welcome.”
Fannie nodded. She reached for her pack of cigarettes and pulled out a skinny brown cigarillo. She lit it with her Dunhill lighter and waved away the smoke that clouded the space between her and Junior.
“We just never heard back, is all,” said the boy. “And some folks thought I might just stop by and say hello. You know, see if there was anything at all you needed.”
“What’s your name?” Fannie said.
“Bentley Vandeven.”
“Of course it is,” Fannie said, leaning back in her office chair. The office had been scraped clean of every inch of Johnny Stagg, painted a smooth beige, nothing hung on the walls. New light fixtures and a glass-topped desk. “And you came all the way to Jericho just to say hello?”
“Well, ma’am,” Bentley said. “Some folks have just gotten a little worried. They’re wondering if you don’t want our company.”
“Speak English, Bentley.”
“Folks wanted me to make sure you wanted to continue the same arrangement as Mr. Stagg’s,” he said. “People look to this county as an important little sliver of Mississippi, being so close to Memphis and all. They think on it as true Mississippi hospitality.”
“Because of the free pussy?” Fannie said.
“Ma’am?”
“Because of the free pussy afforded to all those assholes from the capitol.”
Bentley’s young, smooth face colored a bit. She blew out some moresmoke from the side of her mouth and adjusted the cuffs on her red silk top. She cocked her head and studied Bentley a bit more, waiting for him to shift a little in his chair. If those important men had any sense at all, they would have sent someone more substantial.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“You don’t know if your folks in Jackson want more pussy?”
“They just wanted to make sure you were our friend,” he said. “You know who has a big spread of land here?”
“I do.”
“And you know what a good friend he’s been to Mr. Stagg.”
“Couldn’t keep him out of the federal pen in Montgomery, Alabama.”
“That was Mr. Stagg’s own doings,” Bentley said, grinning. “But for a long while he was given a lot of friendship, lots of protection.”
Fannie nodded. “Well, I don’t need any of that shit.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, I don’t need any more friends, Bentley,” she said. “I don’t need protection and I’m not interested in kickbacks from chicken shit road-and-bridge projects if it means sucking up to a bunch of big fat assholes from Jackson. You may have not noticed, but I am not Johnny Stagg in any shape or form. And if your people down there want to do business with me, they need to come themselves, not send some jack-off kid from Jackson Prep.”
“How’d you know I went to Jackson Prep?”
“Bentley,” Fannie said. “Go back into the Rebel and have a meal on me. The chicken-fried steak is very good, but our barbecue is better. Enjoy yourself up here and then go back to Jackson and tell the boys to leave me the hell alone.”
Bentley shook his head. His face dropped. And, from where she sat,Fannie noticed his khakis were wrinkled and his loafers scuffed like a kid who’d always had money and didn’t give a damn to appreciate it. Fannie ashed her cigarette in a little gold tray set neatly on the side of the desk.
“I’ll pass on the message,” Bentley said, trying to look cocky as he stood and shook his head. He brushed the longish hair from his eyes. “But they’re not going to like it. And they’ll probably send someone not as nice as me to tell you how things are going to work.”
Fannie smashed out the last bit of her cigarette and reached down for her Prada bag, reaching deep inside and finding the familiar handle. She smiled and waited, taking a long, slow breath.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Miss Hathcock,” he said. “I bet you were a real knockout when you were young. But you can’t set up the kind of business you’re doing without some friends. I’d be real
Fannie nodded. She reached for her pack of cigarettes and pulled out a skinny brown cigarillo. She lit it with her Dunhill lighter and waved away the smoke that clouded the space between her and Junior.
“We just never heard back, is all,” said the boy. “And some folks thought I might just stop by and say hello. You know, see if there was anything at all you needed.”
“What’s your name?” Fannie said.
“Bentley Vandeven.”
“Of course it is,” Fannie said, leaning back in her office chair. The office had been scraped clean of every inch of Johnny Stagg, painted a smooth beige, nothing hung on the walls. New light fixtures and a glass-topped desk. “And you came all the way to Jericho just to say hello?”
“Well, ma’am,” Bentley said. “Some folks have just gotten a little worried. They’re wondering if you don’t want our company.”
“Speak English, Bentley.”
“Folks wanted me to make sure you wanted to continue the same arrangement as Mr. Stagg’s,” he said. “People look to this county as an important little sliver of Mississippi, being so close to Memphis and all. They think on it as true Mississippi hospitality.”
“Because of the free pussy?” Fannie said.
“Ma’am?”
“Because of the free pussy afforded to all those assholes from the capitol.”
Bentley’s young, smooth face colored a bit. She blew out some moresmoke from the side of her mouth and adjusted the cuffs on her red silk top. She cocked her head and studied Bentley a bit more, waiting for him to shift a little in his chair. If those important men had any sense at all, they would have sent someone more substantial.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“You don’t know if your folks in Jackson want more pussy?”
“They just wanted to make sure you were our friend,” he said. “You know who has a big spread of land here?”
“I do.”
“And you know what a good friend he’s been to Mr. Stagg.”
“Couldn’t keep him out of the federal pen in Montgomery, Alabama.”
“That was Mr. Stagg’s own doings,” Bentley said, grinning. “But for a long while he was given a lot of friendship, lots of protection.”
Fannie nodded. “Well, I don’t need any of that shit.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, I don’t need any more friends, Bentley,” she said. “I don’t need protection and I’m not interested in kickbacks from chicken shit road-and-bridge projects if it means sucking up to a bunch of big fat assholes from Jackson. You may have not noticed, but I am not Johnny Stagg in any shape or form. And if your people down there want to do business with me, they need to come themselves, not send some jack-off kid from Jackson Prep.”
“How’d you know I went to Jackson Prep?”
“Bentley,” Fannie said. “Go back into the Rebel and have a meal on me. The chicken-fried steak is very good, but our barbecue is better. Enjoy yourself up here and then go back to Jackson and tell the boys to leave me the hell alone.”
Bentley shook his head. His face dropped. And, from where she sat,Fannie noticed his khakis were wrinkled and his loafers scuffed like a kid who’d always had money and didn’t give a damn to appreciate it. Fannie ashed her cigarette in a little gold tray set neatly on the side of the desk.
“I’ll pass on the message,” Bentley said, trying to look cocky as he stood and shook his head. He brushed the longish hair from his eyes. “But they’re not going to like it. And they’ll probably send someone not as nice as me to tell you how things are going to work.”
Fannie smashed out the last bit of her cigarette and reached down for her Prada bag, reaching deep inside and finding the familiar handle. She smiled and waited, taking a long, slow breath.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Miss Hathcock,” he said. “I bet you were a real knockout when you were young. But you can’t set up the kind of business you’re doing without some friends. I’d be real
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