and, to be honest, kind of dopey; he was practically dancing for the big, bearded man. “I don’t get it,” said Libby.
Billie laughed. “I wish you were here,” she said. “Oh, how I wish you were here. Because then you could see Victor’s ears burning off his head.”
Libby could, in fact, hear Victor Ibañez cackling in the background.
“Do me a favor, Billie,” Libby said. “Don’t start anything, not at my expense.” Libby hated sounding like a prude, but Victor had a mind like a nuclear reactor. The tiniest piece of fodder was all it took for him to conjure an outrageous scenario he then would trumpet as fact. “I have to live in this town.”
“Okay, okay,” said Billie.
“I’m just trying to keep my head up as—”
“
Now
we’ve upset her,” Billie said to Victor. To Libby, she said, “I’ll shut up.” Long pause. “There, I’ve shut up.”
Libby didn’t answer. Frank had started to move. As he lumbered toward the truck, he looked like a large, upright animal in overalls, a panda or giant sloth.
“I’m only looking after your best interests,” said Billie. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I wanted you to check out the valley’s most eligible bachelor.”
“They’re leaving now,” said Libby.
“Do you have time for breakfast at Yolie’s?”
Surely she deserved some compensation for the early-morning adrenaline bath. “Order me
chilaquiles
,” she said.
R ITO was a tiny town, and brown, the few buildings industrial brick. Red pulled to a stop at the Ibañez Grocería; he wanted cigarettes, and also to call the farm, he said, to tell them that Lewis wasn’t AWOL but with him, and safe. Across the street, a man was sweeping the sidewalk in front of Happy Yolanda’s. “Our illustrious mayor,” said Red. “You mind staying here, keeping an eye on Frank?”
“No,” Lewis lied, even as he craved a retail moment. Unless you counted using the cigarette machine at the Blue House, he’d gone over two weeks without a single cash exchange—no doubt his personal record, considering he usually hit several convenience stores and coffee shops a day. Besides, if Frank chose to toddle off, he could do so at will; he had a good eighty pounds on Lewis, not to mention the ineluctability of a mudslide.
Lewis nevertheless sat in the warm cab and watched as the mayor swept dirt into a yellow dustpan and carried it to the trash can on the corner, where he paused. Then, carefully lifting the can, he upended it until a small yellow possum scuttled out, its tail pink as ham. Using his broom, the mayor nudged the creature down Main Street and into the azaleas at St. Catherine’s.
Red Ray emerged from the grocería with three to-go cups of coffee and trailed by a tall woman—six, six-one—dressed in muddy work clothes. Cheekbones like a shelf. Dark, flashing eyes. Curly black hair in a thick ponytail. She stuck her head in the truck’s open window, her face just inches away from Lewis’s. Her skin was smooth and white. “Hey, Frank, you old devil you,” she said, ignoring Lewis completely. “Have Red run you by Fat Judy’s, then maybe you’ll stop scaring all the gals.”
Frank clearly didn’t distinguish between inanimate and animate objects, even objects as animate as this woman. She couldn’t elicit a twitch from him. Pulling back, she gave Lewis an unabashed once-over. “Hey there,” she said. She had the kind of wide, beautiful mouth you see in toothpaste ads.
She looked to be about his age, thirty-four, thirty-five. Lewis nodded faintly and looked down, not keen to meet friendly, attractivewomen while sitting in the drunk-farm truck beside the drunk farm’s resident wet brain.
After giving him another moment to speak, the woman made a teasing, sour face and, waving to Red, crossed the street and slipped into Happy Yolanda’s.
“Billie Fitzgerald,” Red said, climbing into the cab and passing Lewis a cup of coffee.
“No way.” This was the so-called Amazon
Billie laughed. “I wish you were here,” she said. “Oh, how I wish you were here. Because then you could see Victor’s ears burning off his head.”
Libby could, in fact, hear Victor Ibañez cackling in the background.
“Do me a favor, Billie,” Libby said. “Don’t start anything, not at my expense.” Libby hated sounding like a prude, but Victor had a mind like a nuclear reactor. The tiniest piece of fodder was all it took for him to conjure an outrageous scenario he then would trumpet as fact. “I have to live in this town.”
“Okay, okay,” said Billie.
“I’m just trying to keep my head up as—”
“
Now
we’ve upset her,” Billie said to Victor. To Libby, she said, “I’ll shut up.” Long pause. “There, I’ve shut up.”
Libby didn’t answer. Frank had started to move. As he lumbered toward the truck, he looked like a large, upright animal in overalls, a panda or giant sloth.
“I’m only looking after your best interests,” said Billie. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I wanted you to check out the valley’s most eligible bachelor.”
“They’re leaving now,” said Libby.
“Do you have time for breakfast at Yolie’s?”
Surely she deserved some compensation for the early-morning adrenaline bath. “Order me
chilaquiles
,” she said.
R ITO was a tiny town, and brown, the few buildings industrial brick. Red pulled to a stop at the Ibañez Grocería; he wanted cigarettes, and also to call the farm, he said, to tell them that Lewis wasn’t AWOL but with him, and safe. Across the street, a man was sweeping the sidewalk in front of Happy Yolanda’s. “Our illustrious mayor,” said Red. “You mind staying here, keeping an eye on Frank?”
“No,” Lewis lied, even as he craved a retail moment. Unless you counted using the cigarette machine at the Blue House, he’d gone over two weeks without a single cash exchange—no doubt his personal record, considering he usually hit several convenience stores and coffee shops a day. Besides, if Frank chose to toddle off, he could do so at will; he had a good eighty pounds on Lewis, not to mention the ineluctability of a mudslide.
Lewis nevertheless sat in the warm cab and watched as the mayor swept dirt into a yellow dustpan and carried it to the trash can on the corner, where he paused. Then, carefully lifting the can, he upended it until a small yellow possum scuttled out, its tail pink as ham. Using his broom, the mayor nudged the creature down Main Street and into the azaleas at St. Catherine’s.
Red Ray emerged from the grocería with three to-go cups of coffee and trailed by a tall woman—six, six-one—dressed in muddy work clothes. Cheekbones like a shelf. Dark, flashing eyes. Curly black hair in a thick ponytail. She stuck her head in the truck’s open window, her face just inches away from Lewis’s. Her skin was smooth and white. “Hey, Frank, you old devil you,” she said, ignoring Lewis completely. “Have Red run you by Fat Judy’s, then maybe you’ll stop scaring all the gals.”
Frank clearly didn’t distinguish between inanimate and animate objects, even objects as animate as this woman. She couldn’t elicit a twitch from him. Pulling back, she gave Lewis an unabashed once-over. “Hey there,” she said. She had the kind of wide, beautiful mouth you see in toothpaste ads.
She looked to be about his age, thirty-four, thirty-five. Lewis nodded faintly and looked down, not keen to meet friendly, attractivewomen while sitting in the drunk-farm truck beside the drunk farm’s resident wet brain.
After giving him another moment to speak, the woman made a teasing, sour face and, waving to Red, crossed the street and slipped into Happy Yolanda’s.
“Billie Fitzgerald,” Red said, climbing into the cab and passing Lewis a cup of coffee.
“No way.” This was the so-called Amazon
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