spread-eagle on the floor of an auto-repair shop; with one pink-nailed hand she was inserting a small wrench into a place normally reserved for tools of a more sterile nature.
At last, Leon tossed his hero a can of Milwaukee’s Best.
He plopped down into one of the dented metal chairs at the table.
Nick sat across from him.
They sipped at their coldbeers for a minute or two.
Suddenly, Leon erupted with a shrill noise that was part lunatic giggle, part whooping redneck cheer. “Pinch me, ’cause I gotta be dreamin’. The Widowmaker is sittin’ in my kitchen!”
He knocked over his beer. It foamed out on the table. He blushed, set the can upright in time to salvage half of it.
Nick said, “You know those days are long gone, right? I’m not the Widowmaker anymore.”
“You’ll always be ’Maker to me, man. The greatest grappler who ever lived!”
“I appreciate that. But—”
“I coulda killed them sons-a-bitches for what they did to you. I followed your recovery in the rasslin’ mags. Kept up with the trial too, after you choked out McDouchebag. Man, that was awesome!”
“It wasn’t as ‘awesome’ as you think,” said Nick. “I lost my cool. It cost me everything.”
Leon puffed on his cigarette, waved one skinny arm around his home. “Yeah, well. It can’t be worse than this, can it?”
Nick finished off his beer. Crushed the can in one hand. “You wanna tell me what you were looking for back at the house?”
Leon made a face like he had bitten into something sour. His bloodshot eyes looked larger than ever behind his glasses. Nick could hear him grinding his teeth.
“No more bullshit, Leon. Time to start talking. Now.”
“It’s kinda embarrassin’.”
“I won’t judge.”
“I got this problem, see. A monkey on my back.”
“You were looking for drugs,” said Nick.
Leon hung his head, exhaled smoke through his nose.
Nick sat back, allowed him to tell his story even when he wanted to put the guy in a full-nelson headlock and roar: Would you get to the fucking point?
“Two years ago, my old lady walked out on me. I was a wreck. We’d been together for six years. I was workin’ for this septic tank company, always came home smellin’ like other people’s shit. Vonda hated it, said there had to be something better out there. I guess she found him. Last time I seen her, she’d hooked up with this Mexican fixes lawnmowers for a livin’.
“Wasn’t long after she dumped my ass I started messin’ around with meth. I ain’t proud of it, but it’s true. I quit the shit-tank gig, started workin’ graveyard over at the plastics plant. I was pullin’ double shifts, thought maybe I could save up some money and buy Vonda back. I tried to tell myself at first that I was just snortin’ the stuff to stay awake on the job—one time I didn’t sleep for twelve days straight , hoss—but the truth is, when I was tweakin’ I didn’t have a care in the world. Nothin’ mattered anymore except where that next bag o’ buzzard dust was comin’ from.”
Leon took a long drag off his cigarette.
“Your son-in-law, Eddie? He was the one who introduced me to the stuff.”
“He wasn’t my son-in-law,” said Nick.
“Anyway...he used to sell it. I guess that was a convenient arrangement for both of us, seein’ how we was neighbors.”
Nick said, “I also suspect it’s what got his head blown off.”
Once again, Leon had a hard time meeting the big man’s eyes. His hand trembled as he dropped his unfinished cigarette in a dirty cereal bowl. Its fire went out with a hiss.
“I figured the pigs cleaned out Eddie’s place, but maybe they missed somethin’. The sheriff had a patrol car watchin’ the house nonstop, the first couple weeks after what happened. Once it was gone, I couldn’t help myself, dude! I’ve been jonesin’ bad. Swear to God I was gonna put everything back like I found it. I didn’t mean no disrespect to your kin. I just wanted to get spun.”
“I
At last, Leon tossed his hero a can of Milwaukee’s Best.
He plopped down into one of the dented metal chairs at the table.
Nick sat across from him.
They sipped at their coldbeers for a minute or two.
Suddenly, Leon erupted with a shrill noise that was part lunatic giggle, part whooping redneck cheer. “Pinch me, ’cause I gotta be dreamin’. The Widowmaker is sittin’ in my kitchen!”
He knocked over his beer. It foamed out on the table. He blushed, set the can upright in time to salvage half of it.
Nick said, “You know those days are long gone, right? I’m not the Widowmaker anymore.”
“You’ll always be ’Maker to me, man. The greatest grappler who ever lived!”
“I appreciate that. But—”
“I coulda killed them sons-a-bitches for what they did to you. I followed your recovery in the rasslin’ mags. Kept up with the trial too, after you choked out McDouchebag. Man, that was awesome!”
“It wasn’t as ‘awesome’ as you think,” said Nick. “I lost my cool. It cost me everything.”
Leon puffed on his cigarette, waved one skinny arm around his home. “Yeah, well. It can’t be worse than this, can it?”
Nick finished off his beer. Crushed the can in one hand. “You wanna tell me what you were looking for back at the house?”
Leon made a face like he had bitten into something sour. His bloodshot eyes looked larger than ever behind his glasses. Nick could hear him grinding his teeth.
“No more bullshit, Leon. Time to start talking. Now.”
“It’s kinda embarrassin’.”
“I won’t judge.”
“I got this problem, see. A monkey on my back.”
“You were looking for drugs,” said Nick.
Leon hung his head, exhaled smoke through his nose.
Nick sat back, allowed him to tell his story even when he wanted to put the guy in a full-nelson headlock and roar: Would you get to the fucking point?
“Two years ago, my old lady walked out on me. I was a wreck. We’d been together for six years. I was workin’ for this septic tank company, always came home smellin’ like other people’s shit. Vonda hated it, said there had to be something better out there. I guess she found him. Last time I seen her, she’d hooked up with this Mexican fixes lawnmowers for a livin’.
“Wasn’t long after she dumped my ass I started messin’ around with meth. I ain’t proud of it, but it’s true. I quit the shit-tank gig, started workin’ graveyard over at the plastics plant. I was pullin’ double shifts, thought maybe I could save up some money and buy Vonda back. I tried to tell myself at first that I was just snortin’ the stuff to stay awake on the job—one time I didn’t sleep for twelve days straight , hoss—but the truth is, when I was tweakin’ I didn’t have a care in the world. Nothin’ mattered anymore except where that next bag o’ buzzard dust was comin’ from.”
Leon took a long drag off his cigarette.
“Your son-in-law, Eddie? He was the one who introduced me to the stuff.”
“He wasn’t my son-in-law,” said Nick.
“Anyway...he used to sell it. I guess that was a convenient arrangement for both of us, seein’ how we was neighbors.”
Nick said, “I also suspect it’s what got his head blown off.”
Once again, Leon had a hard time meeting the big man’s eyes. His hand trembled as he dropped his unfinished cigarette in a dirty cereal bowl. Its fire went out with a hiss.
“I figured the pigs cleaned out Eddie’s place, but maybe they missed somethin’. The sheriff had a patrol car watchin’ the house nonstop, the first couple weeks after what happened. Once it was gone, I couldn’t help myself, dude! I’ve been jonesin’ bad. Swear to God I was gonna put everything back like I found it. I didn’t mean no disrespect to your kin. I just wanted to get spun.”
“I
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