said, “Hey, you’re getting me all wet.”
“I was standing behind him. Gripped the Cold Duck bottle with two hands, swung it like a baseball bat, hit him on the side of his head, and believe me I got all of it. Would’ve been an off-the-wall double. The bottle exploded and he went down, crashing to the floor and didn’t move. The skinny geek manager behind the counter whose name was Jerry asked if I could find everything okay? And was there anything else I needed.”
Teddy drank some beer and played air guitar to “Lookout Mountain” by the Drive-By Truckers, looking over at her occasionally, grinning.
“I said, ‘Jer-Bear, I need two packs of Marlboro Lights, some Juicy Fruit, a couple of Nestlé’s Crunches, a twelve of MGD and a bottle of Cold Duck.’ And while he was getting everything together, I thought, what the hell. He put it all on the counter, looked up at me and I said, ‘There is one more thing—I’ll take your money, too, all of it, including the big bills under the tray.’ I had the.38 Ruger pointed at him. He cleaned out the register and asked me if I wanted a bag. ‘No, dumbshit,’ I said, ‘I’m going to walk out of here, let everyone see the moneyI just robbed.’ Know what he said then? ‘Paper or plastic?’ You believe it?”
Teddy’s eyes were glued to her now. “What kind of dumbfuck stunt was that? You don’t go in, rob a place by yourself—you don’t know who’s in the back watching you on a video monitor, come out with a shotgun.”
“It just happened. Police would’ve come one way or the other. I figured I’d take advantage of the situation. What’s the problem? You’re going to get half of what’s in the bag and it was a piece of cake.”
“You don’t do that,” Teddy said. “We got rules.”
The car was drifting over the center line now, heading for an approaching SUV.
Celeste said, “We got rules on the highway, too—you keep your car in the lane, don’t run into somebody head-on like you’re about to do.”
Teddy looked up, swerved right, went too far, and overcorrected, the Z28 sliding off-road on gravel. Celeste thinking they were going into the ditch, but Teddy surprised her, got it under control, and they were back on the highway, cruising like nothing happened. He’d said he was a racecar driver—and maybe he was.
“Don’t say nothing,” Teddy said. “Don’t say a fucking word.”
They rode in silence, Celeste staring straight down the road listening to the Truckers doing “Hell No, I Ain’t Happy”:
There’s a lot of bad wood underneath the veneer
She’s an overnight sensation after twenty-five years
Teddy trying to sing along, getting a word right here and there like he knew it—in a voice that didn’t understand tone or style.
After a time, Celeste said, “Want me to drive, let you enjoy your buzz?”
Teddy looked over and grinned. “Tell me why I shouldn’t haul off and pop you?”
“ ’Cause if you do, I’ll leave you.” She pulled the Ruger out and aimed it at him. “Or maybe I’ll shoot you.”
“Go ahead,” Teddy said. He looked at her with a lunatic grin and started turning the wheel back and forth, the Z28 doing slalom turns in the lane, going wider, tires making contact with gravel.
Celeste said, “What’re you doing?”
“What’re you doing?” Teddy said.
“Fucking with you,” Celeste said.
“Me too,” Teddy said.
Celeste put the gun back in her shoulder bag.
Teddy stopped turning the wheel, put the car back on course.
He had the hair-trigger temper of an adolescent, like somebody put him to sleep when he was fourteen and woke him up yesterday. Give him shit, he’d give it back to you harder.
“Before I get any more pissed off,” Teddy said, “tell me how much you got?”
Celeste took the money out of the plastic bag, a pile of bills in her lap and started counting. When she was finished, she looked at Teddy and said, “Guess.”
“It’s never easy with you, is
“I was standing behind him. Gripped the Cold Duck bottle with two hands, swung it like a baseball bat, hit him on the side of his head, and believe me I got all of it. Would’ve been an off-the-wall double. The bottle exploded and he went down, crashing to the floor and didn’t move. The skinny geek manager behind the counter whose name was Jerry asked if I could find everything okay? And was there anything else I needed.”
Teddy drank some beer and played air guitar to “Lookout Mountain” by the Drive-By Truckers, looking over at her occasionally, grinning.
“I said, ‘Jer-Bear, I need two packs of Marlboro Lights, some Juicy Fruit, a couple of Nestlé’s Crunches, a twelve of MGD and a bottle of Cold Duck.’ And while he was getting everything together, I thought, what the hell. He put it all on the counter, looked up at me and I said, ‘There is one more thing—I’ll take your money, too, all of it, including the big bills under the tray.’ I had the.38 Ruger pointed at him. He cleaned out the register and asked me if I wanted a bag. ‘No, dumbshit,’ I said, ‘I’m going to walk out of here, let everyone see the moneyI just robbed.’ Know what he said then? ‘Paper or plastic?’ You believe it?”
Teddy’s eyes were glued to her now. “What kind of dumbfuck stunt was that? You don’t go in, rob a place by yourself—you don’t know who’s in the back watching you on a video monitor, come out with a shotgun.”
“It just happened. Police would’ve come one way or the other. I figured I’d take advantage of the situation. What’s the problem? You’re going to get half of what’s in the bag and it was a piece of cake.”
“You don’t do that,” Teddy said. “We got rules.”
The car was drifting over the center line now, heading for an approaching SUV.
Celeste said, “We got rules on the highway, too—you keep your car in the lane, don’t run into somebody head-on like you’re about to do.”
Teddy looked up, swerved right, went too far, and overcorrected, the Z28 sliding off-road on gravel. Celeste thinking they were going into the ditch, but Teddy surprised her, got it under control, and they were back on the highway, cruising like nothing happened. He’d said he was a racecar driver—and maybe he was.
“Don’t say nothing,” Teddy said. “Don’t say a fucking word.”
They rode in silence, Celeste staring straight down the road listening to the Truckers doing “Hell No, I Ain’t Happy”:
There’s a lot of bad wood underneath the veneer
She’s an overnight sensation after twenty-five years
Teddy trying to sing along, getting a word right here and there like he knew it—in a voice that didn’t understand tone or style.
After a time, Celeste said, “Want me to drive, let you enjoy your buzz?”
Teddy looked over and grinned. “Tell me why I shouldn’t haul off and pop you?”
“ ’Cause if you do, I’ll leave you.” She pulled the Ruger out and aimed it at him. “Or maybe I’ll shoot you.”
“Go ahead,” Teddy said. He looked at her with a lunatic grin and started turning the wheel back and forth, the Z28 doing slalom turns in the lane, going wider, tires making contact with gravel.
Celeste said, “What’re you doing?”
“What’re you doing?” Teddy said.
“Fucking with you,” Celeste said.
“Me too,” Teddy said.
Celeste put the gun back in her shoulder bag.
Teddy stopped turning the wheel, put the car back on course.
He had the hair-trigger temper of an adolescent, like somebody put him to sleep when he was fourteen and woke him up yesterday. Give him shit, he’d give it back to you harder.
“Before I get any more pissed off,” Teddy said, “tell me how much you got?”
Celeste took the money out of the plastic bag, a pile of bills in her lap and started counting. When she was finished, she looked at Teddy and said, “Guess.”
“It’s never easy with you, is
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