silk.”
“What
are you gonna do to me?” she giggled.
More
stirrings — deep, nervous ones, the kind that always took control of him,
that always gave him the whimwhams. They began to drown his thoughts and slur his
speech.
“Oh,
that’s easy. First, I’m gonna take your sweet, sweet legs and I’m gonna put —”
“Okay,
I’m all set.” It was Garner, bag in hand, splashing cold water all over them. “Want
me to wait outside or … or whatever?”
Eddie
cleared his throat, jumping back into the real world. “No. No, we’re ready to
go now. I’ll pay the check. Y’all go on out to the car.”
Outside,
Eddie opened the trunk. As Garner put his bag in alongside Eddie’s and Felina’s,
he said, “Say, that’s some old suitcase you got there, Eddie. Real leather,
with those buckles, like they used to make ‘em. You must’ve had that one quite
a while.”
“Yeah.
Quite a while.” He slammed the trunk shut.
11
T hey stayed on
the old road, away from the Interstate, drifting through the lovely, lazy towns
of south Louisiana. New Iberia, Jeanerette, Morgan City. All were quiet in the
deep afternoon, their low, flat buildings somehow blending with the bearded
oaks and pecan trees spread-eagled beneath a reddening sky.
All
through this silent backdrop, Lowell Garner yakked and yakked from the back
seat. He wouldn’t shut up.
“Yep,”
he said, “I used to have four clubs in central Texas. Smallest one seated
eighteen hundred. Willie Nelson played all four of ‘em several times — he’s
a good friend of mine, you know. I been knowing Willie for about twenty-five
years now.”
“Ooh,
Willie Nelson,” said Felina. “He’s really big.”
Garner
tossed off a smug grin. “No brag here, young lady, but the money really did
roll in pretty good for a while. And I’d still be in the damn saddle if I’d’a
kept my eyes open. But that’s what happens, you know, when you get to a certain
position, when you get a little bit o’ success.”
“What
do you mean, Mr Garner? she asked.
“Well,
you know, you start thinking that the top of the pile is all yours by divine
right. Like you’ll be there forever. You get to feeling that nothing can touch
you. And you forget what put you there in the first place. Hard work and sharp
eyes! Yessir. Hard work and sharp eyes, especially in the back of your head.”
Eddie
reflexively eyed the rear view mirror. Felina seemed to be listening, and
increasingly Garner directed his monologue toward her, in search of an
audience. Eddie tried rolling
down his window, hoping to drown him out with road noise, but no luck.
“`Course,”
Garner went on, “I like to make a bet on an occasional football game, too. And
you know, that doesn’t usually help the ol’ finances.”
The old finances , Eddie thought. Occasional bets! That’s what put me here in the first place. If only
the goddam Dodgers … I’d …
Then
Felina’s words came floating back to him: We’re millionaires.
Hmph. What good’s all this dough if I can’t
spend it?
His
foot remained steady on the gas, but his insides rolled over. He was fearful,
mortally fearful, of the tracking that by now had surely begun. But of course,
he would never know the status of the hunt, nor even the identity of his
pursuers, apart from Raymond Cannetta and Val. He was certain, however, that
they would never quit. And he knew that they carried with them the assurance of
long, horrible death, with no compromise. Only in the deepest, darkest corners
could he hope to find a sometime-sanctuary from the sweeping beams of their
searchlights.
The
thing was, nobody made him do this. It’d be a damn sight easier to deal with
this whole thing if he only had someone to blame. But he’d walked into this
bargain with his eyes open, then closed the door behind him. Now it gnawed at
him like a dentist’s drill that just wouldn’t stop.
Exactly
what did he think he was going to do with all
“What
are you gonna do to me?” she giggled.
More
stirrings — deep, nervous ones, the kind that always took control of him,
that always gave him the whimwhams. They began to drown his thoughts and slur his
speech.
“Oh,
that’s easy. First, I’m gonna take your sweet, sweet legs and I’m gonna put —”
“Okay,
I’m all set.” It was Garner, bag in hand, splashing cold water all over them. “Want
me to wait outside or … or whatever?”
Eddie
cleared his throat, jumping back into the real world. “No. No, we’re ready to
go now. I’ll pay the check. Y’all go on out to the car.”
Outside,
Eddie opened the trunk. As Garner put his bag in alongside Eddie’s and Felina’s,
he said, “Say, that’s some old suitcase you got there, Eddie. Real leather,
with those buckles, like they used to make ‘em. You must’ve had that one quite
a while.”
“Yeah.
Quite a while.” He slammed the trunk shut.
11
T hey stayed on
the old road, away from the Interstate, drifting through the lovely, lazy towns
of south Louisiana. New Iberia, Jeanerette, Morgan City. All were quiet in the
deep afternoon, their low, flat buildings somehow blending with the bearded
oaks and pecan trees spread-eagled beneath a reddening sky.
All
through this silent backdrop, Lowell Garner yakked and yakked from the back
seat. He wouldn’t shut up.
“Yep,”
he said, “I used to have four clubs in central Texas. Smallest one seated
eighteen hundred. Willie Nelson played all four of ‘em several times — he’s
a good friend of mine, you know. I been knowing Willie for about twenty-five
years now.”
“Ooh,
Willie Nelson,” said Felina. “He’s really big.”
Garner
tossed off a smug grin. “No brag here, young lady, but the money really did
roll in pretty good for a while. And I’d still be in the damn saddle if I’d’a
kept my eyes open. But that’s what happens, you know, when you get to a certain
position, when you get a little bit o’ success.”
“What
do you mean, Mr Garner? she asked.
“Well,
you know, you start thinking that the top of the pile is all yours by divine
right. Like you’ll be there forever. You get to feeling that nothing can touch
you. And you forget what put you there in the first place. Hard work and sharp
eyes! Yessir. Hard work and sharp eyes, especially in the back of your head.”
Eddie
reflexively eyed the rear view mirror. Felina seemed to be listening, and
increasingly Garner directed his monologue toward her, in search of an
audience. Eddie tried rolling
down his window, hoping to drown him out with road noise, but no luck.
“`Course,”
Garner went on, “I like to make a bet on an occasional football game, too. And
you know, that doesn’t usually help the ol’ finances.”
The old finances , Eddie thought. Occasional bets! That’s what put me here in the first place. If only
the goddam Dodgers … I’d …
Then
Felina’s words came floating back to him: We’re millionaires.
Hmph. What good’s all this dough if I can’t
spend it?
His
foot remained steady on the gas, but his insides rolled over. He was fearful,
mortally fearful, of the tracking that by now had surely begun. But of course,
he would never know the status of the hunt, nor even the identity of his
pursuers, apart from Raymond Cannetta and Val. He was certain, however, that
they would never quit. And he knew that they carried with them the assurance of
long, horrible death, with no compromise. Only in the deepest, darkest corners
could he hope to find a sometime-sanctuary from the sweeping beams of their
searchlights.
The
thing was, nobody made him do this. It’d be a damn sight easier to deal with
this whole thing if he only had someone to blame. But he’d walked into this
bargain with his eyes open, then closed the door behind him. Now it gnawed at
him like a dentist’s drill that just wouldn’t stop.
Exactly
what did he think he was going to do with all
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