Ravens. Part 19

"Please," said Claude.

"Oh my G.o.d. Claude. Wait for the morphine. It'll work in a minute."

"Can't you give me all all the morphine? Give me the whole bag." the morphine? Give me the whole bag."

"It's on a pump, Claude. You can't get it all at once."

"Help me."

The look on the old man's face - all selfishness and weakness - was crus.h.i.+ng to Romeo. That this pillar of strength should be crumbling right before his eyes.

"Claude. I can't do that for you."

"Just. For practice."

"Try to understand, Claude."

"To get. In shape. For the real thing."

"I can't! You don't get it. I gotta get worked up for this s.h.i.+t!"

"Please," said the old man. He was begging. How could he be so weak? Romeo wondered. How could he have fallen so low?

"I'll see."

"Please," said Claude.

"I'll see. Later. But I gotta go now."

Romeo arose from the bed and walked out. He shut the door behind him. He got into the Tercel and drove. He didn't know where he was going. Without thinking he started making a circuit.

No. I don't want to make a f.u.c.king circuit.

This time, when he came to the turn for the St. Simon's causeway, he took it. He crossed the marshes and came to the island, which he found to be well-manicured but dull. Retirement condos, offices for osteopaths, phony-looking palm trees. But he followed a sign to the village, and found an old and kind of sweetly run-down settlement, a last gasp of character and grace. Murphy's Bar was easy to spot. So many folks were milling outside the Jackpot Party.

He pulled over on a side street. Under a spreading oak. From this vantage he had a clear view of the bar, the partygoers flowing in and out.

This misery he was feeling, couldn't he use it somehow? Work it up into some kind of rage? That was the key, a little rage.

Then he noticed someone coming out of another door, a back door.

It was Shaw. Trying to slip away without being spotted by the crowd. Hovering near the dumpster, waiting for someone. He didn't see Romeo parked in the shadows down the street.

Then Clio drove up in her Miata. Shaw got in, and they drove away. Romeo's heart went slamming around in his chest.

Clio. She's mine. That was Clio Clio.

She's all I care about in this f.u.c.king town. He knows knows that. He must. Doesn't he give a s.h.i.+t? It doesn't even matter to him? My best f.u.c.king friend! that. He must. Doesn't he give a s.h.i.+t? It doesn't even matter to him? My best f.u.c.king friend!

He followed the Miata. Allowed it a generous lead, and kept his headlights off, and pursued the car down a few back streets and then a little unpaved lane that led to the ocean.

The Miata stopped. Romeo stopped.

He got out quietly - carefully clicking the door shut - and went back to the Tercel's trunk, and took the cavalry saber from its nest. He started toward the Miata. Oak branches were twined above his head. His footfalls were deadened by the sand. My best friend, he thought, my best f.u.c.king friend. He could see that the Miata's windows were open. He heard pa.s.sionate breathing. In the dark, he could just make out the lovers' silhouettes.

But he noticed, as he approached, that his rage was quickly fading. Was, in fact, gone. Now he didn't know what he felt. There was the pain of Shaw's betrayal, but this was indistinct against his general background pain. What he was mostly aware of was loneliness. And the thought occurred to him that at least Shaw was happy now.

Shaw's fingers roamed from Clio's breast to her thigh, then made a shrewd horseshoe turn and came gliding back up toward her p.u.s.s.y. She made a halfhearted attempt to stop him, clamping her thighs together, but didn't stop kissing him. And he retreated for only a moment and then was back right away - his fingers circling their quarry closer and closer, and he knew she wouldn't hold out long. fingers roamed from Clio's breast to her thigh, then made a shrewd horseshoe turn and came gliding back up toward her p.u.s.s.y. She made a halfhearted attempt to stop him, clamping her thighs together, but didn't stop kissing him. And he retreated for only a moment and then was back right away - his fingers circling their quarry closer and closer, and he knew she wouldn't hold out long.

"Jesus," she breathed. "You just swoop down, don't you?"

She was here to be taken, wasn't she?

Soon he was pressing into her through her panties which were already soaked; his fingers pleading, insisting, till she sighed and relaxed a little and then he moved quickly, slipping under the elastic and into her, one finger, another, cupping her pubic bone against his palm. Her breath coming ragged, her musk, the smell of the sea, a mockingbird overhead. And the other girl in the bar, the one with the brightly burnished midriff - she'd be available for him later, wouldn't she? And finally: Tara. Tara would be sleeping in the next room tonight, and every hour would bring her closer to him. He grinned. He had three fingers inside this one, and when her breath seized up he thought she was coming and he increased the pressure. Then she screamed.

She was pus.h.i.+ng him away and staring at something.

He wrenched himself around to see. Someone was there. A figure, a man. Retreating. Carrying some kind of a long knife that glinted in the thin moonlight. Shaw was scrabbling at the car door, searching for the handle, and he found it and got the door open and barrel-rolled out, propelling himself into the dark.

But the man was getting into a car. Headlights, and the car backing away violently, vanis.h.i.+ng.

Shaw turned back to Clio.

She was sobbing. "He had a f.u.c.king knife! He was watching us! Who was it? Who the f.u.c.k! Was it?" Was it?"

Shaw didn't say a word.

Romeo parked where he had a clear view up Mallery Street to Murphy's Bar. He waited, and soon enough Clio's car appeared - stopping near the back of the bar - and Shaw got out, and the car drove off. parked where he had a clear view up Mallery Street to Murphy's Bar. He waited, and soon enough Clio's car appeared - stopping near the back of the bar - and Shaw got out, and the car drove off.

Shaw snapped open his cell phone and jabbed at it with his finger. The phone in Romeo's hand trembled like a frightened animal. He lifted it to his ear. "Yes."

"Where are you?"

"Turn around," said Romeo, and when Shaw did he flashed his lights.

"Come here," said Shaw. "Now."

Romeo pulled up and Shaw got in and shut the door hard. "Drive."

Romeo eased past the crowd in front of Murphy's.

"Drive! Before someone sees me. Get the f.u.c.k out of here." Before someone sees me. Get the f.u.c.k out of here."

A T-s.h.i.+rt store, then a souvenir shop, then a frilly ice-cream parlor. Shaw said, "You know, I really thought we'd done this thing. I thought we'd made these amazing lives for ourselves. You stupid s.h.i.+t."

Trying to keep a lid on his anger. But his mouth didn't work right. An electrical hiss at the edge of his words. Finally he said, "So what is the matter matter with you!" with you!"

"I don't know," said Romeo.

Shaw demanded: "Tell me! Why the f.u.c.k were you standing there?"

Romeo sniffed. "I don't know."

Again Shaw said, "Why were you standing there?"

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Supposed to be the watcher, right?"

Now Shaw blew up.

"From a distance! You dumb f.u.c.k! You're supposed to be invisible! You're not supposed to be standing there when I've got my hand down some b.i.t.c.h's pants!"

Romeo said, "Is she just some b.i.t.c.h?"

"WHO PUT YOU IN CHARGE OF f.u.c.kING UP OUR LIVES?"

Romeo bore down on the gas at the very moment that a platoon of frat boys, in flattops and green golfing pants, came strolling across the street. They were disinclined to yield till they realized their lives were on the line - then they hotfooted it, shouting obscenities after the car. Romeo hardly saw them.

He drove to the village pier, parked, and walked off. Leaving Shaw with the car. Who needs the f.u.c.king car? He walked along the sea wall, past the miniature golf course and its rinkyd.i.n.k music, past families ambling along in the heat. Everyone was eating - ice cream, chili dogs, cotton candy - and everyone was dull and fat and waxen. He came to a sandbox with two big gray blobs that looked like the swollen corpses of fat kids. When he got closer he realized it was supposed to be a sculpture. A sculpture of swimming whales. G.o.d. Everything was so ugly and wrong here. What was he doing doing here? He needed to keep moving, find an ATM, get a taxi to the bus station and a bus back to Piqua, Ohio. Start right now. here? He needed to keep moving, find an ATM, get a taxi to the bus station and a bus back to Piqua, Ohio. Start right now.

He sat on a low wall beside the whales.

In a minute Shaw came up and sat next to him.

"OK." Shaw's voice was full of remorse. "I think I just got it. You liked liked Clio. Didn't you?" Clio. Didn't you?"

Romeo didn't answer.

"Oh Jesus. I'm sorry. I should have seen that. Why didn't I see that? That was your backyard. You must hate me."

They stared out at the black swells of the Atlantic Ocean.

Shaw said, "I'm just, I mean I've just been so keyed up, I'm not thinking straight. My G.o.d, if you'd seen seen them tonight. The Boatwrights, back at that bar? They're all trying to submit. Even Mitch. He them tonight. The Boatwrights, back at that bar? They're all trying to submit. Even Mitch. He wants wants to submit. He wants it so much. And the wife wants me to f.u.c.k her. And, G.o.d, you went by the house - you see that? See all the people there? The whole to submit. He wants it so much. And the wife wants me to f.u.c.k her. And, G.o.d, you went by the house - you see that? See all the people there? The whole world world wants to submit. You know why, Romeo? Because of you. Because of you being out there in the darkness." wants to submit. You know why, Romeo? Because of you. Because of you being out there in the darkness."

A horn buoy moaned offsh.o.r.e, just as Shaw was saying out there in the darkness. out there in the darkness. The harmony of it took Romeo's breath away. The harmony of it took Romeo's breath away.

Shaw said, "You know what I've been thinking about? About the history of the world, about how this is always the way. Anything good, or original, it's never just someone with a plan. There has to be an enforcer too. Caesar had to have legionnaires. Thomas Jefferson had to have the Continental soldiers freezing their f.u.c.king feet off. Joseph Smith had that great story about the Golden Tablets, but he also had to have the Danites, to skulk around and murder his enemies. That's how the good comes into the world - with a dark escort. Always the light is guarded by darkness. Always. Every great idea has a Romeo patrolling just outside. Every great idea is enforced by great terror. All right? I mean, if you want something else besides the s.h.i.+t they hand you? You want to make room for love or beauty or anything? You've got to be fearless and you've got to be merciless. You've got to make them kneel before the divine right of ravens. It's a hard thing to accept, but it's the way the world works. And what we're doing, you and me, this adventure of ours? This is the best idea anyone's had in a thousand years. But it all comes down to you. To you suffering in that darkness. To my knowing that you won't let me down. You see what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I do," said Romeo.

Really he didn't see it very well, but it didn't matter - what mattered to him was Shaw's pa.s.sion. The fact that sometimes in his presence Romeo felt OK about the strange meshwork-trap of his life.

When I'm with Shaw, he thought, the rest of the world can go f.u.c.k itself. f.u.c.k itself or not f.u.c.k itself, it's not important because the world doesn't exist exist. It only seems to. The so-called 'world' is here for our amus.e.m.e.nt only.

Two young pigtailed sisters in cutoffs were coming off the pier, lugging a big ice chest between them. Their T-s.h.i.+rts were streaked with shark blood. And Romeo felt bold enough to say: "Hey, check out the meat puppets. They f.u.c.k each other, right?"

"Only every night," said Shaw.

Romeo put a little leering growl into his laugh. "But what's that on their s.h.i.+rts? Could that be menstrual blood?"

"Oh yes," said Shaw. "They're pigs for it."

"They have no idea how disgusting that is?"

"Kids today."

Then they both were laughing. They walked back to the car and took a drive. They cruised aimlessly. They went down some street with a lot of real estate offices and brokerages and big touristy restaurants: Crabdaddies, the Crabshack, My Crabby Aunt Sally. They found another road that ran parallel to the ocean. A lighthouse flashed away in the dark. Rowdy boys were setting off roman candles. Romeo was almost smiling. It was as though he and Shaw were finally on the vacation they'd intended. Now there would be girls and margaritas and softsh.e.l.l crabs, and the whole Southern night spreading out before them.

But in fact they drove for less than ten minutes before Shaw said he had to get back. "I'm worried about the Boatwrights."

So Romeo took him back to Murphy's, and left him there.

He was alone for the trip back across the causeway. He looked out at the vast black marshes, which made him think of death, which made him think of Claude. Jesus. He still had to do something for poor Claude.

Patsy had fallen into a nostalgic mood. It was after midnight, and she and Shaw and Tara and Mitch were in the Liberty on their way home from the party. Shaw wouldn't let them put the a.c. on. He said he wanted the ocean air, so they kept the windows down which reminded Patsy of high school days, of riding around in Danny Duggan's El Camino. Danny hadn't liked a.c. either. Or maybe the a.c. just hadn't worked in his crazy old pickup-car? Anyway, in those days you could still drive on the beach late at night, and if your windows were open the ocean air would come rippling in at you just the way it was doing now. had fallen into a nostalgic mood. It was after midnight, and she and Shaw and Tara and Mitch were in the Liberty on their way home from the party. Shaw wouldn't let them put the a.c. on. He said he wanted the ocean air, so they kept the windows down which reminded Patsy of high school days, of riding around in Danny Duggan's El Camino. Danny hadn't liked a.c. either. Or maybe the a.c. just hadn't worked in his crazy old pickup-car? Anyway, in those days you could still drive on the beach late at night, and if your windows were open the ocean air would come rippling in at you just the way it was doing now.

"Mitch," she said, "you remember Danny Duggan?"

Mitch grunted. "What about him?"

"Remember that thing he drove?"

"I never hung out with Danny Duggan."

"Oh, right," she said. "Danny Duggan wasn't in Bible Club. He was e e-vil."

She was aware of the sharpness in her tone but she didn't care. She was drunk and she didn't care about that either. She proclaimed to the whole car: "Danny Duggan taught me how to dance. He might have been e e-vil but he sure knew how to dance."

n.o.body answered her.

She added, "Though he never danced like you, Shaw."

Does that come across as provocative? she wondered. And do I give a rat's a.s.s? "Shaw. Don't you want me to tell you how you dance?"

"OK."

"Like a lun lun-atic."

She laughed. He didn't laugh with her, though. n.o.body did.

Tara was doing the driving and staring at the road as cold as stone.

Well, probably she was jealous.

Though there was no way to know for sure. Patsy couldn't see her face, and anyway, Tara always buried her feelings; she never shared with her mother. Which was sad. My own daughter is at war with me, she thought. She knows me not. She thinks I'm as churchy as her father. If she knew the wildness in my soul it would blow her mind. If she knew for example the mischief I got into on that trip to Spain when I was her age; oh my Lord in heaven.

And who did did understand that part of Patsy? understand that part of Patsy?