cop you didn’t kill, he killed himself. You haven’t killed anybody and you’re whining.”
“I’m not whinin’. I’m just sayin’.”
“Sounds like a whine to me.”
Bill lay still. “I planned the whole thing, but I didn’t mean for nothing like that. It’s one thing for a murder to happen, it’s another to plot it and do it yourself. And the truth is, I like Frost. I owe him.”
“Maybe you do, but you’ve paid that debt. It’s not like a lifetime thing.”
“There’s a line I’ve stepped over already and I don’t like it. I do this on purpose, there ain’t even a line. We shouldn’t do something like that.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t, but we could, and I would. And there isn’t any line, Bill. Never has been. The only line is the one you draw yourself. Listen here, hon. I got to get loose, and I divorce him, I got nothing. He dies, a little accident, I got a little something. And I got you. And you got those checks of your mother’s. I’m a forger, remember. It would be seed money for us to get going, you know.”
“You said he dies you got a little something. What little something?”
“The Ice Man. The carnival, for that matter. Do you know how much that Ice Man takes in? It isn’t exactly Fort Knox numbers, but you could live pretty good. Get rid of the rest of these freaks, ditch ’em. Just keep the Ice Man, take him around.”
“Wouldn’t you make more with the carnival altogether?”
“Sure. Shit, Bill, I don’t care. I’m just saying we get rid of Frost, we got the Ice Man, carnival if we want it, and we got your mother’s checks. It’s a good start. Time comes we want to sell the Ice Man, we get a good price, and we use that money to invest in something else.”
“Something straight.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to run the Ice Man around Texas all my life. I just want to get shed of Frost and have some seed money, a little income till we get our shit together. We could maybe open some cafe or something, hire waitresses to do what I used to do. I don’t even care you pinch one or two of them on the ass once in a while.”
Bill grinned. “We could do that, couldn’t we?”
“Or something like it.”
“I don’t know. Frost has done me all right.”
“Good. Take advantage of it. Build on that. Look at it this way, Bill, an opportunity is an opportunity, and if it comes to you, you ought to take it. You don’t look to me you’re a fella with a lot of grabs at brass rings.”
“Could be there’s a warrant out on me. You think about that? You and me doing this thing, then going into something like that, them looking for me. He dies, cops’ll be around asking questions.”
“We’ll dodge it until it blows over. Hell, cops don’t catch one in ten criminals anymore, and I bet there’s not that many people sweating over a firecracker stand and its owner. Then again, there may not be any warrants. Probably don’t even know you’re involved. We start with this one thing, then we worry about the other problems as we come to them.”
“Christ, I don’t know.”
“Tell you what,” Gidget said, getting up, sliding into her shorts more easily this time. “You think about the poontang you aren’t getting and the poontang he’s getting, and you think about that dead hand of his rubbing me down.” She fastened her shorts and pulled on her T-shirt. “You think about that, baby. Then you let me know how you feel. Tell me you haven’t got anything against him. Fact he’s fuckin’ me like I was a fertility goddess ought to be cause enough you want to see him dead. What he’s getting, you aren’t getting. Remember that.”
Gidget pulled the slicker over her head, stopped at the door, and looked back. “You ought to clean up that mustard. And there’s a corn dog under your bed. I can see it from here.”
She went out in the rain and closed the door. After a time, Bill got up, cleaned the freezer, rinsed off the corn dog, rewarmed it in the microwave and ate it.
Twenty-four
Next day the rain cleared up. Dampness hung from every tree limb and leaf and blade of grass and the trailers were slicked as if coated with gloss. The whirligig arrived from its last location via the trailer, along with the Pickled Punks. Phil had driven the trailer himself and a wetback he’d hired followed him in a car with a smoking exhaust. It looked like an old-fashioned mosquito fogger.
Phil and Frost parleyed and Phil went out of there with a scowl on his face, his South of the Border driver at the wheel.
Frost rounded up enough folks to erect the whirligig. It was wet from being dragged around on the damp grass. Much of it had worn bright silver through the green paint.
This was the very thing that was getting Frost. The green paint worn away. He was standing under the whirligig with the only two helpers who hadn’t faded. Double Buckwheat and Conrad, who, as usual, was smoking a cigarette. Breakfast had not only involved eggs but grits, so Double Buckwheat’s two heads looked like Brillo pads that had scoured most of the breakfast dishes of the continental United States.
Each stood with a hand over his eyes to shield out the brightness of the sun. Conrad had on a felt hat with a black band with a feather in it. He looked kind of cute, the way a dog does when you dress it up in clothes.
Bill, who had not participated in erecting the whirligig or done anything else this morning, came out and leaned against the Ice Man’s trailer, eating a corn dog. He watched them stare up at the whirligig. He would have felt last night had been a dream had he not woken up this morning and found Gidget’s ruined panties. He had lain in bed with them over his face, his nose sticking through the slit designed for what he felt might be the best part of her. He smelled the panties for a time, and when he got up, he realized he had missed breakfast.
He ate the corn dog slowly. He was so worn out his teeth hurt. He thought about what he and Gidget had talked about, and decided maybe Gidget had been half goofy last night, thinking out loud about something she didn’t really want.
He walked over to where Frost, Double Buckwheat, and Conrad stood looking up at the whirligig.
“Bird watching?” Bill asked.
“Bird watching,” one of Double Buckwheat’s heads said.
“Needs paint,” Frost said.
“Needs paint,” the other Double Buckwheat head said.
“I think it’s all right,” Conrad said. “Especially since he’s wanting to get us up there to paint it. This ground down here would be littered with pinheads and such. And I’m not so good at climbing either.”
“Not everyone here is mentally handicapped,” Frost said.
“Handicapped,” Double Buckwheat said.
“Let me think on that,” Conrad said. “I ain’t so sure.”
“He ain’t sure,” the other head said.
“I’m just saying it needs paint,” Frost said.
“Paint,” said Double Buckwheat.
“I know how you are when you think something needs paint,” Conrad said. “Or something needs this, or something needs that. You can’t leave it alone until it’s done. And that generally means I’m in on the doing it.”
“You do work here, Conrad.”
“I do everything but wipe the twins’ ass,” Conrad said, “and I ain’t about to add to my job description ass- wiping or climbing up there on that bolt-rattling sonofabitch to paint it.”
“Sonofabitch,” both heads said.
“Very well,” Frost said. “I’ll paint it myself.”
“He’ll paint it,” one head said.
“It’s gonna rain again anyhow,” Conrad said.
“Rain,” the other head said.
Frost turned and looked at Double Buckwheat. He smiled. “Do you think you boys could go somewhere else to stand? And maybe you could wash your hair.”
One of the Buckwheats said, “Packin’ it in,” and off they went.
