Black Angus by Newton Thornburg Read Free Book Online Page B

then.”
    â€œI’m not complaining.”
    Little smiled contentedly, as if the information pleased him. “Well, good, I’m glad to hear it. Glad someone’s making out anyway.”
    Shea laughed with amiable scorn. “Only way he’s making out is with your sister.”
    Before Blanchard could respond, Shea gestured for him to slide out of the booth.
    â€œC’mon, let’s go wee-wee,” he said. “My tooth is floating.”
    Blanchard obediently led the way back to the men’s room, which for a change did not reek of vomit. Nevertheless there was considerable urine on the floor, not to mention in the washbasin, which most of the good old boys considered a third toilet to be pressed into service whenever the other two were occupied. Shea as usual preferred to stand at the stool, evidently enjoying the great splash he made there.
    â€œHow come you’re so cool toward Little?” he asked. “He’s just a poor little ex-con.”
    â€œMy heart bleeds.”
    â€œOh I know how he comes on, I mean that horrible pretty-boy face of his, like you took Ronda and chained her to a tree and whipped her for a year and fed her bushels of testosterone, then dressed her up in drag.”
    Blanchard could not help laughing. “Is he that bad?”
    â€œThat’s my point. He ain’t. He’s just kind of creepy is all. And he’s not himself with you.”
    Finished, Blanchard lit a cigarette. “Well, that sure is tough.”
    â€œFor him it just might be. Ronda’s probably got you all built up for him, like some kind of big shot, you know? Ad exec turned shitkicker—”
    â€œOh come on, knock it off. You think I don’t know what you two were waltzing around about out there—him with his big quiz about my ranch, and you carrying on about some grand enterprise? You told me what he did time for, remember? So spare me the stroking.”
    Shea came out of the stool stall looking wide-eyed and innocent, like an enormous Spanky. “Just what are you accusing me of now? What nefarious suspicions are festering—”
    â€œFuck off.”
    â€œBut you accuse me.”
    â€œYeah, and you know you got it coming. Your poor litile con out there, he probably thinks you’re serious. And why not? That’s what he is, a thief and a criminal. It’s what he does . So how do you explain it to him finally, that you’re just playing games? Like that arm-wrestling bit out there. For everyone else it’s life and death, and you sit there winking at me.”
    Shea still looked dumbfounded. “What can I say, except I don’t have the foggiest what you’re talking about?”
    â€œFine. Let’s keep it that way.”
    â€œHow could I do otherwise?”
    â€œShea the Innocent.”
    â€œThat’s me.”
    â€œThen tell me, how come you’re suddenly so tight with an ex-con—who might even be a murderer, did you know that?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIt’s possible. It’s rumored anyway.”
    â€œEven more reason, then.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œTo have a few beers with the man. See what makes him tick.”
    â€œAh yes, the great search. The grand quest. I keep forgetting.”
    Shaking his head sadly, Shea came over and placed his hands on Blanchard’s shoulders, dropped them actually, like a pair of shovels. And Blanchard felt some small part of that iron grip which had taken down the other men earlier. At the same time he noticed the heaviness in his friend’s eyes, the mists of alcohol he was trying to peer through.
    â€œBobby, you know you’re my buddy, don’t you? One of the few old Darling hands worth a shit. Which of course is why I’m here, right—abusing your hospitality and getting in Susan’s hair. But buddies or not, old fellow, I must say this, in all candor—you are dumb, Roberto. You are one dumb