Red Dirt Blues

by David K. Wilson

“How much are we talking about?” she asked.

  “Five hundred dollars,” Jade said. “But they pay upon delivery, so we have to ship them out first.”

  “Five hundred?” Amy Jo exclaimed. “Are you shitting me?”

  “But we gotta ship them out right away,” Jade said, looking to Randy. “Right, Hon?”

  Randy nodded. Amy Jo nodded, too, pretending to be smarter than she was.

  “I imagine you have to pack them up with one of those certificates of authority,” she said. “Like on QVC.”

  “Certificate of authenticity,” Jade corrected, getting really annoyed with this woman.

  Amy Jo rolled her eyes at Jade’s grammar correction and dropped the gun.

  “You better not be pulling a fast one over me, Randy Philpot,” she said.

  “You know me better than that,” Randy said as he and Jade started walking back toward his truck.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. Can you throw me that boot?” the man yelled out as Jade walked past a brown work boot.

  She picked it up, turned and hurled it a little harder than necessary. As he ducked to avoid it, he accidentally yanked the blanket away from Amy Jo, exposing her naked body. She let out a yelp and immediately dropped out of sight.

  47

  The black pickup truck sat stubbornly on the side of the road with its hood up. Viktor leaned against the side of the truck, trying to remain calm. As the sun had risen higher in the sky, so had the temperature, and the crime boss had shed his suit coat and was even flirting with the thought of loosening his tie.

  Leo and Peter, both tieless and with sleeves rolled up, were drenched in sweat.

  “This is heat I’ve not known,” Peter complained. “Why do people live in it?”

  “Da. At least in cold you can put on coat,” Leo replied as he looked at the engine in frustration.

  “What do you think you will see in there?” Peter taunted his twin. “You know nothing about engines. It is clear we have run out of fuel.”

  “I told you we should have filled up at petrol station,” Leo said.

  “I did not trust it,” Peter argued. “The petrol was probably watered down.”

  “This is not Russia,” Leo argued back. “This is Texas. This is where they make petrol. Have you not seen oil towers everywhere.”

  “Would you both shut up?” Viktor snapped.

  He looked down the empty, two-lane road in front of them, it’s narrow path slicing through the countryside and disappearing into the woods.

  “How much to go?” he asked.

  Leo and Peter looked at each other, hoping the other had the answer. Peter finally spoke up.

  “Eight kilometers?” he said.

  Viktor nodded and took a deep inhale.

  “Then we walk.”

  “It is getting hotter,” Leo said.

  Viktor ignored Leo and began to walk down the road with a cold determination. Leo and Peter scrambled to gather their guns and run after him.

  48

  As soon as Randy pulled his truck back on to the narrow road, Jade began to pull the small goat pendants from the bag, checking each one for a red dot.

  “I thought he got rid of all of those,” Randy said.

  “He has more of these?” Jade asked as she continued her search.

  “Gets ‘em all the time,” Randy explained. “Hands ‘em out like candy. There’ll probably be more than a few at the funeral,” he said.

  Jade pulled the last goat pendant out. No red dot.

  “Damnit!” she yelled, throwing the entire bag on the floorboard in frustration.

  Randy stared straight ahead, not sure what to do or say but afraid of making things worse. He could sense Jade’s rage and worried she might take it out on him. Fortunately, she was distracted by the vibration of her cell phone. She looked at the incoming text and sighed, directing Randy to pull off to the side of the road. Without an explanation, she stepped out of the truck and made a call.

  “Do you have it yet?” Donovan Fontaine asked upon answering the call.

  “Not yet,” Jade replied, trying to sound cool and in control. “But I’ve narrowed down the possibilities.”

  “I thought you said this would be in and out.”

  “Well, I’ve had to go further in than originally anticipated, but it’s all under control.”

  “Viktor Petrov’s flight landed in Dallas this morning,” Donovan said.

  Jade’s heart sank. She had hoped she’d have more time.

  “The good news is, he laid low in Dallas while a decoy unit sent the FBI off on a wild goose chase,” Donovan continued. “That should buy you a little time.”

  “Do you have an ETA on when he’ll get here?” Jade asked.

  “Two hours? Three?”

  Jade looked back at the truck, her mind speeding through a million possible solutions.

  “They’ll likely follow the same order of possible hiding places as I did, which will buy me a little more time,” she said. “I’ve got one more move and then I’m bailing.”

  “Dare I ask what you have planned?” Donovan asked.

  Jade rubbed the tension from the bridge of her nose.

  “I’m going to a funeral.”

  49

  Dean’s rental car pulled into the empty parking lot of The Lazy Goat. He had now been up well over 24 hours and was running on fumes, adrenaline and lukewarm caffeine.

  Staring at the store from inside his car, Dean’s stomach did somersaults as he loaded a mag into the FBI-issued Glock 9mm he had never really used aside from target practice.

  Finding the front door locked, he walked around to the back of the store and turned the knob of the rear entrance. He was surprised, but also relieved, to find that it opened easily.

  He walked carefully through the back storeroom, his gun drawn and heart pounding. Other than target practice, which he still did regularly, he had never held a gun outside of training. He found himself mimicking cops on TV as he moved quietly, trying to hear more than his own heavy breathing.

  He finally stopped at the entrance to the showroom. The sun gleamed through the showroom windows, bathing it in bright light. Even though he hadn’t seen anyone inside when he had looked through the windows, he couldn’t be certain. He also knew that, as soon as he stepped through the open doorway, he would be visible—and vulnerable—to anyone. So, he waited. Listening carefully for any sign of life.

  Then he saw it.

  A shadow moved quickly across the floor. Or at least that’s what he thought he saw. If he was right, that would mean someone was standing just outside the door. Possibly Jade waiting for him to walk into a trap. He had two choices. He could retreat back in the showroom and try to draw her to him. He would not only be hidden in the dark, but he’d be able to see her when she stepped through the entry way. But he had a feeling Jade was too smart to do that. Which left him with his second option. He could use the element of surprise and confront her right now. Even if she were waiting to ambush him, she didn’t know Dean was on to her. If he acted quickly, he could catch her off guard before she even knew what happened. It was definitely the more dangerous, reckless option. Maybe he did have a death wish. Or maybe he was tired of always retreating. Either way, he knew he’d rather go on the offense than fall back on the defense.

  Before he could talk himself out of it, Dean gripped his gun with both hands, extended his arms and locked his elbows. He took a deep breath and spun through the entry way, pointing his gun toward his assailant.

  “FBI. Freeze!” he yelled, realizing that the shadow person yelled “Freeze!” at the same time.

  Standing three feet in front of him, with his own gun drawn, was a man in a sheriff’s uniform.

  “Drop your weapon,” the sheriff yelled.

  “I’m FBI,” Dean yelled back, sweat pouring off his forehead.

  The two men were both frozen, pointing their respective firearms at the other.

  “Let’s see some ID,” the sheriff yelled.
r />   Dean realized that the only risk he now faced was a miscommunication with a trigger-happy local sheriff. He raised his gun in surrender.

  “It’s in my chest pocket,” Dean said.

  “Don’t move,” the sheriff yelled, still unsure. “Put your hands on the counter.”

  Dean nodded and turned toward the counter. He set the gun down gently and moved it away from his hands as a sign of surrender. The sheriff quickly pushed it even further away and, with his own pistol still trained on Dean, reached into the agent’s chest pocket and pulled out his federal ID. When he realized that Dean was, in fact, a federal agent, Sheriff McKinley’s shoulders dropped in a mixture of relief and disappointment.

  He gave Dean his ID back and slid his gun back to him.

  “You could have gotten yourself killed,” the sheriff admonished.

  “I could say the same,” Dean said back.

  “Can I ask what you’re doing snooping around a closed store?” the sheriff asked.

  “I have reason to believe that a very dangerous woman may be in your town,” Dean replied.

  The sheriff grinned, his suspicions validated.

  “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

  50

  Having left in such a rush earlier, Randy was fully prepared to face the wrath of his mother. But when he and Jade walked into the house, the only thing that hit him was the unmistakable smell of cabbage and onions.

  “Randall?” Mama’s voice yelled from the kitchen. “That’d better be you.”

  Randy and Jade walked into the kitchen to find Mama, still wearing her blue housedress and giant rollers, standing over the stove and stirring a large pot.

  “You better have a damn good reason for leaving me like a turd on a toadstool this morning.”

  Randy started to give his mom the excuse he had practiced the entire drive back from Willy’s, but Jade interjected.

  “We’re sorry, Mama,” she said with a thick helping of Southern sincerity. “Randy was just so upset about his brother that I told him he needed to go grieve for a little while. So he could be strong enough for you later. It was my fault.”

  Mama looked up at Jade’s forlorn face. Randy stood behind her and nodded solemnly, hoping it would be enough to pacify his mother. When he saw her stern expression start to melt, he knew it worked.

  “Oh my Lord, come here child,” she said to Randy, holding up her arms to take him in for a bear hug. “In all my grieving and dealing with everything, I totally forgot how this was hurting you, too.”

  “You got enough on your plate, Mama,” Randy added. “I didn’t want to add my burden to yours.”

  Mama kissed her son tenderly on the forehead.

  “Clyde touched us all,” Mama said. “I appreciate you doing it on your own time. But in the future, you need to let me in on your plans. You hear?”

  Randy nodded.

  “Speaking of plates,” she said as she released Randy and turned her attention back to the pot in front of her. “You’re just in time for lunch.”

  “Don’t we have to get ready for the funeral?” Randy asked.

  “You need food,” Mama said.

  She yelled out for Pauline, who shuffled in wearing an old terrycloth robe, bright red lipstick and her perpetually askew wig. She smiled at Randy and Jade and plopped down in one of the four chairs that were positioned around a small red table. Mama ladled out the contents of the pot in a bowl, then sat it down in front of Pauline.

  “Here you go, Pauline,” Mama said.

  “I hate boiled cabbage” Pauline griped.

  “You loved it yesterday. Look. I even put the little marshmallows in it to sweeten it up for you,” Mama replied matter of factly. “You two sit down.”

  “We’ve got a lot to do,” Randy protested. “Jen needs something to wear to the funeral.”

  Mama stopped mid-ladle and looked at Jade.

  “Who comes to a funeral and don’t bring no clothes?” she asked.

  Before Jade could reply, Mama pointed to the table, shaking her head.

  “You can borrow something from Pauline,” she said. “But you’re gonna eat first.”

  Unsure what to do, Randy looked at Jade for permission. He was serving two masters now and it was beginning to overwhelm him. Jade nodded and Randy let out a sigh of relief. The couple sat down, disgustingly mesmerized by Pauline, who would slurp up a piece of cabbage then spit half of it back in the bowl. After a few half-hearted half-slurps, she pushed the bowl away.

  “I’m full,” she scowled.

  Mama snatched the bowl away and Jade watched as she poured the half-eaten cabbage back in the pot. Then, without missing a beat, she ladled out another helping from the same pot and sat it in front of Jade. Jade looked down at the recycled cabbage stew. Half-melted mini-marshmallows floated in the concoction and Jade could actually see Pauline’s lipstick stains on some of the cabbage.

  “We only got leftovers until Randy can get the shop back in order,” Mama explained.

  “I’m selling the shop, Mama,” Randy said. “It loses more money than it makes.”

  “You will do no such thing,” Mama snapped as she sat a bowl in front of her son. “That’s your brother’s legacy and you’re gonna honor it.”

  Jade watched as Randy spooned up his own lipstick-painted cabbage and marshmallow stew and ate it without hesitation. Mama sat down on the other side of her and began slurping up her serving. Jade had traveled all over the world and had eaten all kinds of bizarre and exotic foods without flinching. Live bugs in the Amazon rainforest. Tuna eyeballs in Japan. Monkey brains in India. Maybe it was the odd combination of questionable ingredients. Maybe it was knowing her lunch had been spit up by a geriatric toothless woman. Or maybe it was the sound of Randy and Mama’s slurp symphony being performed in stereo on either side of her. For some reason, this meal was going to require all the discipline and concentration Jade could muster. She lifted a spoonful to her lips, looking up just as Pauline removed her teeth to dislodge a piece of cabbage from them.

  51

  Once Jade forced herself past the mental barrier of knowing she was eating someone else’s spit-up, she was surprised to find the soup wasn’t half bad. She would slit anyone’s throat that tried to force her to eat it again, but she had eaten worse foods in her life.

  After demanding that everyone stop and eat lunch, Mama was now panicked that they were running late.

  “Everyone is gonna be looking at us,” she had warned. “Do not embarrass me.”

  She took Jade by the hand and led her into Pauline’s room, where she rifled through the closet until she found what she was looking for. Pulling something off a hanger, she held it out in front of Jade. It was a floor-length, black evening dress that was probably very fashionable…in the early seventies. If the super-sized lapels and ornate gold button trim didn’t immediately date it, then the stiff double-knit polyester material did.

  “This used to be one of Pauline’s,” Mama said.

  Jade looked over Mama’s shoulder, hoping to find an alternative hanging in the closet.

  “But my sister used to be a real head-turner,” Mama said, sifting through the memories that the dress awoke.

  She handed the dress to Jade and grabbed a framed photo off of a shelf. It was an old black and white photo of a beautiful woman and a handsome man. They both looked like movie stars.

  “That was her husband,” Mama said, handing the photo to Jade. “Right after they got married. He got killed in Vietnam.”

  She took the photo back and placed it gently on the shelf.

  “She never remarried but I guarantee you she was still turning heads up until not that long ago,” Mama continued. “Nobody can outrun age, I guess. Anyway, this dress’ll look good on you. A black dress never goes out of style. And you can barely see the stains.”

  Jade held the dress out in front of her and Mama turned back to the closet, pulling down a shoe box from a shelf.

  “She got shoes to match,�
�� Mama said. “I’m hoping they fit. If not, you can go barefoot. Lots of folks do in the summer.”

  She handed the shoe box to Jade.

  “You’re gonna look beautiful no matter what,” she said gently.

  Jade actually felt her cheeks blush.

  “Randall really likes you,” Mama said. “I can tell.”

  Jade wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “You don’t gotta say nothing,” Mama said. “I see the way he looks at you. And I see the way you look back. It ain’t the same. But that’s okay. It’ll come with time. He’s a good man.”

  “He is,” Jade found herself saying.

  And she meant it. Randy had been a pain in the ass, but it was clear he was a good person. Decent and caring. He could use a little bit of backbone, but with someone like Mama whipping him down, Jade could see why he had such little confidence.

  “He sure does love you,” Jade said. “Maybe a little too much.”

  What am I doing? she thought. Do not get this lady riled up. Do not get involved.

  “There ain’t no such thing as a boy loving his mama too much,” Mama replied with a smile.

  “Well, except if it stops him from being all the man he should be,” Jade said, speaking slowly and carefully. “There are things he wants to do with his life, but he’s afraid you’ll hate him for going after them.”

  Even though she tried to hide it, Mama was clearly shocked by what she was hearing.

  “That’s just foolish talk,” she said. “I would never stand in his way. Hell, I worked two jobs just so he could go off to school to be an eye doctor and then he just up and quits.”

  “He came back to help take care of you,” Jade pointed out. “After your husband died.”

  Mama was visibly shaken, but was growing more defensive.

  “You don’t know,” she said. “Who are you coming in my house and telling me about my son?”

  Jade nodded.

  “You’re right. I’m way out of line and I apologize.”