Suder by Percival Everett Page B

in the middle of nowhere?”
    â€œIf you don’t do it, I will.”
    â€œYou’ll what?”
    â€œI’ll kill you,” he says.
    I laugh.
    â€œI ain’t bullshittin’.”
    I stop laughing. “Now, Sid….”
    â€œWhat do you have to live for? Luck has decided you’re the greatest patsy since the Jews.” He stands up. “So, after this morning’s business, I’ll put an end to your miserable, pathetic life.”
    There’s the sound of a foghorn outside and Sid scurries up the steps to the deck. I follow him and I see another boat and Sid is waving to them with both arms.
    There are two fat men on the other boat who look sorta alike. Both of the men are about forty and their haircuts are short and greased back and they’ve got slippery black mustaches. The fat men are wearing them loud beach shirts and big baggy white pants. There are two younger men with them, big and muscular fellas, in trunks. Their boat pulls alongside of us.
    â€œSid,” says one of the fat man, stepping aboard, extending a hand.
    Sid takes the man’s plump hand. “On time, as usual.”
    The other fat man is staring at me. “Who’s he?” he asks, pointing.
    â€œHe’s a friend of mine,” Sid says.
    â€œWhich drum?” asks the first fat man.
    â€œThat one.” Sid points to the drum nearest the back of the boat.
    The first fat man signals to the two big guys in the trunks. They hop across to Sid’s boat and walk to the drum. They turn the drum upright and pry the lid off and then one of them reaches down into the barrel and comes up with a dripping green plastic garbage bag. He opens the bag and pulls out a clear plastic bag of white powder. The big guy hands it over to the first fat man.
    â€œCome on, let’s go,” says the second fat man, looking around.
    â€œIn a second,” the first fat man says, looking at Sid, who’s standing by, watching with his hands in his pockets.
    â€œThe money,” Sid says.
    â€œIn a second,” the first man repeats.
    Sid pulls a gun out of his pocket. “The money.”
    â€œSid, slow down,” says the first fat man, “you’ll get your money.”
    â€œThe money,” Sid repeats, extending his free hand, palm up, pointing the gun at the second fat man. “Or I’ll blow your brother’s greasy head off.”
    â€œWhat is this, Sid?” asks the first fat man.
    â€œThis is the Little Bighorn. This is where the Indian cuts the white boy’s tail.”
    The second fat man tosses a briefcase across the gap between the two boats and it lands by my feet.
    â€œGood,” Sid says. “Okay. Now, you two, Fric and Frac, I want you overboard. Craig, check the case.”
    The two guys in trunks don’t move. I open the case and tilt it, showing Sid the money inside.
    Sid fires the gun over the big guys’ heads. “Move!”
    The two men jump into the water.
    â€œSid, you won’t get away with this,” says the second fat man.
    â€œIn the water, chubby,” Sid says and pulls the hammer of the pistol back.
    The second fat man jumps into the ocean.
    I look and see another boat coming our way. Sid sees it also. “Shit,” Sid says. “Okay, fatso, in the drink.”
    â€œSo help me God, I’m going to get you, Sid.”
    â€œYeah, yeah.” Sid straightens his arm and aims the gun at the fat man’s face. “Tell it to the Coast Guard.” The first fat man joins the others in the water. The four of them are bobbing up and down between the boats and Sid is leaning over, looking at them. “I got you, you son of a bitch.” He looks at the approaching boat. “Start the boat, Craig.”
    I climb up the ladder and start the engine.
    â€œLet’s get out of here!” Sid yells to me.
    I steer the boat away and then I look back and Sid is still leaning over, yelling at the men in