minute?”
“I’ve already held my horses for a minute, Daniel. I’d like to see that camera right now.”
Luther feels the blood of humiliation coloring his face. Daniel brings the receiver to his ear again, steps down off the stool, and turns his back to Luther.
“Megan, I’m gonna have to call you back. I’m sorry… Yes, I do think Jack is being unreasonable, but—” Daniel laughs. “I do, yes.”
Daniel continues to talk.
Luther again counts to sixty.
Then he returns to his buggy and pushes it out of ELECTRONICS. He rolls the buggy outside without paying through the chromed brilliance of the crowded parking lot to his gray Impala. He loads his bags of candy into the backseat and climbs behind the steering wheel. From a notebook in the passenger seat he tears out a clean sheet of paper, on which he scribbles OUT OF ORDER: DO NOT ENTER! Then he takes a roll of Scotch tape from the glove compartment, crams several handfuls of Lemonheads in his pocket, and walks back into Wal-Mart.
Luther arrives at the service counter in SPORTING GOODS.
The clerk is a stodgy woman with black-rooted red hair.
“ Babs , I’m in the market for a baseball bat,” he says.
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. We don’t carry those cept in summer. But we just got our huntin ’ merchandise in if you’re—”
Walking away, Luther pulls his hair into a ponytail and takes a camouflage baseball cap from an aisle of hunting apparel in case the cameras are watching.
For the next two hours he loiters on the outskirts of ELECTRONICS watching Daniel flit around ignoring customers, sucking through Lemonheads until he has a chemical burn on the roof of his mouth.
Daniel finally leaves ELECTRONICS and ambles to the front of the store.
Luther follows him outside where Daniel leans against a Sam’s Choice drink machine and smokes two cigarettes while staring contemplatively out across the parking lot. It’s six o’clock in the evening and the light is bronze. Luther stands near the automatic doors, his attention divided between Daniel and the red sunset.
He feels an erection coming.
By the time Daniel reenters Wal-Mart, Luther is swollen. He follows the clerk to the back left corner of the store, then down a bright empty corridor. Daniel digs his shoulder into a door and disappears into a restroom. Luther reaches the door, pulls the sheet of paper from his pocket, and tapes it over the man symbol.
Luther enters.
Three stalls, two urinals.
Dropping to his knees, he sees the pair of legs in the last stall and smiles.
They are alone. He could not have planned this any better.
Luther walks into a vacant stall. He reaches down, lifts the right leg of his gray sweatpants, and unbuttons the strap of his leather sheath. After setting the knife on the toilet, Luther takes off his sneakers and socks, pulls down his gray sweatpants, his underwear, and removes his sweatshirt and T-shirt.
This is going to be messy and walking through Wal-Mart in blooddrenched clothes is not a wise thing to do.
Taking the knife, he emerges naked from the stall and turns the two faucets wide open. The soft roaring echo of water pressure fills the room. He flushes the urinals, the toilets in the first two stalls, and starts both automatic hand dryers. Finally he flips off the light and opens and shuts the bathroom door as though the janitor had left.
Daniel curses, the toilet paper dispenser barely audible over the babble of running water and rushing air. The blackness is complete except for a razorthin line of light along the base of the door.
Luther stands beside the light switch stroking himself.
He inhales deeply, at home in darkness.
Daniel’s toilet flushes and as the zipper on his jeans ascends Luther grips the knife.
He would have preferred to spread Daniel’s brains across the wall with a Louisville Slugger, one
“I’ve already held my horses for a minute, Daniel. I’d like to see that camera right now.”
Luther feels the blood of humiliation coloring his face. Daniel brings the receiver to his ear again, steps down off the stool, and turns his back to Luther.
“Megan, I’m gonna have to call you back. I’m sorry… Yes, I do think Jack is being unreasonable, but—” Daniel laughs. “I do, yes.”
Daniel continues to talk.
Luther again counts to sixty.
Then he returns to his buggy and pushes it out of ELECTRONICS. He rolls the buggy outside without paying through the chromed brilliance of the crowded parking lot to his gray Impala. He loads his bags of candy into the backseat and climbs behind the steering wheel. From a notebook in the passenger seat he tears out a clean sheet of paper, on which he scribbles OUT OF ORDER: DO NOT ENTER! Then he takes a roll of Scotch tape from the glove compartment, crams several handfuls of Lemonheads in his pocket, and walks back into Wal-Mart.
Luther arrives at the service counter in SPORTING GOODS.
The clerk is a stodgy woman with black-rooted red hair.
“ Babs , I’m in the market for a baseball bat,” he says.
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. We don’t carry those cept in summer. But we just got our huntin ’ merchandise in if you’re—”
Walking away, Luther pulls his hair into a ponytail and takes a camouflage baseball cap from an aisle of hunting apparel in case the cameras are watching.
For the next two hours he loiters on the outskirts of ELECTRONICS watching Daniel flit around ignoring customers, sucking through Lemonheads until he has a chemical burn on the roof of his mouth.
Daniel finally leaves ELECTRONICS and ambles to the front of the store.
Luther follows him outside where Daniel leans against a Sam’s Choice drink machine and smokes two cigarettes while staring contemplatively out across the parking lot. It’s six o’clock in the evening and the light is bronze. Luther stands near the automatic doors, his attention divided between Daniel and the red sunset.
He feels an erection coming.
By the time Daniel reenters Wal-Mart, Luther is swollen. He follows the clerk to the back left corner of the store, then down a bright empty corridor. Daniel digs his shoulder into a door and disappears into a restroom. Luther reaches the door, pulls the sheet of paper from his pocket, and tapes it over the man symbol.
Luther enters.
Three stalls, two urinals.
Dropping to his knees, he sees the pair of legs in the last stall and smiles.
They are alone. He could not have planned this any better.
Luther walks into a vacant stall. He reaches down, lifts the right leg of his gray sweatpants, and unbuttons the strap of his leather sheath. After setting the knife on the toilet, Luther takes off his sneakers and socks, pulls down his gray sweatpants, his underwear, and removes his sweatshirt and T-shirt.
This is going to be messy and walking through Wal-Mart in blooddrenched clothes is not a wise thing to do.
Taking the knife, he emerges naked from the stall and turns the two faucets wide open. The soft roaring echo of water pressure fills the room. He flushes the urinals, the toilets in the first two stalls, and starts both automatic hand dryers. Finally he flips off the light and opens and shuts the bathroom door as though the janitor had left.
Daniel curses, the toilet paper dispenser barely audible over the babble of running water and rushing air. The blackness is complete except for a razorthin line of light along the base of the door.
Luther stands beside the light switch stroking himself.
He inhales deeply, at home in darkness.
Daniel’s toilet flushes and as the zipper on his jeans ascends Luther grips the knife.
He would have preferred to spread Daniel’s brains across the wall with a Louisville Slugger, one
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