“No. My first thought was to find out where one of them lives and scoop up one of their old ladies,” Ike said.
“Goddamn, son. They must clank when you walk,” Buddy Lee said.
“What?”
“Your brass balls. But I gotta admit, I like it. They wouldn’t be expecting it,” Buddy Lee said.
“Yeah. But now we know who the real head of the snake is, I’m thinking we need somebody closer to the throne,” Ike said. He took his eyes off the road and stared at Buddy Lee for what seemed like a full minute.
“Oh. I see where you going with this, but I’ll tell you what, I don’t think Gerald cares all that much about Christine. He can’t if he was doing what he was doing with Tangy,” Buddy Lee said.
“That how you really feel or are you getting soft on me?” Ike asked.
“If we telling the truth and shaming the devil, I still am sweet on her in a way. But the only thing Gerald Culpepper loves is power and…” Buddy Lee said. He stopped and put his finger to his lips.
“And what? I ain’t telepathic,” Ike said.
“One time Derek told me the only bad thing he ever heard his mama say about Gerald was that he could be a daddy’s boy,” Buddy Lee said.
“He loves power but he loves his daddy more,” Ike said.
“Yessir. Derek told me how Gerald and his daddy was as thick as thieves and tight as a pair of pantyhose. Gatsby Culpepper is an asshole just like his son. Derek told me Gatsby wouldn’t let him call him Granddaddy. Talking about how Derek wasn’t a true Culpepper so he didn’t get that honor,” Buddy Lee said.
“You know, you told me you and Derek didn’t get along, but it sure seem like y’all did a lot of talking,” Ike said. Buddy Lee grunted.
“That was only when he was mad at his mama. You know how that is. I ate that shit up, but then he would try to tell me about Isiah and, well, I wasn’t too receptive to that,” Buddy Lee said.
“Yeah. I didn’t, uh … I didn’t listen to Isiah when he would talk about how happy he was with Derek. I mean, I didn’t wanna listen,” Ike said.
“Maybe we can be better grandfathers than we was fathers,” Buddy Lee said.
“You know where this Gatsby lives? They haven’t called yet, but when they do we won’t have much time to make a move,” Ike said.
“Can we google it?” Buddy Lee asked.
“Probably. You can google anything these days.”
“That’s what they tell me,” Buddy Lee said. They drove on in silence for a mile or two.
“Did you really drive your truck through his house?” Ike said.
“Yeah, but I fucked up and took a left at the sink,” Buddy Lee said. Ike and Buddy Lee stared at each other at the same time.
Buddy Lee started laughing.
Ike just shook his head.
* * *
Ike was right.
When they got back to Buddy Lee’s trailer, Ike pulled up Gatsby Culpepper’s address on a free Google search. The site he used advised him that for $29.99 he could get Gatsby’s criminal record, too.
“This says he lives just outside of Richmond in Charles City County,” Ike said. He checked his watch.
“It’s almost eleven. I say we go now.”
Buddy Lee leaned his chair back on two legs before letting it rest on all four again. He rubbed his face with his left hand. The wound on his right hand was pulsating under its bandage. He took a sip from a mason jar that had a nebulous form floating near the bottom. Once upon a time it had been a half of a peach. He’d found the jar in his closet hidden behind his winter clothes. Like a squirrel and his nuts, Buddy Lee sometimes forgot where he kept his emergency rations.
“Last I heard he was living alone. I don’t know if he has a dog. I don’t know what kind of security system he might have or how many guns he might be packing. I kinda feel like we should at least do a dry run and see what he working with,” Buddy Lee said. He handed Ike the jar. Ike took a sip and handed it back to Buddy Lee. Buddy Lee took it, tipped the mason jar up, and savored the burn of the corn liquor in his chest.
“I don’t care what he’s got. I don’t care who lives with him. I don’t care about his dog. We going in there and we taking him out. Anybody or anything try and stop us, we taking them out, too,” Ike said.
“Duly noted, but I’ve been ruminating on something,” Buddy Lee said.
“What’s that?”
“My daddy used to say, ‘Work smarter, not harder,’” Buddy Lee said. Ike put his phone in his pocket and crossed his arms.