Charlie Huston - The Shotgun Rule

– Two.

Hector opens the cap and takes out the pills and hands them over and watches as his dad washes them down with the water.

He puts the glass aside and cuts one of the sausages with his fork and pushes a piece of it around in his beans.

– What did you lie to your mama about?

– Nothing, Pop.

He puts the sausage and beans in his mouth.

– And now you’re lying to me ?

– No.

– Yes. Yes, you are.

He swallows the food.

– Go on. You came here to get some food, to change your clothes, to do that thing to your hair. Go on. Do the things you came here for. But don’t come to my house and lie to my wife. You come home when you want to, I am not an animal, my son has a home, I don’t kick my son out no matter what he does. But don’t come home to break your mother’s heart. Go on, go take care of your things. Just get out of the kitchen before you tell another lie.

– Pop.

– Go on, get out.

Hector puts a hand on his mother’s shoulder.

– Ma, I didn’t.

She shakes her head, brushes her hand in the air, doesn’t look at him.

– Go on now, Hector, like your father says. Go on, it will be better right now.

– But.

His father bangs his cane on the floor.

– You heard your mama, go on. Go be with your friends and listen to your music. Go tell lies in their homes.

Hector squeezes his mom’s shoulder.

– I’m sorry, Ma.

She smiles, but doesn’t say anything.

His father points at a cabinet.

– Where’s my wine?

Hector leaves the kitchen.

– Look at the bad penny.

– Hey, Amy.

– Don’t let the cat out! Don’t let the damn cat out!

Jeff sticks his leg in front of the cat, blocking its path, and snags it by the scruff.

– Got ’im.

He dangles the cat.

She puts her Marlboro 100 in her mouth and holds out her arms.

– Easy, easy, he’s a old cat.

She takes the cat and rubs her ear against its neck.

– Aren’t you? Just a little old man, aren’t you?

She turns and walks back into the house.

– You comin’ in?

– Yeah, sure.

Jeff follows her, watching her ass under the tight white jeans.

She climbs inside the bell of a wicker chair that dangles from the ceiling by a heavy chain, crossing her legs and putting the cat in her lap.

– What’s up, what you looking for?

He settles on a Spirit of ’76 souvenir beanbag from the bicentennial, the white patches turned gray by the years.

– They got me doin’ splits again.

– Shit.

– Yeah. Graveyards, I can take a couple ludes the first few mornings, get used to sleeping during the day. This half and half shit, don’t know when I’m up and when I’m down.

– Need help with the ups, huh?

– Supervisor drove by this parking lot, a parking lot I’m fucking protecting, I was crashed out. Finds me asleep again, says he’s gonna suspend me. At least. Like I care if I lose the job.

– Uh huh. Want to get high?

– Yeah.

Amy points at an ashtray on the floor.

– There’s a roach in there.

– Got a clip?

She bends forward, sticking her head out of the wicker cocoon, the chair tilting beneath her.

– Here.

She turns her head to the side and Jeff removes the feathered clip from her ponytail, opens the alligator jaws and places the roach between them.

He lights up, takes a hit and offers it to her.

– You in?

She waves the joint away.

– Go ahead, I already did a wake and bake. Got to be at the hospital in a hour. Doubling up my shift. Get too wasted and I’ll be taking naps on the gurneys.

– I hear that.

She watches Jeff blow the roach.

Cute guy. He’d been a serious maybe at one time. Back in high school he’d been a definite yes. But she’d been Bob’s little sister, fucker hadn’t even noticed her. Not till her tits popped, then he noticed all right. By then she knew what she had, didn’t need to be screwing her big brother’s biker buds. But he’d stayed on the maybe list for a long time. If he’d tried a little harder he’d probably have got in. Made out that one time when they got drunk together on wine cooler. But some of the skanks he’s walked out of the Rodeo Club with? Who wants to be on that list?

Still, he did give a good back rub. And he’s a great kisser. And when she passed out he didn’t even try to fingerbang her or anything.

So he’s not on the serious maybe list, but he’s not on the no fucking way list either.

She adjusts a bra strap, moves the cat so he hides the tummy she started getting in the last two years.

– Whites OK?

She pulls a baggie from under the chair’s seat cushion.

Jeff sucks the roach dead.

– If that’s what you got. What I could really go for is some crank.

– Don’t got it.

– Not a little? Just a quarter for an old friend?

She leans back, deep inside the chair, her face disappearing in the shadows.

– I don’t fuck with that shit. You know that.

– It’s cool. I’m sorry. Just asking. No biggie.

– Why would you even ask that shit?

– No reason, just thought you might have changed the menu.

– Why? Where’d that idea come from? You ever hear me say anything about crank other than it’s a shitty high? I don’t deal in shitty highs. I’m a specialist, man. Pharmaceuticals. A little acid maybe. None of that cheap bathtub, do it yourself nose Drano.

– Got it, got it. I was out of line asking. Just.

– What?

– Nothing.

– Bullshit. Nothing. My ass. What?

Jeff opens and closes the roach clip, runs his fingers over the fluffy white and black feathers that hang from it on a suede cord.

– It’s nothing. No big deal. Just something I heard.

She leans forward, the cat jumps from her lap and scoots under the couch.

– You heard what?

Jeff stands, gets a Camel from his pocket.

– Those whites handy?

Amy unfolds her legs, sticks them out of the chair, looks up at him through dirty blonde bangs, the same shade as her nephews’. She holds out a hand.

– Jeff, come here, baby.

He steps closer, offers her the roach clip.

She takes the clip from him, drops it on the floor and holds his hand.

– Baby, how long we know each other?

He fiddles with his unlit cigarette.

– Long time.

She runs her thumb across the back of his hand, massages an old white scar that covers an entire knuckle.

– Since we were kids. When did you and my brother first start hanging out? What were you, like, thirteen? I would have been nine. That’s, what, over twenty years, man? That’s crazy. You ever think you’d know anybody more than twenty years?

Jeff puts the cigarette away and takes her hand between both of his.

– Baby, I never thought I’d be twenty. Trips me out all the time.

She swings a foot back and forth, the basket chair rocks slightly.

– Being over thirty just blows my mind. And the way things change. Like the shit Bob was into when I was, like, the good little sister. And now look at him, and look at me. A trip. And like you and Bob were best friends and I was just his kid sister and now you guys don’t ever see each other and me and you have been friends for a long time. Weird how that shit happens.

Jeff pulls lightly on her hand, adding to the chair’s motion, rocking her.

– I like that part, baby. A lot of it, getting older, most of it is a drag, but I like being closer with you.

She holds his hands tightly, pulls, drawing herself closer to him.