He turned and went to the pickup. Before him, the Glouck house sat quiet, but smoke slowly rose from the kitchen. Sturm said, under his breath, “Crazy goddamn old bitch,” and Girdler laughed. Theo slowly pulled away in the crackling heat and Frank blinked the sweat out of his eyes.
* * * * *
A big flashy Cadillac Escalade was parked in front of Sturm’s house.
“Okay. We got customers. Look sharp.”
The three new hunters waited out on the back deck, marveling at the giant cross in the corner of the yard. Frank could tell right off that none of these three ever did anything without the other two behind him. He just knew these fuckers were executives somewhere, late twenties to early thirties. They probably worked together, played fucking golf, got their haircuts from the same barber, same goddamn fraternity. Frank suspected they didn’t do much of anything at their work, neither making decisions or lifting something heavy. This would be one of their hunting trips, their version of an adventure.
They gave their names, but Frank immediately forgot and just named them Asshole #1, #2, and #3. He shook all their hands, smiled his smile, and immediately went out back to the lioness cage. He wanted to stop by Jack’s truck for his bottle, but decided he needed to see the cats first. He went quickly through the deepening shadows and curled his fingers into the cage at the back of the barn.
The tranquilizers had worn off hours ago, and Sturm’s girls were irritable and hungry. Lady was busy tearing ragged strips of hard black rubber out of the tires while Princess hulked in a corner, motionless except for her tail, which slapped at the flies. She hissed when she saw Frank, deep, vicious, and pissed.
“I know girl. I know. You’ll eat soon.” Frank’s voice, smooth as fresh motor oil, was low enough that only the cats heard him. “You’ll eat soon. Don’t know exactly what you’re gonna eat, but I know you’re gonna eat soon. That’s right, little girl. One, two hours, tops. You’ll see. You’ll eat.”
Princess lowered her head, staring hard at Frank. Lady stopped shredding the tires and watched Princess, only occasionally glancing at Frank.
“You’ll eat soon. I promise.”
* * * * *
Lights burst on the corral, bleaching the color out of the dirt, the fence, the sky, leaving everything cold and bloodless. The cats each slid to the back corners of the cage, backs low, shoulders against the concrete foundations, as the light found them and sucked the color out of their eyes.
Theo ran up and jumped on the first bar of the cage, both hands wrapped around a video camera the size of a pack of cigarettes, glued to the lioness to Frank’s right. Sturm came out of the dark and asked, “Which one?”
Frank wasn’t sure if Sturm was talking to him or Theo, and was about to mumble something when Theo said, “Both of ’em.”
“Well then, we’re just gonna have to find out tonight then, won’t we?” He turned to Frank, and before Frank could say anything said, “I know. I know. They gotta eat. And they will. Soon as we do. So come on back to the house. I gotta collect everyone and get ’em on out to the spread in the field.”
* * * * *
A large army tent had been erected out in the pasture. Tiki torches illuminated the two tables set up in the front. One was six feet across; the second was considerably smaller. Glouck brothers in black jeans and white shirts and black bow ties walked stiffly from the tent to the table and back again, carrying and arranging the silverware, plates, candles, baskets of bread, bottles of olive oil, and pitchers of ice water.
Sturm took the seat at the big table and had the hunters join him. He started telling an elaborate joke. Frank sat at the smaller table with Theo and Chuck, clearly the little kids’ table at Thanksgiving. The Gloucks poured water and took drink orders. Frank wasn’t shy about ordering alcohol this time.
Theo stared at Gun with amusement and said low, under his dad’s joke, “That’s a nice tie you got there. Your mother sew it for you?” He called over his shoulder at his dad, interrupting. “Hey Dad! Dad! Am I supposed to tip these boys or what?”
“Well, if they deserve it, then tip ’em. Yes.”
“What if they don’t deserve it?”
“Then don’t tip.” Sturm went back to the joke. “Anyways, so the nun says to the taxicab driver, ‘fuck yes, you stud you. Thanks for the ride. And oh yeah, by the way, I’m really a guy on his way to a costume party.’”
The three assholes laughed, slammed their hands down on the table, tilted their various drinks, and took long gulps. Girdler laughed too, but took slower sips out of a silver curved flask. Frank had finished his glass, and waved for one of the Glouck brothers, said, “Another. Thanks.”
Sturm stood. “Gentlemen. Ladies…?” he peered into the darkness. Someone near the house whistled. Frank saw her on the back deck leaning out against the railing, just a silhouette really, but that was enough to know it was her, more than enough. Sturm’s house didn’t just grow gentle curves like Annie. He wondered what the hell she was doing out here. Maybe she was helping her family out.
Maybe she was here to make some money.
“Tomorrow—for starters, you’re gonna sight in your rifles. For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, we will assist you. This will be your only preparation for the hunts to follow, when your prey will not be so docile.”
Girdler asked, “Absolutely. Then what will we shoot?”
“You all are hereby warned to be on the lookout for this dangerous gentleman here.” Sturm unrolled an 8 1/2 by 11 inch paper. The big monkey sat locked to the chair, wearing western clothing, in a primitive cheap two-tone print. In wooden, western-style letters, the sign said, “WANTED” above the monkey’s hat.
“I direct your attention to this particular detail here,” Sturm pointed to the monkey’s ears. “He’s got brass balls and brass earrings.” He pointed to the bottom of the sign, “ REWARD: $20,000.”
Sturm tossed the rolled up paper down the table. “That’s right. Twenty thousand dollars. That’s one bad monkey there. And he’s loose. Goddamn King Kong. Somewhere in town. So be careful. It’s a dangerous mission. So damn dangerous, I gotta be sure you’re serious. This particular hunt, this ain’t free. But the cost is next to nothing when you think about the twenty-thousand dollar reward on this outlaw’s head.” He stood behind his chair, only his shoulders and head visible. “So who’s up for a little outlaw hunting?”
* * * * *
The main course was brought out. Theo asked Gun, “Hey, you wash your hands before touching this plate?”
Frank did his best to ignore Theo, and just enjoy the food, but as soon as the plate was set in front of him, Theo grabbed it and switched it with his own plate. “There,” he said. “Now you can enjoy their spit. I know they spit in mine, and I ain’t gonna eat that shit.”
The Glouck’s faces betrayed nothing.
Frank switched plates with Chuck, who was still enjoying the effects of the tranquilizers to worry about anything as unimportant as tainted food.
Theo didn’t like it, but instead of pushing it with Frank, he poured his water on the ground and shook the empty glass at Ernie. “Hey. Hey water boy. Gimme some water. Now.”
Ernie picked up the water pitcher on the table and poured more into Theo’s glass without saying a word. For now, his fear of his mothers was overriding his hatred of Theo.
“Shit. You might have a career in this, if you work hard,” Theo said, took a drink, then poured the rest on the ground. “Now gimme some more.”
Gun stiffly poured ice water into Theo’s glass, like a robot whose joints had nearly rusted shut.
Frank did his best to ignore Theo; his mind wanted Annie. The curved shadows from the back deck were gone and the back yard was empty. He thought about excusing himself to go check on the lionesses, really just to look around and try and find her, but didn’t want Sturm to see him leaving the table.