Read Online Everybody Pays by Andrew Vachss - Free Book Online Page B

And
fast
, Lester—this whole thing makes me nervous.”
    “Sure, Delva—whatever you want, okay? It’s right in here,” he said, holding up the metal box with the index cards. “Let me just . . . here! I got it.”
    “Put it on the desk,” Delva said. “And keep your hands where I can see them.”
    She moved quickly to the desk, swept the three index cards up in one hand, and glanced down to read the cards, holding the pistol steady all the while. “Okay,” the blonde said. “That’s it. You wouldn’t do something stupid, would you, Lester? Like calling them yourself and telling them what just happened here?”
    “No way, Delva,” the sickly-looking man promised. “They won’t hear nothing from me—you got my word.”
    “That’s good, Lester. Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you. This whole thing is all fake, right? Just like you said. It’s all an act. Me too. I’m acting, too. Don’t worry about the gun—it was just a joke. This pistol, it isn’t any more real than what you sell.”
    “Delva . . .”
    “That’s not my real name,” the blonde woman said. The pistol in her hand made a sound like an enormous champagne cork popping. A red dot blossomed on the gray man’s forehead.
    for Joel “Doc” Dvoskin

SLOW MOTION
    I have to wait for the fear before I start my walk.
    There’s an Eastern man in town. Came by train. Dressed like a banker. A flashy banker. Says he’s a writer.
    Someone must have told him about me. Probably over at the Lucky Lady. One of the gamblers, one of the drunks—it don’t matter.
    He says he wants to write about me. Says people where he comes from, they’re all interested in gunfighters. Lot of money in it if I’d tell him my story.
    I asked him what a lot of money meant to him . . . what the words coming out of his mouth meant. I always do that when I’m striking a deal. I like to make sure.
    He said I could get five hundred dollars if I told him everything.
    I told him to give me the money.
    He said, no, he’d have to hear what I had to say first.
    We settled on half in advance, pretty much like I expected.
    That was a week ago. I’ve been lying to him every day since then.
    Now he’s waiting to see one happen. Said I’d told him enough—all he needed was to see one happen so he could write about it from his own eyes. Then I could get paid.
    That’s why I do it, he thinks.
    See, the way people talk, you’d think you could make a living being a gunfighter. You can make a living with a gun, all right, but not fighting.
    Killing, that’s what pays.
    People talk different where the Easterner comes from. But they’re just as wrong. They think gunfighters go around having duels just to see who’s the fastest.
    I didn’t even know what a duel was until he told me. He said they do it back East, too, only they do it different. Two men start back-to-back. Then they step off while another one counts out loud. When the counter gets to the right number, both men turn and fire.
    It’s a matter of honor, the Easterner told me. If someone does something against your honor, you challenge him to a duel.
    I never fought a man for honor.
    Some do. Some men, you call them a coward or a thief or even a liar, they’ll want to step out into the street and face you.
    I’ve been called a lot worse than that, but it never got me into a gunfight.
    A man in Kansas said things about my mother. I didn’t do nothing. He kept on. I told him if he was truthful about wanting to fight me he could prove it. And not by calling my mother no names.
    He couldn’t call the vicious whore enough names to measure up to the truth, anyway.
    But I didn’t tell him that. What I told him was, put up a stake and I’d match it. Then we’d go out into the street like he wanted. Winner takes the stake.
    He didn’t have no real money. So I used on him what he was using on me. I told him he was a coward. Everybody knows I only fight for money. So him challenging me when he didn’t have