“The rest of us wonder about those kinds of things. Hap, it isn’t that I’m ungrateful. Or that I don’t love you. I adore you. It’s just that I’ve been a little lost. Tillie went right back to takin’ strokes for money.”
“Yeah. You told me.”
“Can you believe that?”
“Leonard said she would.”
“Again, Mr. Know-It-All.”
“I get to thinking he’s so smart, what in hell is he doin’ hangin’ around with me?”
Brett laughed. I loved that laugh. It was rich and smoky.
“Tillie may not have changed like I hoped,” she said, “but I like to think she’s safer. As safe as anyone can be in that business.”
“I hope so, Brett.”
“You know I went to the Gilmer Yamboree this year. I told you I rode a float there once. When I was a teenager.”
“Yep. You were Sweet Tater Queen. I’ve seen the photographs. The float is a giant sweet potato. As I recall, you told me you thought it looked like a giant turd.”
“That’s right. And you know what, they didn’t even have a goddamn sweet tater over there this year. Not even as a float.”
“Modernization, what you gonna do? Everybody’s eatin’ McDonald’s french fries. There’s people don’t even know you don’t make french fries out of sweet taters.”
“Actually, you can,” Brett said, “but they don’t taste right. But, shit, you’d think they could find a sweet potato somewhere… Hap, this woman. The one who’s dead. Did you love her?”
“No. I didn’t love her.”
“Do you want to tell me about her?”
“Maybe not just now.”
“You want to leave this shitty coffee and go sweat up the sheets?”
“Boy, do I.”
I guess it was about a week later. Me and Brett had taken to living with one another, and it was working out fine. She had gotten neither puppy nor wax job nor waxed puppy. She did let me shave her pubic hair, however, and I liked that.
We had her daughter, the whore, visit from Tyler. She had dinner with us. Tillie decided she was going to spend the rest of her time taking the basic courses at Tyler Community College, turning tricks less and less. Perhaps a career as a brain surgeon was in her future.
Or maybe she just wanted to learn how to count up her trick money better at the end of the day; run her own whorehouse.
Brett’s son, Jimmy, had finally gotten rid of his Christian Scientist girlfriend. Or rather fate had gotten rid of her for him. She died. Should have had that kidney checked when it first acted up. But she believed in the power of prayer. Her God, however, had other plans. So Jimmy was free. And doing better. Had gone on a bender to Mexico, Brett said. Came home with a box of Chiclets, a sombrero, and a dose of the clap. Nothing penicillin couldn’t clean up. He was no longer teaching Aikido; having gotten beaten up in Mexico he decided he needed more lessons.
Anyway, Brett and I were together again. She had only one new rule for me, having doled it out after I had told a friend she was nursing. I was told to say she was a nurse and never say she was nursing. Brett thought it sounded like she was wet-nursing a baby.
“Could I just say you’re nursing me?” I asked.
“No, you cannot.”
Me and Leonard were back to work at the chicken plant. We were happy as people can be protecting chickens. I learned to never make friends with incoming chickens. Under the circumstances, even a chicken knew it was insincere. You could see it in their eyes, way they held their heads.
One afternoon before Brett and I went to work, we went over to my apartment to start cleaning it out. I had decided at the end of the month to let it go. I had pretty much moved in with Brett anyway. We were talking about marriage and a different house that we might rent, or even buy. Some place big enough to hold all our things and anything else that might come to us. I was seriously thinking about trying to start a real career. As always I was stalled on knowing exactly what. I thought about President of the United States for a couple hours, but I didn’t really want to move out of East Texas. Astronaut was an idea, but considering I disliked flying any more than I had to, I had to rule that out. Plantation owner was another thought. But I didn’t have any land or money and Leonard wasn’t the butler type, so I had to dismiss that. I thought about what was most likely. I kept coming up with chicken plant guard.
It was depressing.
I was thinking more and more about Charlie and Hanson, their offer to work for them.
At my place me and Brett cleaned out the refrigerator, tossing stuff in the trash, packing up the good stuff to take over to her place. There was a lot more trash than good stuff.
While we were at it, Charlie came by.
The door to my place was open. I had quit running the air conditioner, trying to save money. It was a time of the year when it was starting to cool down a little. Nothing to get excited about. No igloos were about to go up. We were merely having a mild streak.
Charlie came in and took off his hat. He smiled. I knew it wasn’t for me. It was for Brett. She was wearing white shorts and her pale lightly freckled legs were a wonderful thing to see. Her bright red hair was cut so that it fell around her face like a feathered helmet. She had on a loose top and no bra. She was one of the few older women I knew who could get away with that, though it was her claim her days as a swinging tit were almost over.
“Hey, Charlie,” she said.
“Hey, Brett. Good God, woman. What do you see in this man?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
Charlie and I shook hands. Charlie said, “I’ve come by a few times, but haven’t caught you.”
“I’m mostly at Brett’s,” I said.
“I’m glad to see you two back together. How’s Leonard?”
“He’s good. We only see each other at work these days. He’s got John and I’ve got Brett.”
“Good for both of you. Me, not so good. I got Hanson. We’re putting together our agency, you know?”
“That’s right,” I said. “Got clients yet?”
“Not really. We’re not quite ready. I’ve been enjoying my retirement till the money runs out. I been lookin’ for you because I wanted to thank you for payin’ the money back from the Mexico thing.”
“You’re welcome. I owed it. You saved my bacon. You’re lucky I had some money and could pay it back in one chunk.”
“I’d have liked to let it go, but…”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I can make some coffee, Charlie,” Brett said. “We were thinking about having some.”
“That would be nice.”
Charlie sat on the couch, put his porkpie hat on the armrest. “You’re moving out?”
“I am.”
“Well, that kind of log-jams the other reason I came by.”
“And that is?” I asked.
“I wanted to see I could stay here one night soon. So I could have my trailer painted. And boy, does it need it. I bought it off a couple had a bunch of kids. They must have wiped shit on the walls, way that place stank. I got some cheap new furniture in storage. Been sleeping on a pallet. It’s killing my back. I was gonna do the painting myself, but I’m a shitty painter. Fact is, I’m bringing in painters to repaint what I fucked up. I started trying to do it, but a brain-damaged chimpanzee could have done a better job. Thing is, the smell. Not just from the kids, but the new paint. Man, I can’t take it. I thought about staying with Hanson, but his wife doesn’t like me. I thought I’d ask you. That doesn’t work out, I can ask John and Leonard. I thought it just being you it would be easier, but I see it isn’t just you anymore. And you’re moving out.”
“Well, Hanson’s wife just doesn’t know your charm,” Brett said.
