by Jane Brooke
She’s actually feeling pretty good considering she may need a Braille menu soon to order A Texas Fried Steak from Mavas Cafe.
She’s a woman, has never loved anything, anyone, loves Angel now, of course that’s a start. She’s still confused, rider of the horses, his words stun her and she needs more. She is getting crazier by the moment. Even a good beating won’t make those feeling vanish.
Understanding quite well just how brainy she is does nothing to quell her knowledge that perhaps she is not an artist, but just a gorgeous total fuck up. Jason Cox’s work depicts an artist and she is coming to grips that she, planted into a decentralized and desensitized world may have been just a trick of her life; thus finding herself in a world she never belonged in to begin with.
She remembers, from some obscure part of her brain what the Greek Poet Heraclitus, said.
“Because it is so unbelievable, the truth often escapes being known.”
Sitting naked, on the side of the bed, nothing in her mind could be truer.
She moves, winces, war wounds raving to reality, aching more, cool wind from the swamp cooler, making the last remnants of the day bearable.
Shadows fill the room as the Sun pushes past the rim of the Earth.
Manuscript on her knees, chin lifts, she stares at her reflection in the mirror. Her makeover, allows her brain a respite, on, off, on, off, there are no memories of the men hunting her. Onettas death, her lying mouth, nothing distracts her from the work she has been reading through the day.
A magnificent pure predator, this part of her brain feels no fear, is roving in Jasons world, The Riders world, one of war, love and death.
She knows, that through time, there are women that love men for no other reason then the rare talent they hold within their hearts. One might be a painter, work in marble, clay, gold, mathematics; genius has no face, much like her.
IT is the very reason she stuck her thumb to the road over a decade earlier. But, what is her talent, besides bringing Armageddon to every person that has ever moved close to her?
The emotions she’s feels are as foreign to her as if she were telling the truth. She is not talentless, has been told more than once that her writing is something remarkable.
But, compared to what?
Wheel of some type of odd fate satiated machine is in the process, whirling finality as she thinks in her mind.
Eyes glaze over, she blinks hearing a motorcycle roar into the compound. Placing the manuscript down, she stands naked, moves to the door, cracks it and sees Billy throwing his kick stand down at the mechanics garages.
To her dismay, Arvan, bent over his pick-up, not working on HER car. She allows a groan to escape from her lips. Billy, steps to Arvan, hands him a plastic sack, as usual they begin to argue, Arvan pointing at her car, her room, the De Ville. Billy finishes it off, the usual deal, a smack across Arvans head, Billy turns and strides to the bar, enters it.
Arvan leers, after his brother, pure hatred in his eyes and, then his face softens, as she sees him staring in her direction. She knows what that means. She sees homicide whistling around Arvans eyes.
Time, she thinks, to get back to the grift.
Valise open, bends, moans from pain, she slips on a pair of white men’s BVD’s, white socks, black hip huggers, black men’s T, on her small feet go the heavy work boots. 38 off the table, along with her knife, in the boots they go. Looking at her pillow, she sees her 44 sneaking its black mouth out from under the pillow. She groans, warns herself to be more careful, then, knock, knock, knock.
Eyes sweep the room, everything tucked away, eyes tick at the heat vents, she exhales, moves to the door, shakes her head violently, once, become Miss Betty as she opens the door.
Arvan, conspiracy everywhere, body posture, face and, then in his words he whispers. “Can I come in Betty? Need ta talk, real quick like, with ya.”
“Of course darlin’, come in.”
Did she really just call him darlin’? Yes she did.
Arvan, like a spy, looks off at the bar, sneaks into her room and, then looks around, kinda manic, whispers. “Gotta make it quick Betty. Billy he done pissed off again.”
Betty nods sweetly, for him to continue, not liking already where the conversation is heading.
“No water pump in Solar Ville. Arvan remembers what we was talkin’ bout, real good.”
She groans, remembers the show she put on for him. She bets her ass he remembers it too.
“Then, were off ta Corpus Christie tomarraw, where I can get yer pump. Problem is, won’t be back fer a day or so, and I gotta knowed, Betty, cause I got plans. Big plans fer the both of us. Big plans.”
What she wants to say is: “Well’ that’s great fucking news. I’ll hang here honey bunny while I’m waiting for two guys to arrive, plus some other Super Size slabs of meat lurkers you won’t believe, which will make your violent brother Billy look like Gandhi in comparison.”
What she does say as somehow her eyes light up like Christmas bulbs, is. “Oh Arvan, that’s all I could think about, darlin’. Me bein’ safe and protected and all. Us bein’ tagether fer ev...”
Checking her Texas Slang Dictionary cover to cover she probes for the right words, though she could have been a deaf mute after Arvan had witnessed her crawl on the bed earlier.
“Are ya sure, Arvan. Ya can get her fixed real quickly when you return, so we...we...we”
She lowers her eyelids, even the busted one, goes all quite and such “WE” being the optimum word in her last lying breath.
Kick my fucking dog, will ya. Burns through her brain
“Ya jest wait, Betty. Arvan I’ll fix everythin’. Ya trust me done ya?”
Sure baby, no problema. Trust you, right, as about as far I would expecting you to win a first grade spelling bee.
Words left unsaid, sometimes are better words.
“My life Arvan, my darlin’, it’s in your hands.”
He grins, peeks at the hole in the wall.
Mandal smiles, wondering if more peep hole action will be needed to get her fucking car repaired.
He gulps as her grind on the bed replays in his mind. A door slams. He jerks his head around, moves to the door.
“Okay Betty.” See ya real soon. Be ready. We might have ta’ go real quick like.”
“Okay Arvan. I’ll be ready, darling, for you.”
Grins, peeks at the hole, cracks the door, sluices out of the room, blink, blink, groans, she shakes her head violently, winces from the clearing pain, whispers. “Great. Just fucking great.”
Second part of part two, she is secretly pleased.
The masochist in her kicks in, for glances at the manuscript makes her smile. Swell, she can spend more time with her new pal in the barn. Oh goody goody goody.
Manic, OCD, Bi Polar, she feels happy, time for a smokey.
She grabs a Marlboro, her Zippo, stares at the Red Dragon insignia, memories flashing back to her from the chrome. She decides to bag those, lights her cigarettes, inhales, swan dives on the bed, bad idea.
“Crack.”
Her rib seems to snap. She winds into a fetal position, buries her head in the pillow, white knuckles the sheets, shrieks in pain into the white cotton.
After a few moments the pain subsides. Thank fucking God for that. She rolls on her back, pats at a spot in the sheet burning from her dropped smoke. With hands trembling from the subsiding pain she inhales, exhales, calms, afraid to move.
More time passes, her mind clears, decides to do some sleuthing, maybe over at the disappearing act in the center of the junk yard, more Jason too, that’s a no brainer. She likes night time, shadow time, perfect for snakes to slither around, hunt, gather up the odd odds and ends, information is power.
She looks at a staring Angel, pats the bed. “Co
me on Angel, its safe now.”
Like a golden bullet of fur, Angel takes two steps and leaps. She crushes into Mandals face, lick, lick, lick, Mandal giggles.
Hey, I,ove you too. Right here girl.”
She pats the bed, Angel curls into a ball, her eyes never leaving Mandal.
She smiles, picks up Jason’s novel and begins to re read it, a happy gal.
How sweet, two beat to hell blonds sharing a book on a Sunday after noon.
More Insanity
INSIDE THE Bar, Billy cruises past Sue, winks. Sue gulps knowing he does not know yet what she done to the Crazy Betty. Praying, in the only language she knows, to the only God she knows, she hopes Mava will defuse his world class temper before it flames out like Napalm all over her.
Wiping down the bar, she watches as Billy hands Mava the back pack. Sue hoping she gets literally fucked later, instead of getting fucked up bad by Billy, internally prays for her very life.
Three oil men walk through the door, sidle up to the bar, drawl. “Hey Sue, Tequila, Pabst all around, please.”
Sue smiles, and, then swallows, sees Billy arguing with Mava. Billy peeks at her. Sues blood becomes permafrost in her veins. She moves down the bar and if she could, she would have crawled inside of that Cuervo Gold Tequila bottle.
INSIDE THE kitchen, Art, The Yogi with a meat cleaver watches as Mava, Billy hovering, counts the cash from his backpack on to the chopping block.
“Ya done good, son.” Mava says, as she peeks at the two plastic bags sitting at Billy’s feet.
“That, yer brother’s supplies?”
Billy groans, is annoyed, sighs, stuffs his hands into his jeans and, then cynically replies. “Yeah. The genius can make his magic again.”
“Why ya gotta be like that, Billy? He’s yer blood.”
Agitated, edgy, nothing new, Billy gets attitude, snarls.
“Come on MA. What’s he gonna do? All a that writin’ and nothin’. Jest we got a lot a shit happenin’. Ain’t got time fer Jason this, Jason that.”
Mava, cold eyes, hard heart, leans in, Art watching, cleaver sharp, a truck spring ready to unwind. Billy, eyes tick, ain’t many men he’s a scared a. Art is one a them, as Mava seethes.
“Yer brother is special, a war hero. Ya treat I’m right. Soon we gonna have enough money ta take care a him right. Til then ya respect him.”
Billy, eye ticks at Art, backs off, exhales, shrugs his shoulders.
“Ya Ma. Whatever.”
End of her rope time, two sons she detests, another she love’s, everything rectified soon. Time for bidness so the idiot standing before her don’t fuck up; AGAIN.
“So ya understand how important Corpus Christie is, right? We set the distribution deal right, wit these men, we can get outta this shit hole, one day, ya understand, son?”
“Ma, ya don’t have ta keep on harpin’ on it. I get it.”
Slow fuse, molars grinding, Art with the cleaver, bout to ask him to chop her sons head off, she settles, some.
“Okay. Tanight, Speedo, want no problems, we got a good thing goin’, keep yer dick in yer pants.”
She bends, places a grey metal case on the block and, then opens it. Stacks of rubber banded hundred dollar bills glimmer back.
“Big money, Billy. Don’t loose it.”
Billy groans, slaps the case shut and lowers it to his side.
“Don’t worry Ma. Arvan’s got the truck ready. Crew is ready. Every fucking one is ready.”
Agitated, he turns, turns back from Mava’s voice.
“We had a little problem taday. Sue and Betty got inta a little tussle.”
“WHAT. What kinda tussle?”
“Nothin’. A girl thing, that’s all. Sue done banged her up a bit. Betty, said it was her fault, appologized. Honest gal, I appreciate that. Wern’t Sue’s fault, ya hear. I done want ya beatin’ on her. Clear.”
Billy irate, slathers out the words. “What the fuck da ya mean? What happened?”
Art fondles his hatchet, muscle in his Popeye’s arms bristling.
Billy notices, hard to miss a human refrigerator, he calms some.
“Ain’t important. Sue’s real sorry. Betty done the right thing, apologized. None a yer concern, leave Betty alone. Ya stay away from her, ya here. She gonna be gone soon enough. Sue’s yer woman, show some respect. Ya touch a hair on her head, Art here is gonna have a talk with ya. Ya hear?”
Teeth grinding, Billy percolates, has had enough of bein’ treated like a kid by his Ma.
“Whack.”
Meat cleaver in the chopping block and a little smile from Art as Billy smirks.
“Yeah. Sue’s a real fucking queen.”
He turns, bangs through to the bar, Mava, exchanges looks with Art. He nods as she looks back at the bar where Billy is leering at a petrified Sue.
Filled to the brim, life time of frustration keeping her two prone to violence sons from self detonating, she moves into Arts arms, gets some loving hugs, whispers into his cauliflower ear.
“Art darlin’. We gonna take Jason, kill those two son of a bitches, live happily ever after, okay?”
A man of few words, Art says lovingly. “Yeah cupcake, we gonna do that.”
Mava sighs, thinking how great life will be after she exterminates her two sons.
A sweetheart of a Ma, well there was never one better.
Sleuthing
IN THE bar, night has finally swallowed the Cox asylum, AGAIN.
Billy, staring at a nervous Sue, gets a smile, some sweetie spoken words from her.
“Hi baby, how’d go taday?”
Billy, edgy, smokes a cigarette, leers at her.
“I’ll talk ta YOU, later.”
Long stare, remembers Mava’s words, Art hatchet, he calms some.
“Later, baby.”
To Sue’s delight Crandal Bear Feather walks into the bar, diffusing Billy from her to the Indian. It’s a fox hole moment, some guy taking the bullet for you. Sue breaths, finally.
Typical Tintype Indian postcard, no woven blankets, sharp dresser, army issue 45 under the purple sport coat, he nods at Billy.
Stuffed out smoke in the ash tray, Billy moves to him, eyeballs him.
“We one with Speedo tanight, Cochise?”
Billy glances at the briefcase dangling at his legs, making sure the squaw sees it.
“Name not Cochise.”
“What the fuck ever. We on?”
One pissed off brave, knife through Billy’s ribs, take a scalp, not now, one day though and like Ma, Art, Arvan, everybody else he wants’ to see the fucking sadist dead. Still though he’s a loyal soldier, work to still be done, money to be made, he drools out his words.
“Yes, Mr. Speedo said, everything on?”
He turns, no more words, walks out the door, followed by Billy, just watching as the spook get into his red, 59 Buick, and to Billy shock, a still living miracle and riding shotgun is one, Ronnie Gee.
Looking like The Mummy, bloody bandages, toothless, is scowling, makes Billy laugh, gives him the finger. Billy laughs more as the Buick backs out, wheels throwing up gravel, dust pours to the road, screeches, as Billy says through laughter. “Fuck I’m, if they can’t take a joke.
Eyes peeking, brain remembering, he looks at the motel. He wonders how he going to sneak off some time for a little visit with his Betty later in the evening, as he whispers. “Sheet, might as well kill Sue if I’m a Ma gonna kill them too.”
Mava walks out the back door, Tupperware in her hand, towards the barn.
Billy spits, groans, thinks, Jason too, why not do them all? Why the fuck not?
As Mava disappears into the barn, Billy grins, looks around and ponders. No time like the present to visit his blond fantasy gal.
Coast clear, he turns and begins to Texas stroll, fuckin’ in his mind with his new sweet sugar cake.
HEARING the horse’s whinny, Mandal moves to the back window, watches as Mava carrying food vanishes into the barn.
“Knock, knock, knock.”
Mandal groans. “Great, who wants to fuck her now?”
Back to Betty, she opens the door, smiles. Billy’s jaw drops, looking at her cuts, swollen black eyes, butterfly stitches on her eyebrow, her cheek, here lips are even more swollen than they normally are.
“Jeeze, Betty. What the hell happened ta ya?” He instantly grows angry, “Sue done that ta ya?”
Wanting no payback done to Sue, she acts casual, light, backs up, smiles as he walks into the room. No doubt, as he does, he stares at her bruised tummy, exposed by her hip huggers. Clearly he is Jonsing for her. That is good and is a very good thing for her.
Angel curls into a tighter ball as Billy gawks at her face.
“Sue done that?”
“This, Aaah, it was nothing cowboy. Sue did the right thing. I got mouthy with her, I like her, disrespected her. She just did what girls do. I don’t blame her at all. Will you do me a favor, Billy?”
At the moment he would figure out Einstein’s Theory of Relativity if it met getting into her blond cunt.
Ready for her to ask him to beat Sue senseless, he raises his eyebrows in shock from her words.
“Listen Billy, Sue really loves you. I’ve been thinking about you...you and me...Well, if that happens, she’s gonna be real hurt...I...I...I don’t want you to beat on her...Let her be...A broken heart losin’ you will be bad enough...She’s a nice gal, ya understand, Billy. Don’t hurt her twice.”
Dream scapes are materializing before his eyes. First time in love, he is stunned and actually wants to be gallant as she touches his handsome face, lowers her eyes, raises them, and says. “Do you understand, darling?”
Is she really this devious and horrible?
Yes she is.
Billy, locked and loaded in love, says. “Ya got a good heart, Betty. I understand. (What heart) “Ya really been thinkin’ on me? Bout us?”
