Mattingly"-they didn't see the door open or look over until they heard Vernice.
"Charlie, there's somebody to see you."
Vernice sounding like she didn't want to move her mouth.
"Yeah? Who is it?"
"ArlenNovis."
Standing right behind her in his hat. No, a different one. Arlen putting his hands on her hips now to move Vernice out of the way. He came in and she closed the door, staying out of it.
Arlen sat down at the table with them, no one saying a word, sat back in his chair staring at Dennis-Dennis staring back, getting a close look at the hat, one soldiers wore, not cowboys, military from another time, soiled and misshapen, a gold braid turned green around it instead of a band. Arlen said, "I finally got to see you dive. You're pretty good."
The man's eyes holding on him, not letting go.
Dennis stood up, turned to get the Early Times from the counter and placed it on the table. Sitting down again he said, "How would you know if I'm good or not?"
Arlen turned his head to Charlie. "You better introduce us."
"I know who you are," Dennis said. "What I don't understand is why you're telling people I was on the ladder when you shot Floyd. You make it a funny story? I'm so scared I'm shaking the ladder?"
Arlen seemed surprised. He did. But then gave Dennis his stare and was about to speak when he looked up.
Vernice was in the doorway again.
She said, "Dennis, it's somebody for you."
Robert, leaving the highway, turning that shiny S-Type front end toward downtown 'Tunica-where small-town friendliness was still a way of life-had been thinking about Jerry and his uniform and all the shit that went with it: the boots, the sword, the pair of revolvers, big.36 caliber Navy Colts. He had watched Jerry put the uniform on--cut by his tailor-and pose, the guinea hard-on trying to look like General Grant. The likeness was close, but not all the way there till he put the hat on. Hey, now, with the beard, the beard making it, the motherfucker was U. S. Grant in person.
It was the idea of getting dressed up that had drawn Jerry into the deal, the man having just enough a sense of humor the idea worked for him. Robert telling him, "Man, you get to wear a uniform, carry a sword." It might've been the sword closed the deal. Jerry saying, "You know, I never used a sword before." Then maybe thinking about the different weapons he had used, from baseball bats to car bombs. The man even knew things about the Civil War he saw on TV.
School Street.
Robert made the turn and saw he believed two cars in front of the house, coasted up the block and pulled in behind the second car, his headlights telling him it was the '96 Dodge Stratus back again. Worth five bills at a chop shop.
Hmmmm.
Robert got out of the jag. Then reached into the back for his attache case.
Chapter 10
CHARLIE BELIEVED HE LIKED THE WAY this game was opening up, seeing Robert as a new pitcher coming in who didn't have a bad arm. Threw one seventy miles an hour on his third try.
"You know Dennis," Charlie said, "world champion diver. And that's ArlenNovis. Arlen was a sheriff's deputy till he went to prison." Charlie got Robert seated, facing Arlen across the length of the table, Arlen putting his stare on Robert the whole time. Neither one bothered to reach out to shake hands. Charlie motioned to the briefcase Robert held on his lap. "Can I put that out of the way?"
Robert said no, he'd set it here on the floor.
"Beer, whiskey, a soft drink?"
Robert said the Early Times would do fine and Charlie put ice in a glass for him. They were all set and Charlie said, "Well now . . .
And Robert said to ArlenNovis in his pleasant way, "I see you're wearing the authentic Confederate slouch hat. Looks good on you. Like it's been to war."
Arlen took the hat by the curled part of the brim and adjusted it to his head, the way men did who wore hats, but didn't say thank you, didn't say anything, and Robert kept talking.
"I saw you out by the diving tank yesterday evening? That
"Charlie, there's somebody to see you."
Vernice sounding like she didn't want to move her mouth.
"Yeah? Who is it?"
"ArlenNovis."
Standing right behind her in his hat. No, a different one. Arlen putting his hands on her hips now to move Vernice out of the way. He came in and she closed the door, staying out of it.
Arlen sat down at the table with them, no one saying a word, sat back in his chair staring at Dennis-Dennis staring back, getting a close look at the hat, one soldiers wore, not cowboys, military from another time, soiled and misshapen, a gold braid turned green around it instead of a band. Arlen said, "I finally got to see you dive. You're pretty good."
The man's eyes holding on him, not letting go.
Dennis stood up, turned to get the Early Times from the counter and placed it on the table. Sitting down again he said, "How would you know if I'm good or not?"
Arlen turned his head to Charlie. "You better introduce us."
"I know who you are," Dennis said. "What I don't understand is why you're telling people I was on the ladder when you shot Floyd. You make it a funny story? I'm so scared I'm shaking the ladder?"
Arlen seemed surprised. He did. But then gave Dennis his stare and was about to speak when he looked up.
Vernice was in the doorway again.
She said, "Dennis, it's somebody for you."
Robert, leaving the highway, turning that shiny S-Type front end toward downtown 'Tunica-where small-town friendliness was still a way of life-had been thinking about Jerry and his uniform and all the shit that went with it: the boots, the sword, the pair of revolvers, big.36 caliber Navy Colts. He had watched Jerry put the uniform on--cut by his tailor-and pose, the guinea hard-on trying to look like General Grant. The likeness was close, but not all the way there till he put the hat on. Hey, now, with the beard, the beard making it, the motherfucker was U. S. Grant in person.
It was the idea of getting dressed up that had drawn Jerry into the deal, the man having just enough a sense of humor the idea worked for him. Robert telling him, "Man, you get to wear a uniform, carry a sword." It might've been the sword closed the deal. Jerry saying, "You know, I never used a sword before." Then maybe thinking about the different weapons he had used, from baseball bats to car bombs. The man even knew things about the Civil War he saw on TV.
School Street.
Robert made the turn and saw he believed two cars in front of the house, coasted up the block and pulled in behind the second car, his headlights telling him it was the '96 Dodge Stratus back again. Worth five bills at a chop shop.
Hmmmm.
Robert got out of the jag. Then reached into the back for his attache case.
Chapter 10
CHARLIE BELIEVED HE LIKED THE WAY this game was opening up, seeing Robert as a new pitcher coming in who didn't have a bad arm. Threw one seventy miles an hour on his third try.
"You know Dennis," Charlie said, "world champion diver. And that's ArlenNovis. Arlen was a sheriff's deputy till he went to prison." Charlie got Robert seated, facing Arlen across the length of the table, Arlen putting his stare on Robert the whole time. Neither one bothered to reach out to shake hands. Charlie motioned to the briefcase Robert held on his lap. "Can I put that out of the way?"
Robert said no, he'd set it here on the floor.
"Beer, whiskey, a soft drink?"
Robert said the Early Times would do fine and Charlie put ice in a glass for him. They were all set and Charlie said, "Well now . . .
And Robert said to ArlenNovis in his pleasant way, "I see you're wearing the authentic Confederate slouch hat. Looks good on you. Like it's been to war."
Arlen took the hat by the curled part of the brim and adjusted it to his head, the way men did who wore hats, but didn't say thank you, didn't say anything, and Robert kept talking.
"I saw you out by the diving tank yesterday evening? That
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