Authors: James Henderson,Larry Rains
“Naw, man,” another man said. “She wants the real deal,” fondling his crotch. “Sausage! Good hot sausage. Smoked-link. Hickory flavor. Zero saturated fat.”
In a flash Perry hopped out of the Cadillac, Glock in hand. She pointed it in the air, fired twice, and aimed it at one of the men, the one who suggested pork.
“The fuck away from my car!”
The man garbled, backed away with hands held high, mouth opening and closing, and tripped on a Wild Irish Rose bottle.
The other two men disappeared, one inside the house, the other a half mile down the dirt road, running, a cloud of dust chasing him.
All the loiterers had scattered, most inside the house, and a few into the woods in back, one rotund man behind a thin pine that didn’t conceal his frame.
A single motion, Perry backhanded the man over the head with the Glock as he tried to regain his footing and fired into the air again.
He yelled “Oh, she shot me!” and with renewed vigor took off running, blood pouring down his head.
Johnny came running out of the house and stopped a few feet short.
“Uh…is something wrong, cuz?”
“No,” Perry said, holding the gun to her side like a gunfighter. “Did you get it?”
“Yeah, I mean, no. Almost had it, got him down to five hundred. Then we look out the window, see you popping his friend upside the head. Why you do that?”
“Because I felt like it. Go get it, so I can get the hell outta here!”
The final offer was thirteen hundred dollars. Firm. Perry paid it and told Johnny to get his shit out of her car and find another way home.
Driving, she inspected the gun. It was an exact duplicate of Tasha’s gun, except for an inch-long scratch along the barrel and, of course, the serial numbers.
She sped by a Dawson County cruiser parked southbound on the highway. She noticed the speedometer.
Shit!
She slowed down and stared into the rearview, hoping the cruiser would not follow. It did.
She dropped both guns onto the floorboard, pushed them under the seat with her foot, and steered the car onto the shoulder.
In the side mirror, she watched Sheriff Ennis Bledsoe waddle up to the Cadillac. She palmed the Rohypnol package in her hand.
“Ma’am,” he said, a hand covering his revolver, “may I see your license and regist--Why if it ain’t Miss Perry!”
Perry gave him her best smile. “Why if it ain’t Sheriff Anus.”
His expression turned sour. “License and registration, please?”
Perry dropped the package in her purse as she retrieved her license.
He studied the license for a long while. “What you doing down here?”
Perry laughed. “Can’t a girl visit her hometown?”
“Yes, she can. Who you come to see?”
The question caught her off guard. “Well…no one in particular.”
Sheriff Bledsoe grunted. “Your immediate family’s gone, who did you come to see?”
“Sheriff,” Perry said, irritated, “did I do something illegal?”
“You were going sixty-five. Speed limit through here forty-five.” He studied the license some more. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to search your vehicle.”
Perry’s mouth dropped. “Why you wanna do that?”
“Just a routine check, won’t take a few minutes.”
Fat asshole! He could just write me a ticket and be done with it. Nooo! He has to throw his fat ass around!
She smiled at him again. “Okay. You mind if I take my purse?”
“No, go right ahead.” She got out and stood behind him. “Would you stand behind the car, please?”
Perry stepped to the rear of the Cadillac. Thinking the cruiser had a surveillance camera, she gave it her back.
Sheriff Bledsoe started searching under the passenger seat.
Perry reached into her purse and gripped a butcher knife.
The police radio squawked. “Unit one…come in please…” The dispatcher paused, waiting for a response. “Ennis, pick up, please!”
“Fiddle faddle!” Sheriff Bledsoe said, getting out of the Cadillac. He crossed to the cruiser and picked up the mike. “Unit one, go ’head.”
“Ennis, we’ve got a disturbance out at Jake’s place. Caller said a woman brandished a gun, pistol-whipped him with it.”
Sheriff Bledsoe groaned. “Ten-four, I’m en route.” He gave Perry her license back. “Somebody out at Jake’s acting a fool.”
Perry winked at him. “I understand, Sheriff Anus.”
“The name is Sheriff Ennis Bledsoe. I’d really appreciate it if you address me accordingly.”
Perry nodded. He got back into the cruiser and just as he was driving away, Perry, waving, said, “Be careful, Sheriff Anus.”
The cruiser accelerated, kicking up gravel.
Moments later, Perry was back on the highway, rolling the tip of a paper straw between her thumb and forefinger. Her fifth attempt to open a straw without damaging the paper.
The paper broke once again. “Damn!”
She defenestrated the damaged straw and picked up an
intact one. The paper broke as before. Perry tried again and again…and again.
Frustrated, she turned the radio on, found nothing she particularly liked and turned it off.
Perry sang: “You’re going down, ba-by…six feet in the ground, ba-by…I’ll still be uptown, ba-by…” She picked up her cell phone and thumbed her home number.
“Pick up the damn phone!” she said after the sixth ring.
“Hello,” Neal said.
“Hey, baby. I was just singing about you.”
“I overslept, didn’t know you were gone.”
“You had one helluva night, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Did you get my note? It’s on the mirror.”
“I see it. Wait a minute…got it.” She could hear paper rattling. “Thanks.”
“Hey, baby, let’s get married, okay? Listen, we get married, the only thing I’ll expect from you is to fuck me all day and all night…twenty-four-seven…three hundred and sixty-five.”
No response on the other end.
“Neal?…Neal?…Neal, you still there?”
“Yeah,” he said dryly. “Yeah, I’m still here.”
“Well, what you think?”
“I…” He sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Listen to me, Neal, I’m serious here. I love you more than anything in the world. I know in my heart that you and I are soulmates.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little too soon. Marriage? Perry, we just met. Don’t you think we oughta give the boyfriend-girlfriend thing a go first?”
“Neal, listen, just listen, hear me out. I’ve got almost a million dollars in the bank. My stock portfolio is estimated at half a million. Baby, my house, the cars, they’re all paid for. Neal, alone, by myself, it all means nothing. Neal, honey, I wanna share it all with you…
you
, Neal, nobody but you, the man I love. Baby, please don’t break my heart telling me you don’t want me.”
Neal cleared his throat. “When do you want to get married?”
“Today!”
* * * * *
When Neal hung up the phone his hands were shaking. He’d just agreed to marry a woman he met a day and a half ago.
Yeah, and she has a million dollars.
He said it aloud: “A million dollars!” Feeling faint he sat down on the edge of the bed. “A million dollars!”
Nervous, ecstatic, and scared shitless, he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He stood up and put on his underwear…and then took them off.
I’m going crazy!
She said a million dollars, not fifty dollars but a million dollars.
He thought of Derrick.
The boy ain’t over the divorce yet
.
‘Derrick, meet my new wife. She’s got a million dollars. Derrick, do you know how many zeroes are in a million? A bunch of em.’
He still might not like her. What’s not to like? She’s rich…and she’s beautiful…and she’s rich…and she’s beautiful…
He couldn’t think of anything else.
Would she accept Derrick?
She’d have to
.
He looked around the room. The armoire, the chifforobe, the numerous porcelain lamps and the two matching nightstands were all antique. Old folk’s furniture, Neal thought.
The king-sized four-poster bed with gold satin sheets, the two ceramic statues of naked men with preternaturally long phalluses, the mirrors adorning every wall and the large watercolor depicting two women kissing suggested a sleazy salaciousness that he didn’t want to think about.
Tasha?
He put his pants on and then realized he’d forgotten his underwear. “Damn!”
Tasha’s
gonna be mad…fighting mad.
‘Tasha, I know I was just with you the other day, but this woman has a million dollars, and she gives hellacious head.’