by Steph Post
When he had approached the salvage yard, the place had appeared to be closed. The double bay doors of the garage were pulled down and the dirt lot in front of the office trailer was empty except for four used cars lined up with prices spray-painted across their windshields. The sign out front announced to any possible buyer that as long as he was an American and could pay cash, any car was his for a steal. Judah eyed the cars, each dripping rust and missing something-an antenna, door handle, front tire, back window-and wondered which one the key in his pocket would unlock. He walked past the line of cars and climbed the rickety steps up to the trailer. The door rattled when he pounded against the thin, painted metal, but there was no answer. He hopped down from the steps and had been about to peer into the garage windows when he heard a familiar voice calling from across the street.
“Hey there, brother! They finally let you outta the can?”
Judah had turned around to see Benji walking straight across the road, not bothering to look out for traffic, carrying a Styrofoam take-out box from Sarden’s Barbeque up the street. Judah had shaded his eyes against the sun and grinned as he waited for him to cross. When he made it to the lot, Benji tossed the take-out box onto the hood of one of the parked cars and enveloped Judah in a hug. They pounded each other’s backs a few times and then Judah took a step back to look at his younger, and favorite, brother.
Benji was the baby of the Cannon family and even at twenty-five still looked it. Whereas Levi had the bullish looks of Sherwood and Judah was a darker, strained version of Levi, Benji had inherited his soft features all from their mother. His sandy blond hair flopped in his eyes and curled up at the back of his neck. His eyes sparkled a pale blue and showed no trace of Levi’s unpredictable anger or Judah’s brooding and doubt. He was generally happy-go-lucky and was the only Cannon family member who got free drinks in a bar because he was liked, not because he was feared. It was exactly this likeability, accompanied by his inability to keep his mouth shut to anyone, especially whatever girl he was entertaining that week, which lead Sherwood and Levi not to trust him. Benji was always willing to help out with whatever odd job Sherwood might need to be done, but he was usually passed over. The rest of the Cannon family and crew was forever exasperated by Benji’s flippancy and carelessness, but Judah didn’t mind. His younger brother had always been able to make him smile, and in Judah’s world that counted for something.
Benji picked up his box of barbeque and dug the office keys out of his jumper pocket.
“Come on inside. I’m sweating like a whore in church out here. I heard em saying on the radio this morning that it were gonna be the hottest day of the year so far. Record high by this afternoon. I just got me one of them window units going, don’t work for shit, but it’s better than nothing.”
Judah had laughed at Benji’s ability to curse and grin at the same time and followed his brother into the cramped office. The flimsy floor creaked beneath their boots and the air conditioner buzzed and dripped from the window, but it was cooler than outside and Judah was glad to take a load off for a moment. Benji stashed his food in a little mini fridge underneath the desk and then leaned back in the rolling chair. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of a drawer and tossed it to Judah.
“You here bout a car?”
Judah lit a cigarette and slid the pack back across the desk.
“Yeah, I guess so. Shit, Benji, I don’t even know.”
Benji tossed his lighter up in the air and caught it. He tossed it again and rocked backwards in the chair.
“What’re you talking about? You staying in Silas? When Levi called me up saying you needed a car, I figured you was planning on hanging round for a spell.”
Judah blew out a stream of smoke.
“Yeah, I am. I mean, I guess I am. Me and Cassie are through. Don’t see no point in going back up to Colston.”
“Then what’s the problem? You’re talking like somebody already rained on your parade and I don’t think you even been in town long enough to have one.”
Judah had wanted to say something to Benji, something about his trepidation toward being back around his family, but knew that he wouldn’t understand. Benji didn’t have to worry about what Sherwood was going to ask him to do next, because Sherwood would never ask him in the first place. Judah loved Benji, and wanted to confide in him, but knew it was better to keep his thoughts to himself. He crushed his cigarette out in the plastic ashtray on the corner of the desk and tried to force the feeling of dread away.
“You’re right. And I’m sure I’ll be around for a while. Don’t got no place else to go anyhow.”
“You planning on staying shacked up over at Ramey’s?”
Judah looked at his brother, wide-eyed.
“How in the hell does everybody know about…”
Benji interrupted him and laughed.
“You’re back in Silas, brother. This town ain’t big enough to keep no secrets. Everybody knows everything bout everybody, usually for it even happens.”
“I knew there was a reason I moved away.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t get sour bout it. Sides, Ramey’s a helluva girl. Surprised it took you guys this long to get together.”
Judah ignored Benji’s smirk and pulled the key out of his pocket.
“So, what does this get me? I’m hoping for the Datsun with the crack across the windshield.”
Judah tossed it into Benji’s lap and Benji picked up and laughed.
“Man, not one of them cars out front will last you more’n a week. You’d be better off riding a bicycle with one wheel.”
Judah smiled.
“Well, that makes more sense, now. I was starting to worry that the Cannons were getting into the legit car dealing business when I saw that sign out front. I was afraid I’d walk up in here and see you wearing a suit, playing solitaire on a computer or some shit. ”
Benji stretched his neck to look out the office window at the sad row of cars.
“That’d be the day. Nah, just trying to make the place look a little more respectable, that’s all.”
Judah raised his eyebrows.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Benji turned back to Judah with a sheepish grin on his face.
“And there might be this one girl I’m going after. She’s kinda outta my league, so I’m trying to make an impression.”
“Well, I think that heap of cars out front will definitely make an impression.”
“You think so?”
Judah kept his face straight.
“Sure. But not the kind you’re going for.”
Benji laughed and stood up with the key in hand.
“Well, guess I’ll just have to resort to my winning personality. Come on, this is for the Bronco I got out back. Help me change the spark plugs and she’ll run like a charm.”
It had been nice to kick around the salvage yard with his brother for a few hours, drinking beers and getting grease under his nails again. He hadn’t wanted to leave once they were finished with the Bronco, but when a redhead pulled up in a midnight blue Trans Am and batted her eyes at Benji, he had felt it was best to be on his way.
Judah glanced at the clock display on the stove. Five thirty. He had no idea what time Ramey was going to be home, or if she even wanted him to be there when she returned. He hoped she did. She had said something last night about a key under the broken terra cotta flower pot by the front door if he needed a place to stay while he figured things out. Well, he guessed that was exactly what he was trying to do, so this was as good as any a place to do so.
Judah had his hand on the refrigerator handle when the inevitable happened. The cellphone on the kitchen table vibrated. He turned around and looked at it. It buzzed and vibrated again. Judah kept his grip on the door handle and watched it vibrate a third time. He grit his teeth and snapped it up on the fourth.
“What?”
Sherwood breathed hard into the phone.
“You gonna take all day to answer the pho
ne?”
“I was busy.”
“Yeah, well get un-busy.”
Judah heard the sound of a key clicking in the apartment door lock.
“Why, what’s going on?”
He turned and watched Ramey come in the front door carrying a paper grocery bag. She kicked the door closed and smiled in his direction. As soon as their eyes met, however, her face fell.
“I gotta tell you everything? Where are you? You shacked up over at that broad’s house?”
Judah turned away from Ramey as she came into the kitchen and set the grocery bag down on the counter.
“Is that really necessary?”
“Hell, I known Ramey since she was running round our front yard yanking the heads off Barbie dolls. I can call her whatever I want.”
Ramey crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned back against the counter. Judah raised his eyebrows at her, but she wasn’t buying it. He walked out of the kitchen into the living room.
“Yeah, I’m at her place.”
“Good, you’re not too far then. We’ll pick you up in about five minutes.”
Judah sat down on the arm of the loveseat and poked at a run in the orange, corded upholstery.
“Who’s we? And what are you picking me up for? I thought I said…”
Sherwood snorted in disgust and cut him off. He could picture exactly the way his father’s mouth twisted in response to Judah’s protest.
“You got your head up your ass or something? I ain’t got time to explain it now. Just be outside waiting.”
Sherwood hung up, but it took Judah a moment to do the same. He was turning the phone over and over in his hand when Ramey came into the living room, arms still crossed, and leaned on the doorjamb. He kept his eyes on the phone in his hand, knowing that she was waiting for him to say something, but having nothing to say. Finally, she broke the silence.
“Sherwood?”
Judah nodded and tossed the cellphone onto the coffee table. His mouth was set in a hard line, but he still didn’t look up at her.
“I’m guessing he’s not calling to invite you to Sunday dinner.”
“Nope.”
Ramey blew a stray length of hair out of her face and cocked her head.
“You’re not even back in town forty-eight hours and he’s already asking you to do a job with him, ain’t he?”
Judah banged the bottom of the loveseat a few times with the heel of his boot and finally raised his eyes up to meet hers. He started to explain himself, to come up with an excuse as he had so many times before, with Cassie, with other girls. The familiar honey, it’s not like that or you don’t know what you’re talking about was on the tip of his tongue, but he could tell from the look in Ramey’s eyes that bullshitting would get him nowhere.
“Yep.”
“Are you going to?”
Her tone was biting. She wasn’t nagging him; she was demanding to know where he stood. She needed him to know more than she needed to know herself and Judah recognized this. He knew what his heart wanted, but he also knew that Sherwood was right. Judah squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed the suffocating tightness in his throat. Sherwood was always right.
“I am.”
THEY RODE together in silence. Levi had clicked the radio on in the beat-up Chevy Suburban and twisted the dial until he found his favorite radio station, WDNT, out of Alachua, but Sherwood had switched it off as soon as the bass vibrated the speakers. Levi had protested for a moment, but Sherwood had told him to just shut up and keep driving, he needed some peace and quiet to think. Judah, sitting alone in the backseat of the truck, had said nothing. In a sick, but comforting way, it was like old times again: Sherwood and Levi sitting up front, knowing the plan but fighting over trivial issues, and Judah riding in back, staring out at the passing trees in the glow from the headlights, just going along for the ride. This scene had played itself out in the same way at least a dozen times since Judah had first been invited to come along, back when he was still in high school.
That first ride had taken him to the trailer of a meth junkie and cock fight bookie who owed Sherwood some money. Judah had been told to wait in the car, he remembered it was a red Buick with mauve upholstery across the long bench seat, and he had listened. When Sherwood and Levi returned from the singlewide, his father was carrying a folded envelope and his brother was sporting a set of bleeding knuckles. They had laughed when they got in the front seat and Levi had reached over and grabbed Judah’s shoulder, shaking him and then slapping him on the back. His hand had left a smear of blood on the edge of Judah’s T-shirt collar. Before Sherwood had put the car in gear, he had opened the envelope and peeled two bills from the wad of cash. He had tossed them into Judah’s lap and when asked what they were for, Sherwood had grinned and told him that it was just for going along for the ride. Judah had spent the two hundred dollars on a four barrel Holley carb for the 1964 Chevelle he and Benji were rebuilding in the back yard and had waited, with anticipation and with dread, to be asked to go along again.
Sometimes the jobs were like the first one, collecting a debt or strong-arming someone who didn’t see eye to eye with the Cannon family’s prerogatives. Sometimes it was outright stealing, sometimes it was about drugs, other times just money, or a scheme that had gone wrong, or a lie, or a betrayal. Sometimes Judah was only the getaway driver, sometimes he was standing up next to his brother, a tire iron, a length of chain or a 12 gauge gripped in his hands, as he let Sherwood do the talking and Levi initiate the violence. Judah usually just stood there, trying to look tough, trying to feel nothing, and hoping that he wouldn’t be called on to act. So far, he had only fired shots into tires and once up into the rafters of a tractor shed and once out into the night. Never at a person.
“So, little brother, what’d you think of your stint in the big house?”
Levi, unable to take the silence any longer, dragged Judah away from his wandering thoughts and anchored him back in the present. Judah turned away from the window and looked at his brother through the settling darkness in the truck. Judah could see half of his brother’s face reflected in the sickly green glow from the dash.
“Well, it sucked. What’d you think? Nice of you to come visit everyone once in a while.”
Judah couldn’t hold back his sarcasm, but Levi just shrugged his thick shoulders and kept his eyes on the road.
“Hey man, that’s just the way it goes. Trust me, it’s easier when you can just focus on doing the time. When I was in there the first go round Susan was pregnant with Carl and she wouldn’t stop coming by to show me shit. Ultrasounds and test results and all kinda doctor paperwork that I couldn’t read nothing of no how. Every time I’d get to where I was in a groove they’d haul me up and I’d have to sit and talk with her and hear bout her morning sickness or her headaches or God knows what else that I don’t want to know about.”
“Sounds rough.”
“Seriously, man, when I went back in that second time I told her that if she started showing up with little league pictures or wanting to talk bout her mama or God forbid those damn breeding Chihuahuas I was gonna leave her ass. I told her flat out, and I meant it. And let me tell you, brother, that second time round was a helluva lot easier. Weren’t even half bad at times.”
Judah cracked the window and searched his pockets for his cigarettes.
“Probably helped that you were only in there for a year that time, too. How’s Susan doing anyway?”
He didn’t really care, but he guessed it was what he was supposed to ask after not seeing his brother for three years. He pulled a crooked cigarette out of the pack and straightened it between his fingers.
“She’s nuts like always. But let me tell you, she ain’t got nothing on this piece of tail Carol over in…”
Sherwood banged his fist on the passenger side of the dashboard and cut Levi off before he could finish.
“For the love of God, son, will you just shut your damn flapping trap?”
Levi gr
ipped the steering wheel tighter, but closed his mouth and kept his eyes on the road. Sherwood shifted around in his seat so that he could see Judah as well as Levi. Judah concentrated on lighting his cigarette.
“Now if you two are finished doing your hair and nails, catching up on old times, we need to go over the plan again. We’ll be there in less than half an hour and I don’t want no stupid mistakes on this one.”
Judah blew a stream of smoke out of his nose and looked back out the window.
“You never told me the plan in the first place. I don’t even know what the deal is.”
Judah knew that Sherwood was staring hard at him, but he wouldn’t return the look. He kept his eyes on the trees, starkly illuminated by the truck’s passing headlights.
“The deal, son, is probably the biggest score we ever pulled in our lives, so I hope you’re gonna be ready.”
Judah still didn’t look at his father.
“I’m ready. Now what is it?”
Sherwood explained the situation. Last Wednesday a man had come to the salvage yard looking for the Cannons.
“Idiot looking fella too. Like maybe his pants were on too tight, squeezing his balls or something. Had a girly, wheezy voice. Complete sucker.”
At first Sherwood had told the man to get lost, but he kept on about needing them to do a job for him. Sherwood had been suspicious, but decided to hear the man out. He seemed too pathetic to be lying or setting Sherwood up, so Sherwood had called Levi into the garage to listen to the man’s offer.
“Still not exactly sure how a chump like that ended up with that kinda information, but hell, to each their own.”
The man had told Sherwood about an outlaw motorcycle club up in the central part of Bradford County, a little ways outside of Kentsville. They called themselves the Scorpions and Sherwood had vaguely heard something about them. They were a small outfit that had only ever shown up on the radar for dealing a little meth, banging up a few bars and busting a few skulls.
“My friend Alvers, up at the VFW, had a cousin whose son tried to make it with one of the Scorpions’ old ladies and they came to his house and bashed his face in with a ball peen hammer. Still, they ain’t no Mongols or Hell’s Angels, that’s for sure.”
