Rust On the Razor by Mark Richard Zubro Page A

around in the middle of the night. Then again, I didn’t want to be executed for murder.
    Giggling and laughing, they stumbled into the car. Violet started the engine.
    â€œI don’t want to go anywhere,” Cody said. “Thought we were just going to visit out here.”

    She patted him and said, “We’ve got to talk.” When she pulled out of the parking lot onto the dirt road, she said, “Tom?”
    I sat up.
    If Cody was drunk, his reaction didn’t show it. In seconds I was looking down the barrel of a gun.
    â€œPut that away, Cody,” Violet said. “We just want to talk to you. Where did you get that?”
    â€œUnder my shirt in back. I don’t go out to Rebel Hell without it. Crowd out here is tough.”
    â€œPut it away,” she said. “He’s not going to hurt you and neither am I.”
    He lowered the gun a few inches. “What is this bullshit?”
    â€œI didn’t kill the sheriff,” I said.
    â€œThat’s what they all say—‘I didn’t do it.’ If your pal didn’t have connections, you’d be safely in jail.”
    â€œMy connections say you dance naked in Atlanta on the first and third Saturdays of every month.”
    The gun barrel reached much farther up my nostril than I ever thought it would go. I squirmed backwards.
    Violet yelled, “Stop that, Cody!”
    Cody followed my movement back and was half over the seat. The car swerved violently. Cody lurched off balance for a moment. I grabbed the hand with the gun and smashed it against the roof of the car. I’d had just about enough of fear. If the guy didn’t dance, I’d be dead. I smashed the hand again and the gun dropped to the floor of the backseat. I did not pick it up.
    Cody was sore. “You mother-fucking son of a bitch, I’ll arrest you for resisting arrest, for attacking a police officer, and for kidnapping a cop! Don’t think I wouldn’t arrest you too, Violet. You won’t get away with this.”
    I said, “I’ve got directions to the address in Atlanta, Violet. If they recognize him at the dance club, we’ll be fine.” If not, I thought, we might as well just keep driving
until we get to the moon. I suspected kidnapping a Georgia police officer was a crime heavily frowned upon in this jurisdiction.
    Violet drove through Brinard and took the road west toward the interstate. We were silent through two counties.
    As Violet swung around another courthouse square, Cody said, “You don’t have to do this.”
    In the light from the dash I could see his brown hair and brown eyes and firm jaw. The hand I’d smashed trembled a little. From the pain or from fear?
    â€œCody, I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to bring trouble to you. I’d rather not get information or help from you by threats and coercion. I just need help.”
    â€œI’m not gay,” he said.
    â€œHow’d you wind up dancing?” Violet asked.
    He was silent a minute and then said, “A buddy from the police academy came down to go hunting with me. He told me about this bar, said the guys who danced made a lot of money from fat old desperate fags. Said at least half the guys who danced there were straight, but did it just for the money and laughs. I guess I asked more questions than most. He wrote the address on a card and said they were very discreet. Deputy sheriff in this county don’t pay much. I went up there once and they hired me.”
    â€œYou didn’t have to put out for the owner?” I asked.
    â€œHe’s straight. It’s strictly money to him.”
    â€œYou let guys paw you. You hug and kiss them in public. They grab your dick, and my source says you charge huge amounts of money for after-hours personal parties. Sounds kind of gay to me.”
    â€œI’m straight.”
    Violet said, “I’m not sure I care who either of you choose to