Charlie Huston - Six Bad Things

And we turn the corner and drive away, the trail of blood behind me stretched longer still.

WHEN I was a kid and I’d do something stupid, Dad would sit me down and ask me, “What were you thinking?” I’d shrug and say, “I dunno.” He’d nod and put a hand on my shoulder and say, “You weren’t thinking, were you?” And I’d say, “No, I wasn’t.” He’d tell me he knew I wasn’t thinking, because he knew I was a smart kid and if I stopped and thought things through, I’d do the smart thing. All I had to do was stop and think and I’d do the smart thing. Always.

How am I doing now, Dad?

I DRIVE us back to Boulder Highway, take a left, drive up the road, and pull into the first parking lot I see: The Boulder Station Hotel. I park the Chrysler near the other cars in the lot, leave the engine running, and reach under Sandy’s seat. The plastic bag snags on something and I give it a yank and it tears and the guns and the boxes of ammo spill out onto the floor next to Sandy’s feet. She gives a little shriek at the sight of the guns and pulls her feet up onto her seat as if the footwell were full of spiders. I flip the cylinder open on the Anaconda, pop open the box of Magnum shells, and start to load the revolver. My hands are still shaking, it’s hard to get the rounds in their chambers, but I manage. I close the cylinder and turn around in my seat and look out at the highway through the back window. I give it a couple minutes and see no sign of Rolf and Sid chasing us. I turn around.

Oh, my God. Oh please, Jesus. I close my eyes and see Terry crawling, trailing blood. Oh, Jesus, what have I done? I open my eyes and see the gun in my hand and raise it and press the barrel against my forehead.

– Jesus, oh, Jesus. Make it stop, please make it stop.

– Nonononononono.

Sandy is pressed against the passenger door, still in her kimono, blood still trickling from her mouth, staring at me, as I’m getting ready to kill myself. I pull the gun away from my head and drop it in the back-seat.

– It’s OK.

– Nonono.

– It’s OK, Sandy. It’s over. It’s OK.

I touch her. She closes her eyes.

– Sandy.

She whines.

– Sandy.

She opens one eye, like a kid who’s watching a horror movie and doesn’t want to see too much of the scary stuff.

– I’m not gonna hurt you.

I reach in my pocket and take out a pill.

– Take this. It’ll help.

– I TOLD you, Terry’s my boss, my dealer. And kind of my manager.

Oh, Christ.

– Your pimp, Sandy?

– No! My manager.

We’re still in the parking lot at Boulder Station, but the Perc has Sandy mellowed out. She’s in the backseat changing into clothes from her bag.

– I’m not a total cliche, Wade. He, he knows people at the big casinos, and I want to dance in a show, and he was helping me. He got me an audition at Bally’s for Jubilee! But they didn’t like my tattoos and I didn’t get the job. I’m tall enough and I have the tits and ass and I can dance, but once they get a look at my tattoos they say no go, and it costs a hundred times as much to get the things taken off as it does to have them put on. Fuckin’ tattoos.

She climbs into the front seat, now dressed in faded blue jeans, black Doc Martens, and a black AC/DC tank top.

– What else is Terry into, baby? What else does he do?

She wipes her eyes.

– Mostly he deals. He works for some people, I don’t know. The people he gets his grass from. And sometimes he does other stuff for them, like collections and stuff.

– What about the Russians? Do they know who I am? Do you know who I am?

She looks at me sideways.

– You’re Wade?

I let it go.

– Why was Terry there with those clowns?

– Because I called him.

– When?

– After we talked at the club, before I asked for a lift. I called Terry and told him you were looking for Timmy, and he told me to get you guys good and fucked-up and get you to come back to my house. But. But. But. You didn’t come, and I went back with T anyway and I told him to leave the dog in the car, but he wouldn’t, and then I said to put him in the garage, but he wouldn’t, but he locked him in the bathroom in my room, in the master bedroom and then I got him to lie on the bed and handcuffed him to the frame like I was gonna strip for him, and then Terry came in and started asking T about Timmy, why he was looking for Timmy and who you were and why you were looking for Timmy, and T didn’t know anything, and Terry, he had those hicks with him, and they started beating on T. And. And. And. I like T. I didn’t want him to get hurt. And. And. And.

She’s gasping for breath.

– Easy, take it easy.

She rubs the heels of her hands into her eyes.

– Terry made me call you to try and get you to come over, but you wouldn’t, and that pissed him off, and he was also pissed because T and the dog wouldn’t shut up and the dog wouldn’t stop barking and he couldn’t do anything about the dog, but T was carrying a bunch of ludes and Terry forced a few down T’s throat and that knocked him out. And then. And then? And then we didn’t expect you until six or so and Terry had those fucking guys with him and he had been, he met them at Circus Circus and was supposed to set them up with a couple hookers and when he got the call from me he asked if they wanted to make a couple bucks instead and they had gotten wiped out at the craps table so they went out to their truck and got that gun and that bow thing and Terry drove them over in his Cruiser and we had to wait for you and they were bored and wanted to leave and they thought I was a hooker and wanted Terry to make something happen for them and they kept grabbing at me and Terry made me give them all of T’s crank and my Veuve and then you just showed up. And? And?

She runs a hand through her hair.

– God, I love Percs. Got any more?

– Later. What happened when we showed up?

– Nothing. Oh, except Terry got pissed again, but he’s always getting pissed and flexing his muscles like he invented them. I mean, he’s mostly an OK guy, but he was really bad today because nothing was working the way he wanted it to and that’s like one of his big things, bitching about how things don’t work the way they’re supposed to. Also? He has those guys there to show off in front of and he was doing crank and he’s already high-strung from the ’roids so that wasn’t a great idea and then you show up and I look out the peephole and you have those guys and he was all Nothing works the way it’s supposed to, and then he told me to only let you in, but you brought those guys and…

She shrugs. That was that.

– Besides, I think he’s scared of the Russian.

Who isn’t?

– What about the Russian? What do you know?

– Nothing. Except Terry’s bosses told him to help out finding Timmy, so he called him, the Russian, after I called about you, and he told Terry to get ahold of you, and Terry called him from my place to say you’d be there around six, and then after you showed up early, he called him again to say you were there. I think. But that’s all I know.

I look at her.

She doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t even know who I am. And if she did? All she could tell anyone is that I’m in Vegas. And it seems that everyone already knows that. I reach across her and unlock her door.

– You can go.

Her jaw drops.

– And do what? Go home? I’m not going back to that place. And who knows who’ll find me if I go to the club? So fuck you, Wade. You kidnapped me and you are fucking stuck with me. You’re the pro, you’re the one who knows what you’re doing, so I’m sticking with you until those psychos you let in my house are out of the picture.