“You motherfucker. You guilted me into doing this, you piece of shit,” Ike said.
“I know. It’s all my fault. But we’re in it now,” Buddy Lee said.
“For a minute I thought you wasn’t so bad. I trusted you. But it’s just like I said: you wanted the scary-ass Black dude to do all the hard work for you,” Ike said.
“I wanted the only man in the world who knew what I was going through to help me make it right,” Buddy Lee said, rubbing his neck.
“Guess neither one of us is a good judge of character,” Ike said. He headed for the door.
“Ike—”
“Don’t say a goddamn thing. Not one word. I need to go and see if my wife made it out of surgery. If she did, I have to figure out how to tell her her grandbaby is gone. Then I gotta figure out how to get that baby back without turning over Tangerine. I gotta do all this by myself because your ass went and cracked our son’s tombstone, you stupid fucker,” Ike said.
Buddy Lee watched as Ike stalked out of his room.
Buddy Lee coughed. The act caused his ears to pop. He’d been alone before—that was nothing new. Nights spent out in his car or truck after tying one on so hard he knew he couldn’t drive. Days after being released from the graybar hotel, hitching his way back home because he had no one waiting for him on the other side. Long evenings sitting in his trailer staring at flickering electric shadows on the idiot box as he swallowed beer after beer trying to forget the tender kisses of his first love or the laughter of his only son. Buddy Lee closed his eyes.
This felt different. This felt permanent.
* * *
It was an hour later when his phone rang. Not his cell phone but the phone in the room. Buddy Lee stretched his arm over the railing and grabbed the handset.
“Hello?”
“Buddy,” Christine said.
“What do you want?” Buddy Lee asked.
“I was calling to check on you. I saw the news,” Christine said.
“Red Hill made the news? That’s a first,” Buddy Lee said.
“It’s not every day kidnappers take a little girl and burn down her grandparents’ house. Are you okay?” Christine said.
“We’re her grandparents, too, Christine,” Buddy Lee snapped.
“I know that, okay? This is all so much after what happened to Derek. I don’t want anything to happen to her. I don’t want anything to happen to anyone,” Christine said. Her sadness was palatable. It made Buddy Lee wince.
“Hey, look, I’m sorry. Like you said, this is a lot,” Buddy Lee said.
“Do you think this has anything to do with what you told me the other day?” Christine asked. Buddy Lee didn’t answer.
“Okay. I’m going to ask you again: How are you?” Christine said.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Care about me. It’s easier when we hate each other,” Buddy Lee said.
“I never hated you, Buddy Lee. You got on every one of my nerves, but I never hated you,” Christine said.
“Gerald don’t mind you yapping with your ex-husband? Or is he listening in on the line?” Buddy Lee said.
“Ha. Gerald Winthrop Culpepper doesn’t have time to stalk my calls. He’s too busy working on his campaign,” Christine said.
Buddy Lee sat straight up in his bed. A nurse came in the room but he waved her away.
“Say what now?” Buddy Lee asked.
“Gerald is gearing up to run for governor. I told you that the other day. His daddy been pushing for this since he lost his own bid for the governor’s mansion.”
“No, not that part. Say his name again. His whole name,” Buddy Lee said.
“What? Why?”
“Just do it.”
“Gerald Winthrop Culpepper. He was named after his great-grandfather. Are you okay?” Christine asked.
“I’m fine,” Buddy Lee said. Pieces were falling into place in his head like a giant game of Tetris. It all made sense now. Why Derek was so pissed about Tangerine’s boyfriend. What had he called him? A hypocrite and an asshole. Christine had said Derek had called her before he got killed. She had ignored it, but Derek wasn’t the type to take no for an answer. He probably went over there to see her. Ran into Gerald. Told him about himself.
“Motherfucker,” Buddy Lee said.
“What did you call me?” Christine asked.
Buddy Lee knew why Tangerine had him saved in her phone under “W.” Now it made sense how they met. Gerald Culpepper and Christine were always in the paper at this or that high-society get-together. When Tangerine had mumbled “We can’t win,” she wasn’t saying they couldn’t make it. She was saying “Wynn.”