‘Cools the greed.’
Mott finished flicking through the bills and handed a wad to Eddie. ‘That’s four grand. Squares us on last week’s peyote buttons.’
Eddie peeled off a single bill and stuffed the rest in his back pocket. ‘You make your nut?’
‘No problem.’
‘How’s the biz?’
‘Smooth and quiet. Any rattles down your way?’
‘Nothing shaking.’ Eddie took out his Zippo and held it under the hundred dollar bill. ‘Ready?’
‘Always,’ Mott said. ‘Fire away.’
Shielding it in front of himself against the light breeze, Eddie lit a corner of the bill.
Daniel, peaking on acid, was too stunned to say anything. He watched enthralled as the flames spread along the bill, leaving a flutter of ashes in their wake. When they reached the oval face of Ben Franklin engraved on the bill, Mott chortled, ‘Fuck-oh-dear, but I do like to see old Benny Franklin burn. Hated that motherfucker ever since they tried to convince me what a great thinker and citizen he was when I was back in first grade, back before I took warping my brain into my own hands. I’ll bet you a mink coat against a cornflake that the only time Benny Franklin ever got off was when that lightining zapped his kite.’
Daniel watched raptly as the flames burned closer to Eddie’s fingers.
Eddie didn’t let go. Instead, he dropped the bill in the palm of his left hand, slapped it almost simultaneously with his right, then brushed the ashes on the ground.
Pale eyes glittering, Mott enthusiastically suggested, ‘Let’s burn another one.’
‘Ain’t happening,’ Eddie mumbled. ‘They’re already pissed off about one. Wanna know why we can’t use a twenty.’
Mott erupted, ‘We can’t use a fucking
‘They’re squares, man, what can I tell ya?’ Eddie said. ‘Volta’s pretty cool, though; he digs it. He was the only vote in favor of burning more. Told me he’d ride up sometime and we could burn a grand of his personal income.’
‘Aw, piss on ’em,’ Mott said with sudden resignation. He picked up the suitcase and stuffed it in the saddlebag. ‘Let’s move.’
‘Later,’ Eddie waved.
As they walked back into the trees, Daniel said, ‘Shouldn’t you check the suitcase to see if it actually does contain hashish?’
‘Shouldn’t Eddie have counted the money?’
‘So you’re saying you trust him, right?’
‘We trust each other. It’s the backbone of the trade and the heart of the Alliance.’
‘What was burning that bill all about?’
‘For the hell of it.’
‘I can understand how you enjoy it, hating Benjamin Franklin, but what about Eddie?’
‘I have the feeling it just gets the Low-Rider off. A little kink in the wiring. I mean, look how he dresses. And every time I mention being horny he gets nervous about Lucille. I know I can get a tad rambunctious, but hey, I ain’t gonna fuck no helicopter.’
Daniel said, ‘It felt like a ceremonial purification.’
‘Better safe than sorry,’ Mott replied. He stopped in his tracks, groaning ‘Did Benny Franklin say that?’
‘I think so,’ Daniel said gravely. He didn’t know, actually, but he’d never seen Mott look scared before.
Mott had the knife in his hand before Daniel saw him move. He tossed the knife up, caught it by the back of the blade, and extended it to Daniel, handle first. As Daniel took it, pearls of sunlight shattered on its edge.
Mott dropped to his knees in front of Daniel. ‘Cut out my tongue.’ Mott closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. His abject vulnerability suddenly frightened Daniel. ‘Cud da fugger od!’ Mott demanded, sticking his tongue out farther.
Daniel realized then that Mott was as stoned as he was. He shifted logic. ‘You won’t ever be able to taste your chili again,’ he reminded him.
Mott opened one eye thoughtfully, then the other. ‘Couldn’t eat pussy either, could I? Kinda the clincher, huh?’ He got to his feet. ‘Well, even assholes like Ben Franklin get it right once in a while, I guess.’
Daniel handed the knife back to Mott.
‘You’re a clear thinker, Dan. I like that. We’ll make good pardners. I’ll keep you loaded, you keep me sane.’
They arrived back at the barn shortly after dark, taking a different route: cocaine, vodka, demerol, and, the last miles, a few Dexamyl spansules.
Daily life at the Rocking On was remarkably like that at the Four Deuces and the Wyatt Ranch, except the work
