“No.”
Bill was uncertain what to do. He slipped the wrench in his coat pocket, held the flashlight and looked around. No one.
“I noticed the brakes weren’t working right today. I thought I’d check them.”
“You blow me?”
“I said no.”
Bill went around, poked the flashlight at Pete for a better look, saw he had a big blue knot on the side of his face. His dick was hanging out of his pants.
Apparently, Pete had already tried to get his blow job tonight, but, as was the custom, he had failed. Only he’d forgotten. Probably, tomorrow, he wouldn’t remember a thing about any of this. Then again, he might.
“I got to look under the hood,” Bill said.
Bill popped the hood and poked around in there. He opened the brake fluid box and saw that it was full. He fastened the box up and closed the hood. “Looks low on fluid to me. I think it’s leakin’.”
“I’m gonna git a blow job.”
“You ought to go in. It’s cold.”
“Yeah. I’m gonna git a blow job.”
“I don’t think so.”
“No.”
“You already had it.”
“Did?”
“Double Buckwheat. I seen you git it.”
“Did?”
“Yeah.”
“Frost not supposed to know.”
“I wouldn’t tell him. Who am I to come between a man and his blow job?”
“I had it?”
“Yeah. It’s too cold for me. I’m going in. I’ll see you, Pete.”
“Okay.”
As Bill walked to the Ice Man’s trailer, Pete said, “Did I like it?”
Bill turned. “What?” Then he put it together. “Oh. Yeah. You thought it was great.”
“Oh… Good.”
“Good night, Pete.”
Bill went inside the trailer. After a moment he looked out the window. Pete trudged across his view, and Bill went and opened the door and stuck his head around the corner. Pete was walking across the ground looking dejected. Bill watched until Pete came to the trailer he shared with assorted ill-shaped heads, and went inside.
Bill eased back in the trailer, got a tablespoon and a can of Coke out of his little refrigerator. Outside, he opened the Coke and poured its contents on the ground. He went out to the car, lifted the hood and with the flashlight in his teeth again, he used the spoon to dip fluid into the Coke can. He filled the can, taking out most of the fluid.
He gently closed the hood.
Frost didn’t poke his head out of the motor home.
Pete didn’t show up asking for a blow job.
Double Buckwheat was nowhere in sight.
Neither midget, pumpkin, nor pinhead was stirring, not even a mouse. Bill took the can of fluid and the spoon over to the edge of the river and tossed the spoon way out for no other reason than he wanted to. He put his thumb over the opening in the Coke can and tossed it with a side arm move.
Fluid sprayed from the can, streamed out of it as it flew through the air, went into the water, churned under and was gone.
Bill watched the river for a moment, let out a breath, and went inside his trailer and sat down on the stool and used the flashlight and the dryer to look at the Ice Man.
He no longer slept with a blanket over it.
Thirty-five
Next morning, early, before time to go, Gidget woke Frost and told him about the brakes not working right the day before.
“I meant to tell you. I’m sorry. It slipped my mind. I woke up thinking about it and knew I had to tell you now, before things got to stirring. Bill told me to tell you yesterday, but I forgot.”
Frost listened and patted Gidget on the back and went outside and lifted the hood. It was just light, but he could see well enough. He checked the brake fluid first thing. Gidget came out and stood by him in housecoat and house shoes, puffing frozen air out of her lungs.
“It’s nothing,” Frost said. “It’s just low on fluid. I got fluid.”
“You don’t know that’s all that’s wrong. It could have a leak. It could be dangerous.”
“Not at all.”
“I will not have you driving that. I don’t care what you say. Not until it’s checked by an authorized mechanic.”
“I always do my own work on the car.”
“And you’re not very good at it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Frosty, baby, if the weather weren’t so bad, maybe I’d go with it. But with all this ice, I say hitch it up.”
“It would be more dangerous pulling it in this weather than driving it, sweetie.”
“I will not have you behind the wheel of that vehicle.”
“You’re serious.”
“I’m serious. The ice isn’t any better today. It’s worse. And if you insist on driving that car, I will go back inside the motor home, and sit there. I don’t feel well anyway. In fact, I feel pretty sick.”
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“I don’t know. Nothing serious. A little bug. What would comfort me is if you would hitch the car, drive the motor home, and let me get some sleep. I could take a pill and rest.”
“I don’t like you taking pills.”
“Now how often do I do that? I’m sick, Frosty. I don’t feel good. You kind of wore me out last night.”
Frost looked happy. “I guess I did. That was good… Was it okay without the glove?”
“Sure, baby. It was fine.”
“First time you let me do that.”
“You wanted to, I said sure, what’s the deal?”
“It always bothered you before.”
“I’m not so bothered now.”
“I’m glad to hear that, honey. Really. I was beginning to wonder. I figured we had a kid, we had to get past that. I-”
“Frosty, I’d love to talk, but I’m freezing my tail off, and I don’t feel good. You do what I told you, hear? I’d like to have you near me today. I just want to take a pill now and sleep, but I get to feeling better, I can come up there and sit with you.”
Frost nodded. “That’s the way you want it. That’s how it’ll be.”
He closed the hood. He drove the car around behind the motor home, started hooking up the hitch. Bill came out of the Ice Man’s trailer and walked around close to the side of the motor home while Frost was working. Gidget opened the door and Bill, looking to see if anyone was watching, slipped inside. “I’m going in,” Gidget yelled back to Frost. “I’m cold.”
