chips. “For the road,” he said.
He looked so god damned pathetic and sad, standing there holding that bag of chips. I had to take the chips—what else could I do? It was like his one pitiful contribution to our friendship—chips bought with hard-earned food stamps.
“Thanks,” I said, half-heartedly.
Sadie had just texted me. Come to Hardscrabble big house. Big news. Come in the kitchen service door. I didn’t want to mention that to Sequoia in light of what we’d just been discussing. So I left him in the dust, standing out front of his hovel holding his loser highball glass. I knew I should rethink my choice of friends. But there was something of the philanthropist in me, wanting to help Sequoia out of the muck. To raise him up to the noble level of a proper native. To help him realize his potential. Or some such shit.
Come in the kitchen service door . It fucking figured.
I was finally “allowed” into the big house, and I had to come in the entrance reserved for black people, Mexicans, and other service types.
In fact, a Mexican lady probably called Maria or Josefina let me into the kitchen. We had a lot of those at the ranch in Paducah, so I spoke passable Spanish.
“ Buenas tardes. Cómo va tu día?”
“Está bien, gracias ,” said Maria.
Sadie was perched on an enormously long butcher block table smoking a cigarette. I smoked now and then, but I didn’t think a guy whose wife had just passed of cancer would appreciate someone smoking indoors. In his kitchen, no less.
I sunk my fingers into my jean pockets and gave Sadie my best hangdog look. Whatever I’d done, I was sorry for it. It was a look I’d perfected over seventeen years.
“David. I finally convinced Cliff to let you live with us.”
Suddenly, what I’d wanted for so long sounded like the stupidest prize in the world. Why the fuck would I even want to live under the same roof as Cliff Pleasure and his evil spawn? “That’s great, mom, but you see, his daughter and I hate each other. I appreciate all your hard work, but I don’t think—”
“Hate her? Oh, no. Oh, lord. She seems like a perfectly friendly person to me, David. And you don’t know how much I really, really need you to get along with her. I know she has her moods—”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, boy. That’s an understatement.”
“—and can be, well, maybe sort of a bitch sometimes—”
“You said it, not me.”
“—but you see, there’s a family picnic thing coming up for the Modern Committee. We’re going to need you and April to attend with us, you know, make a big show of being civil.” She got up and tossed her lit cig into the sink. “Don’t you think you can do that? I’ll see about getting you a bedroom as far as possible from April, don’t you worry.”
It started to occur to me how much havoc I could wreak living under the same roof as April. We both held things over each other’s heads. Neither one of us would be the first to break. The tension would be delicious. It would be sinful training for my rodeo skills, to keep her on edge, to dish out the stress just enough so she didn’t quite crack. I could break her, in other words, like a green-broke filly.
“Alright. I trust you and Cliff,” I lied.
“Come to dinner tonight.”
“In the big dining room?” I taunted.
Sadie frowned. She could look quite used up when she drank too much, was too tired or hungover. She looked like hell right now. “Yes, of course the big dining room. And what’s wrong with you? Been playing in the rodeo again? Why aren’t you in school?”
I was spared answering as the double doors swung open, and the man of the house himself strode in his fancy cowboy boots.
“David,” he said grandly, holding his hand out for me to shake.
Sadie said, “He prefers to be called Dyno.”
“Dyno. Great rodeo name.”
“Yeah,” I said, breaking the handshake. “That’s why I picked it. We had unofficial pretrials at the arena last night. I stayed
He looked so god damned pathetic and sad, standing there holding that bag of chips. I had to take the chips—what else could I do? It was like his one pitiful contribution to our friendship—chips bought with hard-earned food stamps.
“Thanks,” I said, half-heartedly.
Sadie had just texted me. Come to Hardscrabble big house. Big news. Come in the kitchen service door. I didn’t want to mention that to Sequoia in light of what we’d just been discussing. So I left him in the dust, standing out front of his hovel holding his loser highball glass. I knew I should rethink my choice of friends. But there was something of the philanthropist in me, wanting to help Sequoia out of the muck. To raise him up to the noble level of a proper native. To help him realize his potential. Or some such shit.
Come in the kitchen service door . It fucking figured.
I was finally “allowed” into the big house, and I had to come in the entrance reserved for black people, Mexicans, and other service types.
In fact, a Mexican lady probably called Maria or Josefina let me into the kitchen. We had a lot of those at the ranch in Paducah, so I spoke passable Spanish.
“ Buenas tardes. Cómo va tu día?”
“Está bien, gracias ,” said Maria.
Sadie was perched on an enormously long butcher block table smoking a cigarette. I smoked now and then, but I didn’t think a guy whose wife had just passed of cancer would appreciate someone smoking indoors. In his kitchen, no less.
I sunk my fingers into my jean pockets and gave Sadie my best hangdog look. Whatever I’d done, I was sorry for it. It was a look I’d perfected over seventeen years.
“David. I finally convinced Cliff to let you live with us.”
Suddenly, what I’d wanted for so long sounded like the stupidest prize in the world. Why the fuck would I even want to live under the same roof as Cliff Pleasure and his evil spawn? “That’s great, mom, but you see, his daughter and I hate each other. I appreciate all your hard work, but I don’t think—”
“Hate her? Oh, no. Oh, lord. She seems like a perfectly friendly person to me, David. And you don’t know how much I really, really need you to get along with her. I know she has her moods—”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, boy. That’s an understatement.”
“—and can be, well, maybe sort of a bitch sometimes—”
“You said it, not me.”
“—but you see, there’s a family picnic thing coming up for the Modern Committee. We’re going to need you and April to attend with us, you know, make a big show of being civil.” She got up and tossed her lit cig into the sink. “Don’t you think you can do that? I’ll see about getting you a bedroom as far as possible from April, don’t you worry.”
It started to occur to me how much havoc I could wreak living under the same roof as April. We both held things over each other’s heads. Neither one of us would be the first to break. The tension would be delicious. It would be sinful training for my rodeo skills, to keep her on edge, to dish out the stress just enough so she didn’t quite crack. I could break her, in other words, like a green-broke filly.
“Alright. I trust you and Cliff,” I lied.
“Come to dinner tonight.”
“In the big dining room?” I taunted.
Sadie frowned. She could look quite used up when she drank too much, was too tired or hungover. She looked like hell right now. “Yes, of course the big dining room. And what’s wrong with you? Been playing in the rodeo again? Why aren’t you in school?”
I was spared answering as the double doors swung open, and the man of the house himself strode in his fancy cowboy boots.
“David,” he said grandly, holding his hand out for me to shake.
Sadie said, “He prefers to be called Dyno.”
“Dyno. Great rodeo name.”
“Yeah,” I said, breaking the handshake. “That’s why I picked it. We had unofficial pretrials at the arena last night. I stayed
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