Ironman by Chris Crutcher

Luke raises his eyebrows and gives a limp wrist.
    â€œWhat? Where did you hear that?”
    â€œDoes he have a wife? A girlfriend?”
    â€œHell, I don’t know,” Bo says. “Dad, Mr. Serbousek is not a homo.”
    â€œNow how would you know that?”
    â€œI just know it, that’s all. Who told you that?”
    â€œThat’s not important. Just know this: It was a reliable source, as you journalistic types like to say.”
    Bo is once more amazed at how their conversations turn sour. “Well, it’s not true.”
    Luke sits forward, deadly serious. “You be careful of him, son. Damn careful. You never know what those guys have in mind.”
    â€œDad! Lion Serbousek is not a homosexual, okay?”
    â€œFirst-name basis,” Luke muses. Then, “You watch yourself, son.”
    â€œJesus, Dad…”
    â€œWhy don’t you run on home now? I’m sure your mom and your brother are holding up Christmas activities for you.”
    â€œDad—”
    â€œYou go ahead. Run along. I’m fine here.”
    â€œI know you’re fine. I just want to clear this…who told you that?”
    â€œGo.”
    Â 
    Nak intertwines his fingers over his knee and rocks slowly back on his desktop. “So, buckaroos, welcome back.”
    There are grunts.
    â€œEverbody have a good vacation? Ready to get back into the tough stuff?”
    More grunts.
    â€œAnybody tear down the family Christmas tree?”
    â€œCame close,” Joey says.
    Hudgie begins shaking his head continuously in slow motion. “No Christmas tree here, Mr. Nak. No Christmas tree. ‘Sorry, Hudge. No Christmas tree for you. Can’t have no Christmas tree, ’cause you’re gettin’ no Christmas. Wouldn’t be right. No Christmas, no tree. Ya done messed up your Christmas, boy.’” He stares through Nak. “Couldn’t tear it down, Mr. Nak. Wasn’t there to tear. Not there to tear.” Hudgie seems delighted with his primitive poetry. “Not there to tear,” he says again. “Would’ve,though. Would’ve teared it to the ground.”
    Shuja watches uneasily, hoping he’s not about to witness another Hudgie cave-in. He says, “Maybe nex’ year, my man. You hold out for a tree nex’ year, Hudge.”
    Hudgie looks at Shuja as though he’s never seen him before.
    Shuja says, “Mr. Nak…”
    â€œYou all right, Hudge? You with us?” Mr. Nak asks.
    Hudgie looks at his shoes and slowly nods his head.
    â€œGood. Now let’s git this show on the road. Who wants to start?”
    Elvis, chin in palms, elbows resting on knees, slowly, tentatively, straightens up and raises his hand.
    Nak says, “Still waitin’ for orders to ride on out of here?”
    â€œNo, man,” Elvis says back, uncharacteristically subdued. “I was just gonna let you in on Christmas at our house.”
    Nak says, “Shoot.”
    Elvis stares around the group, pausing at Bo to give a suspicious glare. Then, “My dad got a present from my sister. First time in twelve years.”
    Nak nods while the group waits. When Elvis doesn’t offer more, Nak says, “What was it?”
    Elvis’s gaze drops to his knees, then back. “It was a bullet.”
    â€œYour sister shoot your daddy?” Shuja asks.
    â€œNo,” Elvis says. “It was a present. Wrapped up and shit. My sister don’t live with us. I mean, she’s married, got kids.”
    Nak says, “Tell us about the present.”
    â€œWell, like I said, it was a bullet.”
    â€œAnd…”
    Elvis glances again at the faces of the group members. “Look, you said we could talk about anything, right? Like, it don’t have to be about some shit that pisses us off.”
    Nak says, “That’s right,” and the rest of the group falls even more silent. This is a different Elvis than the one any of