people. But a job’s a job, and I need the money. Look, I was hoping you could help me out, this evening, at eight o’clock. Timothy is having those black bitches over. I’d love to see him get his comeuppance, you know? Wipe that smug little grin off his stuttering face. Maybe you could stop by and teach him a lesson on race?”
“Why do you need me? Can’t you kick his ass by yourself?”
“What do you think?” Eddie said thickly and laughed; the pedestrian laughed with him reflexively. “I would crush that little fucker. But like I said, I work for them, and can’t afford to be unemployed again. So you’re going to help me; that is, unless you’re worried he’ll kick your ass this time. He swore up and down that you just got lucky last time, and threw some cheap shots.”
“Dude that ain’t even funny. It wasn’t even close, man: I pulverized that stuttering little freak. Yeah, I’ll come.”
“Here’s how it’ll play out. There’s a gate, but who cares: the wooden perimeter fence is low enough—hop on over, just come right in, go to the barn. In the loft is where they’ll be. I’ll be just outside the barn.” Eddie looked again to the east, those low rolling dark clouds headed this way. “I won’t be in the barn. I can’t. I can’t have Timothy thinking I had anything to do with this. You’ll rough him up a little, smack those bitches around how you see fit. I really don’t care what you do with them. Have some fun for all I care. They got nice bodies. There’s some good times to be had there, trust me.”
“What if his grandpa and nigger grandma hear us? They’ll call the cops on us for sure.”
“They won’t hear it. They sit in front of the TV all evening, and they’re hard of hearing to begin with—you should hear how loud they got that TV going. Not to mention the barn is far enough away from the house that it shouldn’t be an issue. Look, I really appreciate this. We whites got to stick together, bro.”
“No problem, dude. I can’t believe that panty-waste thinks I got lucky last time.” Max shook his head with a smirk.
“Hey, who around here sells weed?”