Read Online The Fat Artist and Other Stories by Benjamin Hale - Free Book Online Page B

I might not get a chance to call, so don’t expect it, just be ready anyway. And don’t, I repeat, don’t go busting nobody’s skull by accident cause you’re a jumpy motherfucker right now and you think they’re Caleb. I’m gonna keep him talkin, and you know his voice, right, and you know my voice, so that’s how you’re gonna know we’re coming. And I’m gonna make damn sure he’s walking in front a me so I aint the one that gets whacked by mistake. Main thing is, keep your fucking cool, Kelly. And then Kelly asks me if I can try and get Caleb out to the park by eleven so he can still get to work throwing newspapers, and I think that shit’s so fuckin funny I just laugh, but then he’s all like, I’m serious , dog, I can’t miss work. So I just say yeah, whatever, I’m gonna try and get him up there by eleven so you can beat his ass and still get to work. But here’s what I want you to do now, I say to Kelly. Huh? Yeah, we’re still at McDonald’s here. I say, go tell the boss you’re sick, you got to go home right now. You gotta go home cause the most important thing you gotta do now is get you some fucking sleep, dog. Rest up, cause you’re gonna need your energy, and you’re all nodding and shit right now, I can tell you’re tired. So Kelly says yeah, OK I’m gonna go home and get some sleep. We go back to work and he tells the boss he’s sick as a dog, and the boss is like, yeah, whatev, Kelly, you look like shit, go home. So he clocks out and I drive his ass home and drop him off. And we’re outside his house and all these dogs in the yard next door are going crazy barking and Kelly’s getting out of the car and I say, Kelly, promise me you get you some sleep. I don’t care fuckall what that bitch has got to say to you when you get in there, just tell her shut the fuck up, I got to get some sleep so I can think straight, you understand? And he says yeah, he promises me, but I can’t hardly hear his quietass voice cause of all them crazy dogs barking. So I get back to work and everybody is looking at me all like suspicious, cause they understand some kind of shit is up but they don’t know what, but I just say fuck all y’all, and I clam the fuck up and I don’t say a goddamn thing to nobody the whole rest of the day, except for shit like, hey, gimme that hammer. The end of the day comes and there’s this little bit of shit with the boss wanting me to work overtime cause with a man down that afternoon we didn’t get where we was supposed to, but I just say no, man, I got a date, can’t stay, sorry. I go back to my gramma’s house, say whatup and kiss her cheek and shit and I go downstairs and wash up and change clothes. I get in my good clothes which was a mistake cause they got all fucked up with blood later but that’s the least of my problems now. When I leave the house, all I got on me is a shirt and jeans and boots, forty bucks in my pocket, my phone and a pack of smokes. I take the bus downtown, eat a sandwich at Papa Jose’s and then I go to the Scumdowner and walk up to the bar and order a beer. There aint nobody in there at first cause it’s early, but more people start coming in and I just hang back and shoot some pool. And sooner or later I see this guy I know, Braden Boomsma. I know he knows Caleb. So I see this motherfucker from my past life and I just go up and say hey dog, whatup, and he says I hear you got out a jail a couple months back, and I say yeah, it’s good to be back. And then I say, hey, dog, you ever seen Caleb Quinn round here no more? Whatever happened to that dog? And he’s all like, naw, dog, I guess that just means you aint been to the Scumdowner much lately cause he still comes in here all the time. He’s working some job fixing swimming pools now. He gets off work about seven and he comes in here about a half hour later. He stick around all night? I say. He says, yeah, he stays a couple hours sometimes, sometimes he’s here till last call.