The Mystic Arts of Erasing All Signs of Death

I looked at Harris.

– OK, we're done.

He looked at Soledad.

– All done?

She folded her arms.

– Sure, fine, let him pout.

He tilted back and lifted the edge of the curtain and peeked out the window.

– Glad you got that bit out of your systems. Now you can maybe please shut the hell up.

He dropped the curtain and gave me a look.

– While I pass the time along till I get to a point that's coming soon where I figure this is all BS and I decide I have to do something to make amends for bein’ made to feel foolish and all.

He tapped the cellphone he'd set on the table at his elbow.

– This don't ring soon.

He pointed at the room phone.

– I may have to replay certain incidents from our recent past, Web.

He laced his fingers behind his head.

– Know you know what I'm sayin'.

He was right, I knew.

I raised my hand.

– Can I go to the bathroom?

– Uh-huh. Just leave the door open.

I went into the John and unzipped and stood in front of the toilet and didn't pee because I didn't really have to go.

– I don't hear anythin’ in there.

I stuck my head out the door.

– That's ‘cause I'm pee shy around girls. Can I run the tap?

He waved a hand.

– Whatever it takes.

I ducked back in and turned the taps on full and stood at the can for a second and looked out the open door and turned and eased the shower curtain aside and stepped into the tub and tugged the bathroom window and it didn't open. I stepped out of the tub, hit the flush lever, got back in the tub and gave the window a good yank and it ground open on rusted tracks. The rush of toilet water was fading from the pipes and I got out of the tub and pulled the curtain closed and stuck my hands under the running water in the sink and turned off the taps and looked around and couldn't find a towel. I went out, my hands dripping.

– No towels.

Harris inclined his head at a couple athletic bags near the door.

– Got ‘em packed away already.

I sat back on the bed, discovering that I suddenly had to pee very badly.

Harris pointed at Soledad.

– You need to go?

She shook her head.

He pointed at Jaime.

– You?

He furrowed his brow.

– Uh.

– Ain't something most people have to think about, jackass.

Jaime shook his head.

– No, no, I don't have to go.

– OK, well, from here on out, everyone's holding it.

Harris settled and put his hand back behind his head.

– Talbot. Know what you need to know ‘bout that boy? Other than his teeth were gray from snorting crank and his hair was fallin’ out and his skin was yellow and his nose was collapsin’ in on itself? What else you need to know about Talbot was his car. Boy had this car, eighty-eight or eighty-nine Toyota or Honda or one of them other Jap cars all look the same. Had that car awhile. Know how long? Ten years. Had that car ten years. Know how he got it? Stole it. Boosted it off the street in Humbolt. Went there to score some grass and came back with some college kid's car. Used to brag on that car all the time. Stole this car ten years ago and I'm still drivin'it. You believe that shit? Ten years in the same hot car and I ain't been busted. Bet I drive this car twenty years before they bust me for it. Cops so fuckiri stupid, had me pulled over twice since I stole it and they ain't busted me for the hot car I'm in.

He shook his head.

– Said that. Said, Bet I drive this car twenty years before they bust me for it. Never occurred to him to maybe unload the damn thing before they arrested him. He just figured you steal a car, you drive it till you get caught. Whoever drives his longest wins. ‘Course, six of those ten years he bragged about he was inside for dealin'. That was before his habit got so bad he couldn't be trusted by no one to deal. Anyhow, that's about all you need to know about Talbot. Boy was an albatross the whole season.

– Web.

– Some farmer's leavin’ a stack of irrigation pipe at the same southwest corner of a citrus orchard for a week, we hear about it from one of his wetbacks and send Talbot with a couple hands to pick it up. He comes back with a truckload of PVC. Ask him, Where's the fife, he points at the plastic in the truck. That he don't even know the points of the compass to find the right corner is one thing.

– Web.

– But that he can't tell between PVC and steel is another.

– Web.

The legs of his chair came down.

– Boy, will you acknowledge the girl, for peace sake?

I rubbed my shin where he'd kicked me.

– I don't want to talk to her.

She clapped her hands to her head.

– Why? What the hell did I do?

I pulled up my pant leg and looked at the big purple lump.

– She knows what she did.

– No, I don't, I really don't!

I looked at Harris.

– She so knows what she did.

She got up.

– What I did? What I did? What I did was like you! What I did was need someone to hold me.

She came across the room at me.

– What I did was fuck you and have you freak out in the morning and I walked outside when you told me to get away from you and got kidnapped by the Oakridge Boys!

Harris leaned forward in his seat.

– Settle down now.

– You fucked asshole?

We looked at Jaime, still wedged between the bed and the wall, but newly roused from the nap he'd been taking.

She stuck a finger in my face.

– Yes, I did. And it was nice. And I needed it. And I thought he was cool and safe. But he's acting like every asshole I've ever fucked, by turning into a dick now that he's gotten some.

Harris knocked on the table.