Rumble Tumble

you immediately thought of children’s Band-Aids because of my size. You don’t take me seriously because I’m small.”

“They were on sale, asshole,” Leonard said.

“I take you seriously,” Brett said. “I pistol-whipped the shit out of you, didn’t I?”

Red shook his head. “You just don’t get it. None of you. Hap here, he might understand some, but ultimately, he goes with the flow. He’s not a man willing to follow his heart.”

“Were you following your heart when you strangled that woman who ran the whorehouse?” I said. “If you did do that.”

“Oh, I did it. But that had nothing to do with heart. That was business.”

“Consider this business,” Brett said.

“Are you getting paid?” Red asked.

“No,” Brett said.

“Then it’s not business,” Red said.

“I think it is,” Brett said. “In fact, I think it’s very serious business. And let me add this. I don’t find my daughter, you’re all out of business. Know what I mean?”

“Of course I do. Being small doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Nor does it mean I’m physically inadequate. Would you suspect I can bench-press two hundred pounds? I may not look it in these street clothes, but I’m well muscled. Perhaps this isn’t the thing to say in front of a lady—however, considering your actions of earlier, the idea of you being a lady might be questionable, so I think I can say it, and will. I have a big schlong.”

“How nice,” Brett said.

“Yeah,” Leonard said, “but you have to climb up on a chair to use it.”

Red was infuriated. “How much can you bench-press?”

“I don’t know,” Leonard said.

“I bet it isn’t much for your size. You consider my size and the fact I weigh far less than two hundred pounds, and you’re talking about me moving some real weight.”

“That’s good,” Leonard said.

Red began to snort and rattle on about this and that. After about fifteen minutes of nonstop bullshit we had had enough. Leonard decided to gag him, and I helped. We used a pair of Leonard’s underwear to do the job. We tied the drawers in place with a belt from one of Brett’s dresses. Then we tied Red to a chair with a lamp cord and one of my belts.

When we were finished Leonard gave Red a pat on the head, said, “Just be glad them ain’t Hap’s drawers.”

Brett put Red’s hat on his head. Red shook the chair by rotating his hips and kicking his feet.

“You turn that over, I’m gonna leave you there,” Leonard said. “You’ll be damn uncomfortable lying on your side tied to a chair. You settle down there and after a while I’ll let you loose for a pee break, otherwise you’re gonna be miserable. And remember this, you ain’t got no extra clothes with you if you mess yourself. Though, I suppose tomorrow morning I could run over to the children’s department at a thrift store and pick you up some short sets.”

Red quit kicking. His little shoulders slumped.

Leonard turned on the television. There was a rerun of America’s Funniest Home Videos on. Leonard picked up Red’s chair and sat him right in front of the television set. He took the Western novel Taxi Man had given me and stretched out on the bed and began to read.

“Well, that television show is our cue to depart,” I said.

I glanced at Red: he had his head hung, defeated. On the television the audience was laughing as a toddler fell over the edge of a plastic swimming pool and banged his head against the ground.

Brett and I went to our room, carrying our little bit of luggage.

“I bought him some aspirin, didn’t I? Paid for it out of my own money.”

“Jesus, Brett. You hit him in the head with a gun barrel. A piece of steel. Aspirin doesn’t make it okay.”

“Well, aspirin’s for a headache ain’t it?”

“You gave him the headache. And besides, you gave Leonard a couple dollars and sent him for the aspirin.”

“It don’t matter how the little fucker gets it, does it?”

“I guess not,” I said.

“He’s lucky I didn’t give him a new shape to his head. And don’t be so self-righteous. You were in on it.”

I went quiet. We were lying in bed, the light out. We were both well on our sides of the bed, leaving quite a space between us.

Brett said, “I’m sorry, Hap. Really. I shouldn’t have said that. Wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be involved. But you got to understand. This is my daughter we’re talking about. Whatever it takes, that’s what I’ll do, and it’s not like we’re dealing with the Pope here.”

“I know, Brett, it’s just seeing the little guy take it. Fact is, I kind of admire him.”

“Admire him?”

“Not for who he is. Or what he’s done. But just the way he conducts himself.”