“What the fuck happened to you, man?” Too Much asked. Oscar put his huge paw of a hand on his forehead.
“You ain’t gonna fucking believe it,” he said.
* * *
Once Oscar had recounted the entire evening, Dome called Grayson. The president answered on the second ring.
“This better be important,” Grayson said.
“It is. Oscar’s back.”
“And?” Grayson said.
“And Andy’s not with him. Oscar’s head is busted wide the fuck open and he’s covered in blood. His own blood,” Dome said.
A hollow silence bloomed on the phone line until Grayson spoke again.
“Did he see who hit him?” Grayson said. His voice was deathly quiet.
“He didn’t, but he says he and Andy got into it with an old dude that was in the house when they got there. He thinks the old dude was the father of one of the punks. He also said he saw a truck parked near the house. Truck said Randolph Lawn Maintenance on the side,” Dome said.
“Randolph, huh?” Grayson asked.
“Yeah,” Dome said. Another few seconds of silence.
“I’ll be over there in twenty minutes. Call a church meeting. We gonna take care of business and deal with Father Knows Best,” Grayson said.
The line went dead.
SIXTEEN
Buddy Lee parked his truck right in front of the 7-Eleven. He cut off the ignition and listened to the engine dieseling for a few minutes. Once the motor stopped coughing and sputtering, he got out and went into the store. The sun had just risen. A ragged patchwork of clouds hung low in the eastern sky like cotton candy.
A robotic chime sounded as he walked through the door. Buddy Lee slipped down the center aisle and made a beeline for the cooler in the back. He plucked two tallboys from the rack and headed for the counter. He had considered just going cold turkey until they were done with whatever the hell they were calling this mission they were on, but that was just ridiculous. He hadn’t done that since the last time he was in the joint. He couldn’t go down that road again. That route led to shakes and vomiting and bugs in his hair that no one else could see. He could cut back, but stopping altogether was as likely as seeing a monkey driving a goddamn Cadillac.
Buddy Lee put the two cans of beer on the counter and waited for the clerk to turn around. The small brown man was stocking the cigarettes while whistling a tune that teased Buddy Lee with its familiarity. When the man finally emptied the carton he was working on he turned and scanned Buddy Lee’s beer.
“Buddy Lee. How are you, my friend? You look a bit unrested.”
“Well, good fucking morning to you, too, Hamad,” Buddy Lee said.
“I mean no harm, Buddy Lee. I am worried about you, my friend. You look like you have not slept a wink,” Hamad said.
“You don’t know the half of it, son,” Buddy Lee said.
After he had stabbed the kid and Ike had caved his head in like an overripe melon, they had stripped him naked and fired up Ike’s wood chipper. Ike had positioned the discharge chute directly onto the manure pile in the back lot of his warehouse. They used handsaws and machetes to break the kid down into manageable pieces. Once it was all done they pressure-washed the floor and the wood chipper. Buddy Lee had plopped down on the lime pallet and watched Ike mix up the manure pile with his economy-sized front-end loader. By the time they were done, it was two hours before sunrise. He supposed he should be shocked how fast his disposal skills resurfaced, but it was not really that much of a surprise. Chopping up your first body is disgusting. Your second is tiresome. When you’re doing your fifteenth, it’s all muscle memory.
“I know it is hard,” Hamad said.
“Huh?”
“After the passing of your son. I know things are hard,” Hamad said.
“Yeah, I haven’t slept much since Derek … died,” Buddy Lee said. He’d never get used to the way the words “Derek” and “died” felt in his mouth.
“Everything seems hard when one you love dies,” Hamad said as he placed the beer in a brown paper bag.
“Mm-hmm,” Buddy Lee said. He handed Hamad a ten-spot.
“You will get through this, Buddy Lee,” Hamad said.
“I don’t know if I want to get through it, Hamad. I feel like every minute I’m not grieving I’m letting my boy down,” Buddy Lee said.
Hamad handed Buddy Lee his change.
“He wouldn’t want you to grieve forever, my friend,” Hamad said. A man and a woman came into the store laughing in that way that told Buddy Lee they were a couple, and a new one at that. Buddy Lee grabbed his bag.