trunk so we can take a look, like a big girl? Get it, Earle? Big girl?” he laughed. His broken front teeth showed like a junkyard dog’s growling at an intruder.
Charlotte stared at his mouth. She couldn’t even hear the snorting coming out of it. It filled her screen like a silent bark pushing ever closer toward her face. It was the ugliest face she’d ever seen.
“Well? I ain’t got all day, lady. Open the fuckin’ trunk!”
She had stolen two million dollars, and for what? To be robbed on some godforsaken road in Mississippi and to never get to Hollywood? How cruel was this? She contemplated jumping into the driver’s seat even at the risk of getting knifed. What difference would it make now? If they took the money, she’d have nothing to live for anyway. She’d never get to California. She’d never hear Tony Bennett sing. She’d never meet Tom Selleck.
She walked over to the car, fumbling for her trunk key. She slid it slowly into the lock and opened it. There they were: her four suitcases. Her future. The man with the knife leaned in to lift them out when he was interrupted by the old man behind the fruit stand.
“Excuse me, boys, but y’all is on my property, and I don’t like these kinda of goin’s-on here...if ya gets my gist.”
The old man pointed a fat-barreled shotgun at the gut of the man with the knife.
“It’s been at least a week since I kilt somebody, and I hate to have to end my streak. So why don’t y’all back off, get inta dat truck of yours, and drive on back ta whatever sewer you dun drove out of. I don’t want no problems here, and I don’t wanna ruin my afternoon buryin’ two big cracker boys like yourselves. That takes a heapa lot of energy, an’ I had plans to go fishin’ for some crappie later.” The old man pulled back the hammer.
The two white boys started to move away from the trunk. The old man’s calm was disconcerting. He was way too quiet—quiet enough to be scared of. Even these backwoods boys could tell that with the least amount of provocation,
bang!
and it would be over. Where they were all bravado, he was all business.
“Hey, we don’t want no trouble. We were just havin’ some fun, is all.”
“Well, get your butts back inta dat truck an’ go have your fun elsewhere. Fun’s over here.”
They moved cautiously, quickly, sliding into their old beat-up Ford.
“Hey, wait a second, son.”
The mean one stopped. The old man grabbed the five hundred dollars out of his hand and gave it back to Charlotte.
And with that, they were off, eating the same dust they’d kicked up when they arrived. Charlotte was still frozen and hadn’t found her voice yet even to thank the man. All she could think was this must be where all the extras in
Deliverance
ended up.
“You okay?” he asked. She jumped.
“I don’t know what to say. You saved my life.”
“They wasn’t gonna kill you. They was just after some extra beer money.”
She couldn’t tell the old man her life was in that car. That all the money she had to live on was stashed in small bills in the trunk.
“Take this,” she said, handing him the five hundred dollars. He looked at it and shook his head.
“Dat’s a right lot of money for two sweet potato pies, a bit o’ honey, and a coupla pecans.”
“It’s the pecans. When they’re out of season, it’s a seller’s market.”
CHAPTER 9
I T WAS CLEAR Mississippi was a force to be reckoned with. Charlotte was no longer in the mood to find music that would save her soul or set her soul free or whatever the hell it was, and she wasn’t of a mind to do any more driving. She just wanted to stop somewhere, so she decided to find another place to hang her hat for the night. She’d leave Mississippi with the morning light in time to make it to Blossom’s wake.
Otis’s Place wasn’t much to look at. It was a small weather-beaten house with a weather-beaten sign that boasted clean rooms, but it was good enough. Charlotte just wanted
Charlotte stared at his mouth. She couldn’t even hear the snorting coming out of it. It filled her screen like a silent bark pushing ever closer toward her face. It was the ugliest face she’d ever seen.
“Well? I ain’t got all day, lady. Open the fuckin’ trunk!”
She had stolen two million dollars, and for what? To be robbed on some godforsaken road in Mississippi and to never get to Hollywood? How cruel was this? She contemplated jumping into the driver’s seat even at the risk of getting knifed. What difference would it make now? If they took the money, she’d have nothing to live for anyway. She’d never get to California. She’d never hear Tony Bennett sing. She’d never meet Tom Selleck.
She walked over to the car, fumbling for her trunk key. She slid it slowly into the lock and opened it. There they were: her four suitcases. Her future. The man with the knife leaned in to lift them out when he was interrupted by the old man behind the fruit stand.
“Excuse me, boys, but y’all is on my property, and I don’t like these kinda of goin’s-on here...if ya gets my gist.”
The old man pointed a fat-barreled shotgun at the gut of the man with the knife.
“It’s been at least a week since I kilt somebody, and I hate to have to end my streak. So why don’t y’all back off, get inta dat truck of yours, and drive on back ta whatever sewer you dun drove out of. I don’t want no problems here, and I don’t wanna ruin my afternoon buryin’ two big cracker boys like yourselves. That takes a heapa lot of energy, an’ I had plans to go fishin’ for some crappie later.” The old man pulled back the hammer.
The two white boys started to move away from the trunk. The old man’s calm was disconcerting. He was way too quiet—quiet enough to be scared of. Even these backwoods boys could tell that with the least amount of provocation,
bang!
and it would be over. Where they were all bravado, he was all business.
“Hey, we don’t want no trouble. We were just havin’ some fun, is all.”
“Well, get your butts back inta dat truck an’ go have your fun elsewhere. Fun’s over here.”
They moved cautiously, quickly, sliding into their old beat-up Ford.
“Hey, wait a second, son.”
The mean one stopped. The old man grabbed the five hundred dollars out of his hand and gave it back to Charlotte.
And with that, they were off, eating the same dust they’d kicked up when they arrived. Charlotte was still frozen and hadn’t found her voice yet even to thank the man. All she could think was this must be where all the extras in
Deliverance
ended up.
“You okay?” he asked. She jumped.
“I don’t know what to say. You saved my life.”
“They wasn’t gonna kill you. They was just after some extra beer money.”
She couldn’t tell the old man her life was in that car. That all the money she had to live on was stashed in small bills in the trunk.
“Take this,” she said, handing him the five hundred dollars. He looked at it and shook his head.
“Dat’s a right lot of money for two sweet potato pies, a bit o’ honey, and a coupla pecans.”
“It’s the pecans. When they’re out of season, it’s a seller’s market.”
CHAPTER 9
I T WAS CLEAR Mississippi was a force to be reckoned with. Charlotte was no longer in the mood to find music that would save her soul or set her soul free or whatever the hell it was, and she wasn’t of a mind to do any more driving. She just wanted to stop somewhere, so she decided to find another place to hang her hat for the night. She’d leave Mississippi with the morning light in time to make it to Blossom’s wake.
Otis’s Place wasn’t much to look at. It was a small weather-beaten house with a weather-beaten sign that boasted clean rooms, but it was good enough. Charlotte just wanted
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