For some reason it seemed to stink of a thousand meals tonight, of backed-up toilets and spilled beer and TV dinners and pizza kept in the refrigerator too long. God. How had all this happened? How did he end up in a house he didn't love with-"Well,” she said.
“About time.”
“All right, Jen,” he said.
“So where is he?”
“He's with his friends. I got him out in time to play and drove him over. That coach said officially his suspension didn't start till tomorrow so the old geezer let him play. Git himself in a lot of trouble, you ask me. Anyway, Jeff did fine, a double and a single, made a nice running catch late in the game.”
“It went into extra innings?”
“No, no, it didn't.”
“He's with his friends. Bud, where were you?”
“Oh, I had some business.”
“What business? Bud, what's going on?” Her face was grave and her eyes locked onto him. He could not meet their power.
“Ah—” It hung in the air.
Finally he said, "Look, I understand I haven't been the best of husbands lately, Jen. I just had my head somewhere else. Okay. I've told you some lies, I've done some things I shouldn't have done. But, Jen, I want to tell you now, flat out, straight to your face, that's all over now. Now I am going to be father to my boys and husband to my wife. I want us to have our old life back, the one we loved for all those years. ""Bud "What?”
“Bud, I won't ask you for details.”
“I'm glad.""I've heard things and I don't want to know if they're true or not. I just want you to tell me whatever it was, it's all over now.
You have a good life. Bud, fine, strong, brave sons. No man could have better sons.”
“I know that.”
“I know I'm not so young as I once was. I can't help that. Like you I got old, and like you I got fat. I just got fatter.”
“It's not that.”
“Oh, who knows what it is, Bud. I do know that I can forgive you maybe once. But, Bud, don't you ever do anything like this again. If you want to be with her, just go and be with her. But no more of this running around.”
“I will make it up. I'll make it so you won't notice there was a bad time. It was all good times, you, me, the boys.”
“Okay, Bud. Then I don't want to hear of it again. We close the book and we lock it and I don't want to hear about it again. Is that clear?”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now I think we should go to bed. I think you should show me that you love me still. In the physical way, I mean. It's been nearly a year, are you aware?”
“I didn't know.”
“It's been a long, long time, Bud, and I have needs, too, though you don't like to face it.”
“Well, then let's go.”
They headed upstairs.
The phone pulled Bud from a blank and dreamless sleep, and he awoke in the dark of his bedroom, his wife breathing heavily beside him. All through the house it was quiet.
Groggily, he picked it up.
“Pewtie.”
“Well, howdy there. Bud” came a voice from far, far away. It swam at Bud from lost memories, out of a pool of still green water. He fought to recall it but its identity lingered beyond his consciousness.
“Who is this?”
“Oh, you know who it is. Bud. It's your old goddamned buddy Lamar Pye.”
Bud's head cleared, fast.
“Pye. What the hell are you—”
“Missing anything?”
“What?”
“Missing anything?”
Bud thought: My boys.
“Lamar, so help me Christ—”
“Sure must be lonely in that bed tonight.”
Bud looked: He could see Jen stirring under her blankets.
“I don't—”
“I hope you didn't call nobody yet, there. Bud.”
“I—”
“She's damned pretty, your old lady. A bit young for a old goat like you. Bet she gits you to working hard.”
“Lamar, what the—”
“Here, say something to your baby. Bring her over, sweetie.”
A faraway voice said, "Git over here, you bitch,” and in the next second, another voice came on the line.
“Oh, Bud, oh God, they came in and got me, oh. Bud, I am so scared, Bud they've all got guns and he hit me, he hit me—” and then Holly was taken away.
“Who is it, Bud?” said Jen groggily.
“You hear that, trooper? We got your wife. Yes sir, got your goddamned wife. You take my baby cousin, and shoot him full of holes, I'm going to take your lady, for my pleasures.
Let me tell you how it's going to be, okay? You call anyone, you tell anyone, you mention this to anyone, by God, I will kill her and you know I will. First though I'll fuck her in every hole she got. Every one.”
“I swear—”
“Now, Bud, if you want this pretty gal back, you'd best come and do what I tell you. I want you to go to a pay phone. You got about a hour. It's at 124 and Shoulder Junction, outside of Geronimo.
Exxon station. I'm going to bounce you from pay phone to pay phone before I bring you in, just to make goddamned sure you don't have no SWAT boys with you. Got that?”
“Lamar—”
“You miss that goddamned call and I'll cut her throat and cut her nose off. Bud, and then come git you and the rest of your family at my leisure.”
“Don't hurt her, goddamn it,” Bud barked.
“Oh, and Bud?” Lamar asked in a voice rich in charm.
“You want her back? Tell you what. Bring some guns.”
He hung up.
Bud jumped out of bed, fought to clear his head. But, really, there was no decision to make, not one he could face anyway. If he called headquarters, he could play the game and sooner or later close with Lamar with a SWAT team, choppers, snipers, the works; the professionals would handle it as well as they could, but it wouldn't matter. One look at other boys at his private party with Bud and Lamar would cut her up without so much as a by-your-leave and take his goddamned chances with the lawmen. He didn't give a damn; he didn't fear his own death, he only wanted Bud's.
Bud pulled on jeans, boots, and a black shirt. He grabbed a sports coat, only to cover the guns he'd be wearing.
“Bud, what is going on?”
“I have to go.”
“Bud, you—” He faced his wife.
“I'm sorry. I have to go one last time. If you love me, you let me go. You trust me, you let me go.”
Then he raced downstairs, opened the gun safe. There they were. He pulled on his shoulder rig and the high hip holster and then busily threaded rounds into the magazines, all of them, jamming them up with hollow tips If his thumbs hurt, he didn't notice; it just seemed to take so goddamned long. He holstered the Beretta and the .45; the380 went behind his belt on his belly. Then he looked for a rifle, knowing only a fool fights with a pistol if he has the choice, but came up short until he remembered that .3030 lever gun outside, still under the seat in his truck. He closed the safe.
A shape loomed in the dark.
“Dad?”
It was Jeff.
“Jeff, I've got to go, fast.”
“Dad, what's—”
“Never you mind.”
“Dad—”
“Jeff, I love you. No matter what you hear or what they tell you or what happens, I love you. I love your mother and your brother more than anything. Now I have something to handle and I have to handle it. You stay here and take care of your mother. It'll be fine, I swear to you.”
“Dad—”
“Jeff, I have to go!”
“Dad… I love you.”
Bud grabbed his youngest son and gave him a bone squeezing hug. He felt the boy's ribs and beating heart under that sheathing of muscle.