you all bothered. We just go out and pick somebody. It ain’t hard, what with all the Mexicans wandering around down here.”
“We ain’t paid to just pick someone ,” Phillip said. “We’re paid to kill Tom London’s ex-wife. Specifically.”
“This is only a minor setback.” Calvin took a seat in the motel’s ratty easy chair. He crossed his legs. “The only thing that changes is the target.”
Phillip took another slug from the bottle of corn. His anger mounted. “This changes everything. I should have had my head examined for following you out here. I knew you lacked the . . . the commitment . Your handicap is debilitating.”
“My what? What handicap?”
“You lack a certain wherewithal to do this kind of thing,” Phillip said.
“Oh? And what is that?”
“The compulsion. The craze. How can you insist that you can manage to be any type of serial killer at all if you ain’t batshit crazy?”
Calvin shook his head. “I done read Catcher in the Rye a half-dozen times, if that counts.”
“There’s a bit more to it than that.”
“Besides, I have a perfectly reasonable alternative to our original plan,” Calvin said. When Phillip didn’t respond, he continued, “We kill Tom London.”
“Beg pardon?”
“It’s perfect.” Calvin leaned back in the chair and cradled his hands behind his head. “We drive back to Lake Castor, tell London the job is done, collect the money, then whack him.”
Phillip began to take another drink, then thought better of it. Looking into the neck of the bottle, he said: “I stand corrected. You’re crazier than I thought.”
“No, it’s perfect. You see, Corrina ain’t exactly as advertised. She’s ain’t at all the junkie London made her out to be. He’s just a creepy, philandering bastard, and he framed her. Now he wants her dead.”
“I don’t care if she’s Sister Holy Shit down at the St. Chastity’s, we were paid to knock her off for a guy, and that’s what we’re going to do.” Phillip slammed the bottle on the nightstand and paced a groove into the carpet. “We’re almost out of money, Calvin. We’ve pissed straight through the cash London gave us, and we’re going to need some more. What are you doing taking up with her anyhow? You got a wife back home. What about her?”
“Rhonda?” A smile crept across Calvin’s face. “Last thing on my mind right now is ole Rhonda, and let me assure you, I bet dollars to do-nuts that I’m the last thing on hers. That woman will land on her feet, don’t you worry.”
“You’re a piece of work,” Phillip muttered.
“We’re not killing Corrina London,” Calvin said. “You know, I ain’t never met anyone with a vision so clear and defined as her. She takes care of them addicts. I could only be lucky to matter as much as she does around here. And we’re supposed to take it away because some greasy restaurant owner holds a grudge? No thank you.”
“No, we’re supposed to take that away because it’s what we came here to do.” A vein in Phillip’s forehead trembled. “When someone comes to do something, it should get done.”
“It ain’t the first time you’ve had to go to Plan B, Phillip.” Calvin crossed his arms. “I don’t reckon it to be the last neither.”
Calvin ducked as Phillip launched the bottle of whiskey across the room. It, being plastic, bounced off the corner of the wall and landed soundlessly on the carpet. Denied the satisfaction of shattering glass, Phillip feared that he himself might explode. Calvin, sensing trouble brewing, made for the door.
“We’re not killing her,” he said. Stopping at the bureau, he scooped up the gym bag by its straps and slung it over his shoulder. He opened the door and stepped outside, into the corridor. “That’s final. You work through whatever you need to work through in order to make that right, but the mission has changed. We’re headed back to Lake Castor tomorrow, and we’re going to knock off
“We ain’t paid to just pick someone ,” Phillip said. “We’re paid to kill Tom London’s ex-wife. Specifically.”
“This is only a minor setback.” Calvin took a seat in the motel’s ratty easy chair. He crossed his legs. “The only thing that changes is the target.”
Phillip took another slug from the bottle of corn. His anger mounted. “This changes everything. I should have had my head examined for following you out here. I knew you lacked the . . . the commitment . Your handicap is debilitating.”
“My what? What handicap?”
“You lack a certain wherewithal to do this kind of thing,” Phillip said.
“Oh? And what is that?”
“The compulsion. The craze. How can you insist that you can manage to be any type of serial killer at all if you ain’t batshit crazy?”
Calvin shook his head. “I done read Catcher in the Rye a half-dozen times, if that counts.”
“There’s a bit more to it than that.”
“Besides, I have a perfectly reasonable alternative to our original plan,” Calvin said. When Phillip didn’t respond, he continued, “We kill Tom London.”
“Beg pardon?”
“It’s perfect.” Calvin leaned back in the chair and cradled his hands behind his head. “We drive back to Lake Castor, tell London the job is done, collect the money, then whack him.”
Phillip began to take another drink, then thought better of it. Looking into the neck of the bottle, he said: “I stand corrected. You’re crazier than I thought.”
“No, it’s perfect. You see, Corrina ain’t exactly as advertised. She’s ain’t at all the junkie London made her out to be. He’s just a creepy, philandering bastard, and he framed her. Now he wants her dead.”
“I don’t care if she’s Sister Holy Shit down at the St. Chastity’s, we were paid to knock her off for a guy, and that’s what we’re going to do.” Phillip slammed the bottle on the nightstand and paced a groove into the carpet. “We’re almost out of money, Calvin. We’ve pissed straight through the cash London gave us, and we’re going to need some more. What are you doing taking up with her anyhow? You got a wife back home. What about her?”
“Rhonda?” A smile crept across Calvin’s face. “Last thing on my mind right now is ole Rhonda, and let me assure you, I bet dollars to do-nuts that I’m the last thing on hers. That woman will land on her feet, don’t you worry.”
“You’re a piece of work,” Phillip muttered.
“We’re not killing Corrina London,” Calvin said. “You know, I ain’t never met anyone with a vision so clear and defined as her. She takes care of them addicts. I could only be lucky to matter as much as she does around here. And we’re supposed to take it away because some greasy restaurant owner holds a grudge? No thank you.”
“No, we’re supposed to take that away because it’s what we came here to do.” A vein in Phillip’s forehead trembled. “When someone comes to do something, it should get done.”
“It ain’t the first time you’ve had to go to Plan B, Phillip.” Calvin crossed his arms. “I don’t reckon it to be the last neither.”
Calvin ducked as Phillip launched the bottle of whiskey across the room. It, being plastic, bounced off the corner of the wall and landed soundlessly on the carpet. Denied the satisfaction of shattering glass, Phillip feared that he himself might explode. Calvin, sensing trouble brewing, made for the door.
“We’re not killing her,” he said. Stopping at the bureau, he scooped up the gym bag by its straps and slung it over his shoulder. He opened the door and stepped outside, into the corridor. “That’s final. You work through whatever you need to work through in order to make that right, but the mission has changed. We’re headed back to Lake Castor tomorrow, and we’re going to knock off
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