me. He was juiced but good, acting real friendly-like. “Steve know you’re in here, son? You ain’t supposed to be in here, don’t you know that?”
“Where’s he at, you know?” I figured maybe he was taking a leak.
“He ain’t here, Roy,” Fred informed me. He was talking like Norton again, but it wasn’t funny this time. Something weird was going on. I didn’t understand what it was but I could feel it.
“I thought y’all came together,” I said.
Roger sighted me over the lip of his National Bohemian.
“He done cut out of here a little while ago.” He grinned this big shit-eating grin like him and me were asshole buddies, and kicked out a vacant chair. “Sit down and have a brew, long’s you’re here.” He called over to a waitress. “A beer here for my buddy.”
The bartender came around the bar like a shot and stood over our table.
“He ain’t drinking beer in this establishment,” he told Roger. He reached over and grabbed me by the collar. “I done told you once, and I don’t like repeating myself. Now get on out of here.” He started pushing me towards the front door.
“I wouldn’t be messing with that boy, I was you,” Fred warned the bartender. He was talking like himself now. “His daddy liable to walk in here and stomp your ass.”
The bartender turned back to him, still holding me in this death grip he had.
“His daddy ain’t about to walk in here right now.”
One of the women laughed, nudged her companion.
“If junior’s cut out of the same cloth, I want some,” she said, looking at me right in the face. She was pretty drunk.
“Shut the fuck up,” Roger told her.
“Well, excuse me.” She really was drunk, her and the other woman, drunker than the men by a long shot.
“And you shut your goddamn mouth,” Roger warned the bartender. He turned to me. “He’s gone, Roy. You’ve got to go on home, son.”
I looked from one face to another. There was something going on they weren’t telling me.
“Go on.”
I walked out slowly, looking in the shadows, thinking maybe my old man would suddenly show up, but he didn’t.
I walked across the dark parking lot, scuffing the gravel with my feet. Maybe he’d got in trouble with somebody there and they didn’t want me to know about it.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a light kick on for a second. I looked over before it went off.
My old man’s car was all the way on the edge of the lot, half- hidden under some low oak trees. It’s a ’53 Merc, red and silver two-tone, real cherried out. He’d just bought it two months before on a repossession, a real good deal, some nigger had got behind on his payments and there was good old Steve to snatch it up. He had deniggerized it, of course, the mud flaps and shit like that, and it was looking fine. He’d even cleaned out the garage so he could overnight it inside.
I walked across the lot towards it. I’d known there was something weird going on, something the men inside hadn’t wanted to tell me.
A woman was laughing from inside the car. The window had been cracked a hair so it wouldn’t get all steamed up inside.
“Jesus! Oh no, no!” She was talking and laughing at the same time. “Oh God, oh God, no!”
That stopped me dead in my tracks. I was pretty close to the car, ten or fifteen feet away. I waited a minute, then I heard some more laughing coming from her. It had a cheap sound to it, like the cheap perfume they sell at the dime store.
Now I was angry. Scared, too, but more pissed off. I’d been lied to, by my old man’s friends inside and by my old man out here.
Quietly, I approached the car. The woman laughed again, and moaned, too. Then I heard a man’s voice. My dad’s.
“Not so loud, goddamnit,” he was telling her, trying to hush her up, “you’ll wake them up clear down to the District.”
“I can’t help it, the places you’re touching me. Anyway, I’m freezing to death out here.”
It was Peg, the woman from the
“Where’s he at, you know?” I figured maybe he was taking a leak.
“He ain’t here, Roy,” Fred informed me. He was talking like Norton again, but it wasn’t funny this time. Something weird was going on. I didn’t understand what it was but I could feel it.
“I thought y’all came together,” I said.
Roger sighted me over the lip of his National Bohemian.
“He done cut out of here a little while ago.” He grinned this big shit-eating grin like him and me were asshole buddies, and kicked out a vacant chair. “Sit down and have a brew, long’s you’re here.” He called over to a waitress. “A beer here for my buddy.”
The bartender came around the bar like a shot and stood over our table.
“He ain’t drinking beer in this establishment,” he told Roger. He reached over and grabbed me by the collar. “I done told you once, and I don’t like repeating myself. Now get on out of here.” He started pushing me towards the front door.
“I wouldn’t be messing with that boy, I was you,” Fred warned the bartender. He was talking like himself now. “His daddy liable to walk in here and stomp your ass.”
The bartender turned back to him, still holding me in this death grip he had.
“His daddy ain’t about to walk in here right now.”
One of the women laughed, nudged her companion.
“If junior’s cut out of the same cloth, I want some,” she said, looking at me right in the face. She was pretty drunk.
“Shut the fuck up,” Roger told her.
“Well, excuse me.” She really was drunk, her and the other woman, drunker than the men by a long shot.
“And you shut your goddamn mouth,” Roger warned the bartender. He turned to me. “He’s gone, Roy. You’ve got to go on home, son.”
I looked from one face to another. There was something going on they weren’t telling me.
“Go on.”
I walked out slowly, looking in the shadows, thinking maybe my old man would suddenly show up, but he didn’t.
I walked across the dark parking lot, scuffing the gravel with my feet. Maybe he’d got in trouble with somebody there and they didn’t want me to know about it.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a light kick on for a second. I looked over before it went off.
My old man’s car was all the way on the edge of the lot, half- hidden under some low oak trees. It’s a ’53 Merc, red and silver two-tone, real cherried out. He’d just bought it two months before on a repossession, a real good deal, some nigger had got behind on his payments and there was good old Steve to snatch it up. He had deniggerized it, of course, the mud flaps and shit like that, and it was looking fine. He’d even cleaned out the garage so he could overnight it inside.
I walked across the lot towards it. I’d known there was something weird going on, something the men inside hadn’t wanted to tell me.
A woman was laughing from inside the car. The window had been cracked a hair so it wouldn’t get all steamed up inside.
“Jesus! Oh no, no!” She was talking and laughing at the same time. “Oh God, oh God, no!”
That stopped me dead in my tracks. I was pretty close to the car, ten or fifteen feet away. I waited a minute, then I heard some more laughing coming from her. It had a cheap sound to it, like the cheap perfume they sell at the dime store.
Now I was angry. Scared, too, but more pissed off. I’d been lied to, by my old man’s friends inside and by my old man out here.
Quietly, I approached the car. The woman laughed again, and moaned, too. Then I heard a man’s voice. My dad’s.
“Not so loud, goddamnit,” he was telling her, trying to hush her up, “you’ll wake them up clear down to the District.”
“I can’t help it, the places you’re touching me. Anyway, I’m freezing to death out here.”
It was Peg, the woman from the
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