all.
“Hell no,” Bobby said. “The new one in Cleveland. We just struck a deal with the owner to give a safe pass to members. You’re a Platinum member, so we thought we’d better take you in the wagon. Otherwise, we’d have just let you walk it.”
“We expect a lot more traffic through here when the new Joey’s is up and running full speed,” Sue Ellen said. “It’s been dead around here. We ain’t caught anyone in the net in…how long, Floyd?”
“Six months,” Floyd said. “Maybe seven.”
“It’ll be nice to get commerce flowing again,” Bobby said.
“More traffic means more people in the net?” Mortimer asked.
Bobby shrugged. “Got to earn a living.”
“Seems a little gruesome.”
“Hey, it used to be a lot worse,” Bobby said. “Back when Daddy was alive we’d rob them and strip them and kill them. But I guess Daddy finally felt guilty about that because he shot himself. That was him you saw at the desk.”
“Lovely.”
“Anyway, folks are worth more alive now with the new Joey’s. We put a sentence on them for trespassing and they work it off on the electricity bicycles. But members get a pass. You can’t fuck with the customers.”
Bobby mumbled, “Whoa,” and the mule eased to a stop in front of a relatively well-kept brick house. “Floyd, I’m dropping you off here.”
“What?” Floyd’s voice leapt two octaves.
“Damn it, Floyd, we’re the only people for ten miles with chickens. You want them stole while we’re away? Now get out of the wagon.”
“But I want to see the Joey Girls.”
“Get out!”
Floyd grumbled but got out.
In a second, the wagon was on its way again.
“He’s as good a brother as a man could ask for, but he’s hornier than a damn jackrabbit. They only got four girls at Joey’s and he’s been at each of them maybe a half-dozen times.”
Mortimer didn’t have anything to say to that.
“But overall, I guess you could say we’re relatively affluent here,” Bobby continued. “We got chickens that lay good eggs, so we can trade. We got two hogs we’re trying to breed, so if that works out we might end up being the pork barons of the whole damn state. I like to think big.”
Mortimer’s stomach growled. A plate of bacon and eggs would be heaven. And coffee. A cup of coffee.
A steak. He’d kill for a thick, red T-bone steak.
No, not kill. That kind of thing wasn’t a figure of speech anymore.
“And I might be getting a job as a Joey Girl,” Sue Ellen said.
Bobby snorted. “Hell, girl, that place is known for the hotness of its female employees. Why would they want your ugly ass?”
“You shut up, Bobby. A good brother would support his sister’s career ambitions.”
“You don’t have no tits.”
“I said shut up. You smell like cat piss. Shut up. Tits ain’t the whole package. I’m refined. I dress nice.”
Bobby nudged Mortimer in the ribs. “She found all these old clothes and thinks she’s Elizabeth Taylor.”
“I don’t even know who the hell that is.” Sue Ellen stuck her tongue out at her brother. “Shithead.” She touched Mortimer on the shoulder. “You think I’m attractive, don’t you, Mr.-hey, we never did get your name.”
“Mortimer.”
“Mortimer, you think I’m attractive, don’t you?”
Please leave me alone.
Sue Ellen shook his shoulder. “Seriously, I’m pretty, right? Alluring.”
Mortimer swallowed hard, cleared his throat and nodded. “You look nice.”
Bobby brayed laughter. “Shit, Sue Ellen, he’s a Platinum member. He could have big-titty blonde whores out the ying-yang.” Bobby nudged him again. “Eh, buddy? All them choice whores. Eh?”
“How much farther is it?”
“Oh, it’s a ways. Get comfortable.”
Clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop.
As in Spring City, the folks of Cleveland, Tennessee, had decided to congregate downtown, fleeing the exposed suburbs for the relative safety of brick buildings and narrow streets, almost like a tightly clustered medieval village behind a palisade. Even more than Spring City, the downtown had been made into a fortress, the roads blocked in a zigzag pattern with junk cars. Bobby maneuvered the mule slowly but with ease
