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Authors: Eric Beetner
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that her father’s corpse was sponging up rain out on the porch or the fact they hadn’t showered after they moved the dead body. Mandy had never come so hard or so often.
She packed the bong for Bo and told him where to find the cereal.
“You sure do have some hospitality around here,” Bo said.
“You’re the one who came in to save me. Talk about the kindness of strangers.”
“Hey, Steve was there too.”
“Yeah. But you stood up to my dad. I’ll never forget that, Joe.”
“It’s Bo.”
“Right. Bo.” She stood. “Well, off to dig up my mother.”
Bo let the shower run hot and long. Feeling mellow and good he let his thoughts drift to the money. Slick would be after it. Bo knew he should let it go. He did fuck up and get caught. And yes, he did rat out Slick without so much as an arm twist from the cops, but he still did the job and now he faced a life on the run, the same as Slick. Surely he deserved his cut to help him get by until he could start over.
After his shower Bo scoped out the medicine cabinets. Nothing. Not even an expired Tylenol. Five blue Viagra pills were the most interesting things in the place. This day and age who didn’t have at least some Zoloft sitting around?
He ran through the dad’s closet and found a pair of jeans that fit well with a tightly cinched belt and a plaid flannel shirt that wasn’t hideous. The shoes didn’t fit so he had to hope his stolen pair from last night had dried.
When he got downstairs Steve stood by the French doors watching Mandy dig muddy holes in the back yard. Bo assumed it was Steve who had pulled the cover off the grill and draped it over the body.
“So . . .,” Bo started. Steve didn’t turn. “. . . I’m gonna be heading out.”
“Thanks, man. Seriously.” Steve turned to face Bo. “I would have just run home. She would have gotten a hell of a beating. You might have saved her life.”
“Aw, bullshit. We did what was right.” He nodded to Mandy. “You think she’s gonna find anything?”
“No. Her dad might have killed her mom but he isn’t dumb enough to bury her out back. He’d have taken her somewhere far away. Mandy gets something in her mind though, kinda hard to shake her of it.”
“I know what you mean.” They watched her dig. She stomped on the shovel with her foot to lift heavy, water-logged clumps of yard and toss them aside. She dug with no rhyme or reason, random gopher holes every five or six feet. Bo could see her lips moving, talking to herself.
“Hey, you never know,” Bo said. “Maybe she’ll find buried treasure.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“Take it easy, man.”
“You too.”
Bo stopped by the front door and lifted a dark green J. Crew jacket off a hook. The kind of coat made for working outdoors and owned by people who never did. He held it up to Steve. “Do you mind?”
“No, take it. It was her dad’s.”
“Thanks.” It fit one size too large, but it would keep him warm.
“So where you headed?”
“Off to find my own treasure.”
Steve smiled. Bo walked out the front door.
CHAPTER 12
––––––––
T he Priest moved slowly and with routine. His morning ritual that had gone unobserved by anyone for years was now being spied on by Slick peering through a gap between two pews. The Priest’s white hair and slow movements showed his age and the serenity of faith.
The Priest set out items on the altar Slick couldn’t see. His soft-soled shoes padded quietly on the marble floors and occasionally squeaked when he turned. He said prayers aloud, but quiet. Slick heard snippets of Latin.
Then the Priest cut a fart. Hey, when you think you’re alone . . .
It wasn’t loud enough to wake anyone up, but it was just the thing to let the nun know someone else had entered the sanctuary. She started thrashing and kicking the wood walls of the confessional. Slick flattened himself to the bench.
The Priest turned at the commotion. His face turned confused and concerned but
She packed the bong for Bo and told him where to find the cereal.
“You sure do have some hospitality around here,” Bo said.
“You’re the one who came in to save me. Talk about the kindness of strangers.”
“Hey, Steve was there too.”
“Yeah. But you stood up to my dad. I’ll never forget that, Joe.”
“It’s Bo.”
“Right. Bo.” She stood. “Well, off to dig up my mother.”
Bo let the shower run hot and long. Feeling mellow and good he let his thoughts drift to the money. Slick would be after it. Bo knew he should let it go. He did fuck up and get caught. And yes, he did rat out Slick without so much as an arm twist from the cops, but he still did the job and now he faced a life on the run, the same as Slick. Surely he deserved his cut to help him get by until he could start over.
After his shower Bo scoped out the medicine cabinets. Nothing. Not even an expired Tylenol. Five blue Viagra pills were the most interesting things in the place. This day and age who didn’t have at least some Zoloft sitting around?
He ran through the dad’s closet and found a pair of jeans that fit well with a tightly cinched belt and a plaid flannel shirt that wasn’t hideous. The shoes didn’t fit so he had to hope his stolen pair from last night had dried.
When he got downstairs Steve stood by the French doors watching Mandy dig muddy holes in the back yard. Bo assumed it was Steve who had pulled the cover off the grill and draped it over the body.
“So . . .,” Bo started. Steve didn’t turn. “. . . I’m gonna be heading out.”
“Thanks, man. Seriously.” Steve turned to face Bo. “I would have just run home. She would have gotten a hell of a beating. You might have saved her life.”
“Aw, bullshit. We did what was right.” He nodded to Mandy. “You think she’s gonna find anything?”
“No. Her dad might have killed her mom but he isn’t dumb enough to bury her out back. He’d have taken her somewhere far away. Mandy gets something in her mind though, kinda hard to shake her of it.”
“I know what you mean.” They watched her dig. She stomped on the shovel with her foot to lift heavy, water-logged clumps of yard and toss them aside. She dug with no rhyme or reason, random gopher holes every five or six feet. Bo could see her lips moving, talking to herself.
“Hey, you never know,” Bo said. “Maybe she’ll find buried treasure.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“Take it easy, man.”
“You too.”
Bo stopped by the front door and lifted a dark green J. Crew jacket off a hook. The kind of coat made for working outdoors and owned by people who never did. He held it up to Steve. “Do you mind?”
“No, take it. It was her dad’s.”
“Thanks.” It fit one size too large, but it would keep him warm.
“So where you headed?”
“Off to find my own treasure.”
Steve smiled. Bo walked out the front door.
CHAPTER 12
––––––––
T he Priest moved slowly and with routine. His morning ritual that had gone unobserved by anyone for years was now being spied on by Slick peering through a gap between two pews. The Priest’s white hair and slow movements showed his age and the serenity of faith.
The Priest set out items on the altar Slick couldn’t see. His soft-soled shoes padded quietly on the marble floors and occasionally squeaked when he turned. He said prayers aloud, but quiet. Slick heard snippets of Latin.
Then the Priest cut a fart. Hey, when you think you’re alone . . .
It wasn’t loud enough to wake anyone up, but it was just the thing to let the nun know someone else had entered the sanctuary. She started thrashing and kicking the wood walls of the confessional. Slick flattened himself to the bench.
The Priest turned at the commotion. His face turned confused and concerned but
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