Joe Lansdale: Bad Chili

“You look like a black man again, instead of a gray man.”

“Well, I feel like an asshole. Hope you brought plenty to eat. I’m starved. Say, aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital? I mean, now that I notice, you don’t look so good yourself.”

“I got a cold.”

“You got out of the hospital for me, didn’t you, Hap?”

I told him what Charlie had told me. I told him about leaving the hospital. I told him Charlie was giving me a bit of time to sort things out.

“Goddamn,” Leonard said. “This has turned into one serious fiasco.”

“Thing is, it hasn’t gotten out of hand yet. Charlie’s keeping the connection between you and this biker’s murder to himself. But that won’t last. He’ll have to say something eventually, and who’s to say someone else won’t put it together? Once the connection is established, you better have a damn good idea what’s clickin’, and it better be plain as day.”

“I don’t know exactly what is clickin’.”

“Did you kill the biker?”

“I told you I didn’t shoot anybody. I didn’t even know the sonofabitch was dead until just now. You think I’d kill someone and not tell you?”

“I had to ask.”

“All right. You’ve asked.”

Leonard looked pouty for a moment or two. I said, “Start by tellin’ me what happened. You didn’t just decide to roll in pig shit, did you?”

“No. That was sort of a natural by-product of my adventure. And believe me, without you it just wasn’t the same. We’re like the Hardy Boys, you know.”

“No. I’m a Hardy Boy, and you’re Nancy Drew.”

“I’ll let that slide. Hap, when we were at the hospital, and I went out of the waiting room, I didn’t really plan to go anywhere. But the Doc was taking his time, and I thought, well, I’ll step out, get something to eat for us and come back. But it didn’t work that way. I drove off and couldn’t get Raul off my mind. The boy drives me crazy.”

“Aren’t we a little old for this kind of infatuation? All this huffin’-and-puffin’ shit?”

“I guess, but I got to thinking about him and drove out to the house. I thought he might be there. Had his fling with the biker, and maybe it was over and he’d come back. Wild thoughts, but that’s what I was thinking. Thing was, I didn’t know how I’d feel about him coming back if he did, but I wanted to see him again. It’s that simple. Little bastard had my nose open.”

“Want to open your nose, you should try pig shit. I have a cold, and that opened my nose right up. That mess on the carpet, you’re cleaning that.”

Leonard nodded. “What say we eat first, then go out on the back porch and talk?”

We finished the Taco Bell food, and I opened a can of tuna and a jar of mayonnaise, whipped a tablespoon of mayonnaise with the tuna and put it on bread. Leonard ate the sandwich and then another. When he finished, I made another pot of coffee and we went outside with cups of it.

The back porch wasn’t much. It was close to giving up the ghost. The boards were gray and fiercely weathered, but the view out there wasn’t bad. There was the dark East Texas woods, topped by the sky, which was a peculiar blue this day, made all the more beautiful by the golden brightness of the sun; the clouds flowed across it like lilies cast upon a great and tranquil ocean. Off to the right was a creek. You could hear the water gurgling, like a happy woman humming. There was a slight breeze. Outside you couldn’t smell the mildew, dust, and pig shit. Leonard talked.

“Stuff I was gonna tell you about me and Raul, it don’t seem like much now. Not after what’s happened. All I can say is things were falling apart. I guess I knew they would in time. We were just too different. He was a little too young for me, from another world really. Wanted someone didn’t like guns and boxing and martial arts. Someone more refined.”

“I hear the word refined, Leonard, I think of you.”

“You bet. But we weren’t doing so good, and he got so he wasn’t coming home like he should, and here I was staying up nights watching Dave Letterman and John Wayne movies, and he’d come in tired and cranky and short on explanation. Hell, I guess I knew he was fuckin’ around. But I love the guy, you know, so it blinds you. I thought maybe I was just being stupid jealous. Thought the trouble we were having was a stage we were goin’ through. I believed his shit about he was working-”

“Working?”

“Yeah. He finished hairdressin’ school. Kind of elite business. He was gettin’ into this deal they got now where the rich folks have the hairdresser come around to their place to do the work. Big money in that. Kind of like hiring a bartender for the night. Or maid service.”

“I didn’t know Raul knew a comb from a scissor.”

“It was a short course. Three months. He took it while you were out helping exploit the earth of its natural resources.”

“Go on. You were sayin’…”

“Well, things were tense, and the next-door neighbors were still pissed I’d burned their crack house down, and from time to time some of that bunch would come by late at night, throw things at the house, even took a shot at it once. They fucked with our mail. I finally had to have the address temporarily changed. Had my mail sent out to my old place. It was just one thing after another. But after I found out where those shits are now living, I went over and explained to a couple of people that any more crap happened around my house, even if I didn’t know it was them that was responsible, even if I thought it might be them, I’d frown on it tremendously. Well, they knew I meant business – I mean, hell, I done burned their crack house down three times now. So things started cooling. But it was just one more aggravation to make things more tense with Raul. Maybe it was gettin’ to him too, making him act crazy. Anyway, he wasn’t home much. He was hangin’ out in LaBorde Park, which is where lots of gays meet, and I didn’t like that much ’cause that sounded suspicious, him roamin’ around out there. It’s not just a pickup spot, it’s where those guys got beat up. You know, four or five just last year.”

“One this year,” I said. “That’s the place the preacher carries the sign, isn’t it?”

“‘Gay Equals AIDS Equals Death.’”

“That’s the one.”

“Yeah. That’s the place. So I thought him being there all hours wasn’t such a good idea. ’Specially him having all the fighting skills of a dirty sock. And worse yet, all these friends of his, they’re classic queers. All that swishin’ shit. Obvious targets.”

“Do I detect a little prejudice toward other homosexuals, my friend? Those without weight-lifter arms and the ability to sight down a rifle?”

“I’m just sayin’ Raul’s with them, and since they’re like flashin’ neon, and they’re in a bad place, it’s just not smart. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. So don’t give me that liberal bullshit, Hap. I’m not up for it.

“So I’m worried, and I tell Raul I am, but he ignores me, and by the time I find out he’s not only hanging out at the park, but he’s screwin’ Harley Greaseballs, it’s too late. He’s done run off with him. Can you reckon on that? I’m too macho for him, so he runs off with a guy looks like he wiped a couple old transmissions with his hair. I asked around at the park, found out where the biker guy hung out, found out his name was Horse McNee and that he was a closet fag.”

“Horse?”

“It was a nickname. As in hung like a horse.”

“Who told you this?”

“Another faggot. I kinda know him through Raul. Fusses like an old woman. But you know, you want some dirt, this guy seems to have it. He’s been around for years. An old queen. Fact is, they call him Queen Mary. He’s got a younger friend everyone calls Princess Mary. Princess likes to hang around bus stations hoping for a lube job. I can’t stand him. But that’s beside the point. This Queen Mary, he’s always hittin’ on me, and everyone else. I wouldn’t fuck him if we were both wearing bags over our heads and I was using your dick. Hell, I wouldn’t fuck him if we were double baggin’ and using your dick with a rubber on. But I admit I played up to him a little-”