Blacktop Wasteland(10)

“Yeah!” Kelvin had spoken up. Of course it was Kelvin. He had even raised his hand.

Beauregard’s father had laughed so hard he had started coughing.

“Boy, your Mama would have both our asses in a sling. Maybe in a few years.”

When they had pulled into the yard the three of them had leaned over the front seat to watch the belching, groaning claw crane drop a car into the crusher. It tumbled trunk over hood before slamming into the compactor.

“Chompy Number One, finish him!” Kaden had howled. Beauregard’s Daddy had told Boonie and the names had stuck. They’d never had that shot of whiskey, though.

The word “OFFICE” was spelled out on the door using lengths of copper tubing. Beauregard knocked three times on the door in quick succession. You never knew what kind of business was being conducted in there, so it was best to knock.

“Come on in,” a raspy voice said. Boonie was sitting behind his desk. A slab of iron on four wide metal cylinders. A ragged AC wheezed from the window over his shoulder. It was making more noise than cool air. A smattering of file cabinets and shelves ran along the walls. Boonie smiled.

“Bug! How the hell you doing? Boy, I ain’t seen you in what? Six months? A year?” Boonie said.

“Ain’t been that long. Just been busy at the shop.”

“Aw, I’m just fucking with you, boy. I know you working your ass off over there. I ain’t mad atcha. I just … just seems like you ain’t around like you used to be,” Boonie said. He took off his oil-stained baseball cap and fanned himself. His iron gray flattop contrasted with his coal black skin.

“I know. How things been around here?”

“Aw, ya know. Steady. People never run out of junk.”

Beauregard sat down in a folding chair next to the desk. “Yeah, always got shit to throw away.”

“How you been? How’s Kia and the boys?”

“They alright. Darren had to get some glasses and now Javon gotta have some special kind of braces. Kia doing alright. Coming up on five years at the hotel. Anything else going on?” he said.

Boonie replaced his hat and cocked his head at Beauregard. “You asking?” he said.

Beauregard nodded his head.

“Not that I ain’t glad to see you cuz you know I am, but I thought you was done,” Boonie said.

“I’ve just hit a rough patch. Things been kind of tough ever since Precision opened up,” Beauregard said.

Boonie entwined his fingers and laid them on his prodigious belly.

“Well, I wish I had something, but things have really dried up these last few years. The Italians got pushed out by the Russians, and the Russians only using their own crews. Shit, Bug, it’s been real quiet. Them Russians coming through sounding like Ivan Koloff trying to be all scary and shit,” Boonie said. He made a face like he had bitten into a rotten apple.

Beauregard let his hands hang between his knees and lowered his head.

“You ever thought about going out West? I hear there’s still some work out that way for a fella who know his way around a steering wheel.”

Beauregard grunted. “My Daddy went out West and didn’t never come back,” he said.

Boonie sighed. “Your Daddy … your Daddy was one of a kind. I only seen two other men who could handle a car under the hood or behind the wheel like Ant Montage. You one of them. The other one is locked up in Mecklenburg. Your Daddy was as good a driver as he was a friend. And he was a damn good driver,” Boonie said. He pushed his baseball cap back on his head and stared at the aluminum beams in the ceiling.

Beauregard knew he was seeing it in his mind. Seeing him and his father flying down the road moving moonshine or speeding away from a bank robbery on the streets of Philadelphia, hooting and hollering all the way.

“You still think he might come back?” Beauregard said.

“Huh?”

“Daddy. You still think he might show up on my doorstep one day? Carrying a basketball and bottle of Jack so we can go catch up,” Beauregard said.

Boonie blew some air between his full lips. “Men like your Daddy, like me, like you used to be, we don’t die in hospital beds. Ant wasn’t perfect. He loved driving, drinking, and women, in that order. He lived life at 100 miles per hour. Men like that, well, they go out on their own terms, usually with a bang. But I tell you what, if he did go out that way, you can bet your ass he took some boys with him. You look so much like him. It’s like he spit you out. But you different. Your Daddy, he just won’t the settling down type. That made things hard for him and your Mama. How is Ella these days?”

“She doing. She over at the nursing home. Her cancer done slowed down but she still smoking like she got a bad ring in her engine,” Beauregard said.

“Damn. That cancer, boy, it just takes ’em down inch by inch. Louise went down so fast. Doctor told her she had it in March, she was gone by September. How long your Mama had it?” Boonie asked.

“Since ’95.” Beauregard said. He thought his mother was going to outlive them all. Unlike Mrs. Boonie, she was too mean to die.

“Ella was always tough as shoe leather,” Boonie said. He smiled at his own joke.

“Well, I guess I should get on down the road, Boonie.” Beauregard stood.

“Hey, hold up, let’s have a drink real quick,” Boonie said. He swiveled in his chair and grabbed a mason jar out of one of the drawers in the filing cabinet directly behind him.