The Executioner's Song (19 page)

                Then he'd drink it afterward. Always getting loaded on beer. She came to realize that there had only been a couple of nights he wasn't drinking. She tried to keep up, but didn't like it that much. He wouldn't even let her leave beer. Didn't like to waste it. If she popped a can, he kept after her to finish.

                Nicole was kind of irked that Gary was not only ripping stuff off, but letting everybody know. He was even bragging to his uncle. Things weren't right yet, but Gary had to drop by anyway, and offer a case. When Vern noticed that the trunk of the Mustang held two more of the same, he asked Gary how he could afford it.

                "I don't need money," Gary said.

                "Do you realize," said Vern, "that you're breaking your parole?" "You wouldn't turn me in, would you?"

                "I might," said Vern. "If it persists, I might turn you in."

                One day he came home with water skis and that bothered Nicole. It just wasn't worth the risk. He was stealing something he. probably couldn't sell for more than $5, yet the price tag was over $200. That meant they could get you for felony. Nicole hated such dumb habits. He would take a chance on all they had for twenty-five bucks. It came over her that this was the first time she ever disliked him.

                As if he sensed it, he then told her the worst story she ever heard, it was supergross. Years ago, while still a kid, he pulled off a robbery with a guy who was a true sadist. The manager of the supermarket was there alone after closing and wouldn't give the combination to the safe. So his friend took the guy upstairs, heated a curling iron, and rammed it.

                She couldn't help herself. She laughed. The story got way in. She had a picture of that fat supermarket manager trying to hold on to the money and the poker going up his ass. Her laughter reached to the place where she hated people who had a lot of things and acted hot shit about it.

                For the first time she had a day when she thought she shouldn't be living with Gary so much. A part of her simply didn't like staying that close to a man for so long a stretch, but as soon as she realized how she felt, Nicole knew she couldn't tell him. He expected their souls to breathe together. More and more, however, an old ugly feeling was coming back. It was the way she got when she had to fit herself to somebody. You could put that off only so long. She still felt better with Gary than with anyone else, but that wasn't going to change the fact that when she got into a bad mood, it was like she had two souls, and one of them loved Gary a lot less than the other. Of course, maybe a part of him was the same way. He couldn't be loving her that much when they got into one of those five-hour deals.

                It happened the night he brought home the water skis. Next morning, she wondered if it had to do with Barrett. Jim had popped up the other day while Gary was out at the store. Walked through the door cool as you please after being away for months. Maybe it was just conditioned reflex, but she felt a little stirring down there.

                After Barrett left, she felt bad at the way she had only kind of told Gary the truth. She had no respect for Barrett, that was right. He was a pussy. But she hadn't let Gary know he could be an eel when came to wiggling all the way in, so when Gary met Jim this first time, he hadn't acted too heavy. Of course, Barrett just acted like was the father of Sunny and happy to be tolerated. Still, Nicole felt like she was keeping a rotten secret. Because Barrett could pass a cigarette and make something out of it. Tickle your memory like was tickling your palm. Hint that you had a gift to offer.

                Now, those last couple of nights, she had been tripping a little on good things in the past with Jim to get herself more in the mood for Gary. Barrett's timing had sure been good, just as Gary's—she had to admit—was getting a little crude. Since Rosebeth, Gary had to make love six or seven times a week. Maybe they'd skip a night, but make up for it with two another. It was his idea, not hers. She enjoyed it more a day or two apart, but he kept pressing his damn luck.

                This night, from seven to midnight, Nicole and Gary argued first about the water skis, then everything else. Finally she convinced Gary she wasn't going to fuck him. He had gone too far on uppers, downers, and around-ers. If she had a gift, Gary was not exactly bringing it out. Not with his demands to do this, do that. Suck him now. She looked at Gary across their bodies and said, "I hate sucking cock."

                The Fiorinal had put a glaze on his eyes, but her words still hit. He took off. Left at midnight and didn't come back until 2. He was hardly through the door when he was asking her to suck him all over again.

                Why? she asked. Like a dunce. Do it because I want you to, he said. It was as bad as the first night. They didn't get to sleep til five. At five-thirty, Gary was up like a maniac, ready for work.

                Between midnight and two, Gary had been to see Spencer and Marie. When McGrath opened the door, Gary asked if he and Marie would like to play three-hand poker.

                Marie was already in bed, but she got up and made a cup of coffee. The McGraths, however, did not want to play poker. Not after midnight. Spencer kept himself from saying, "It's a little rude to come by this late."

                In fact, they were used to seeing Gary drunk. There had been a couple of times he came over at odd hours. Once he really needed calming down. Started to talk about what he would do to a fellow named Pete Galovan.

Another time Gary had dropped in when Spence and Marie were having a barbecue in the backyard. He was so drunk he couldn't lift the latch on the gate. Spence had to go over, and bring him in, give him some chow. There were a number of guests around but Spencer gave Gary full attention and made him drink a couple of cups of coffee. Then he talked about things that were wild. Got into reincarnation.

                "You really believe that?" asked Spencer, "Oh, you bet," said Gary.

                "A lot of people think we come back as other species, like a horse or an insect," Spencer said. "Seems it would be hard to straighten things out if there's all that shuttling back and forth."

                Gary didn't go for Spencer's idea. He was going to come back as a human. If he messed this life up, he'd do a better job in the one. "Why not a better job in this one?" Spencer thought. Chose to say it.

                Of course ever since Gary had found out that Spencer knew little about cars; he had begun to come by on Saturday with the Mustang. The muffler fell off once, and Gary didn't know to get back by tightening the clamp. Hadn't the slightest idea. It wasn't he was lazy, but a month before he might have tried to figure the situation out. Now, he didn't seem to show any initiative. It was like he was offended there was something wrong with the car. What he couldn't recognize was that these malfunctions might be due his inability to drive knowledgeably. One more reason for Spencer to be after him continuously about starting the study program for driver's license. Talking to the wind. Gary could sure keep awake. Spence would have gotten as much sleep if he had played poker.

                He had to admit it, Gary made him sad. In the beginning, he always been coming over to ask Craig Taylor or himself to take at what he had done. If Gary got the hang of something new, he was pleased when they praised him for it. Swelled up proud. Now that had been living with Nicole, Spence didn't know if he cared if he did a good job or not. More like he was putting in his time for a paycheck. Those cutoff Levi's of hers. Gary seemed to be going to the girl's level.

                Unable to sleep, Spencer got mad all over again at the way Gary would now goof off during the day. You had to notice how long he took for lunch. Then, every Thursday he had to leave early to see his parole officer. Plus other time he took for other excuses. Not a week had gone by without asking for extra money, and Spence never deducted the lost hours or his own out-of-pocket from the paycheck. Once, Gary did talk of doing a painting to wipe out the debt, but so soon as Marie and he began to think about it, Gary didn't bring it up anymore.

                Next morning, before they were even straightened out on the job, Gary was asking if anybody'd like to buy a pair of water skis. One fellow came up to Spence to inquire if Gary might have stolen them. Spence asked, "Are they brand-new?" Couldn't believe Gary had ripped off water skis. A man might slip cufflinks or a watch into his pocket, but how did you steal those big slats right out of a store?

                Spencer looked upon himself as a real simple character, but he was beginning to wonder if Gary was taking marijuana on the job or something. He sure looked awful this morning.

                "Gary," Spence said, "let's get down to something basic. Every week you're broke. Why don't you take the money you spend on beer and save it?" Gary said, "I don't pay for beer." "Well, then who in hell gives it to you?" Gary said, "I just walk in a store, and take a six, pack."

                Spence said, "Nobody catches you, huh?" "No." "How long you been doing that?" "Weeks." Spencer said, "Steal a six-pack of beer day and never been caught?" Gary said, "Never." Spencer said, "I don't know. How come people get caught and you don't?" Gary said, "I'm better than they are."

                "I think you're pulling my leg," said Spencer.

                Gary proceeded to tell about the black convict he had stabbed 57 times. Now Spencer thought Gary was trying to impress him with how tough he was, see if he would scare. "Come on, Gary," he said, "57 times sounds like a variety of soup."

                After they finished laughing, Gary broke it to Spence. He'd like to get off early on Friday.

                "I don't know if you've noticed," said Spence, "but the other fellows don't take off. They work all day, and take care of things after hours. That's how it's normally done."

                Still, he gave him the time. One more time. Spence felt a little uneasy. After all, the government, with the ex-convicts' program, was paying half of Gary's $3.50 an hour. It could account for why Gary was giving him half an hour on the hour.

                One afternoon, while Nicole was away on a visit to Kathryne, Barrett visited the house in Spanish Fork and found Rosebeth there. By the time Nicole came back, her little friend was no virgin anymore.

                At first, Rosebeth merely mentioned that Barrett had been there. Oh, Nicole asked, for how long? About an hour, said Rosebeth, and a half. Nicole began to laugh, If Barrett wasn't feeling bashful, he was in bed. An hour and a half was time enough for Barrett. Seeing that Nicole wasn't upset, Rosebeth began to giggle. She knew now, she told Nicole, why Gary had never been able to put it in. Too big. Nicole and Rosebeth began to have this long laugh waiting for Gary to get home from work.

                Gary, however, had dropped in on Val Conlin. The beer he brought was ice cold. After that run-in for not paying on time, Gary made a practice of bringing a six-pack when he went by. Val was appreciative.

                Gary had his eye on a truck. The one on the lot that was painted white.

                "Buddy," said Val, "pay off the Mustang and I'll get you something better."

                "I got to have that truck."

                "No can do without mucho mazuma," said Val. The truck was up for sale at $1,700. "Listen, pardner, unless you come back with a co-signer, it's too good a truck for you."

                Gary thought he could. Maybe his Uncle Vern.

                "I know Vern," said Val, "and I don't think he's in shape for this kind of credit. But, if you want, have him fill out the application. We can always see what we can do."

                "Okay," said Gary, "okay." He hesitated. "Val," he said, "that Mustang is no good. I had to put a new battery in, and an alternator. It came to fifty dollars."

                "What do you want me to do?"

                "Well, if I buy the truck, I think you could allow for what I had to lay out on the Mustang."

                "Gary, you buy the truck, and we'll knock off that fifty dollars. No problem. Just get a cosigner."

                "Val, I don't need a co-signer. I can make the payments." "No co-signer, no truck. Pardner, let's keep it simple." "The goddamn Mustang isn't any good."

                "Gary, I'm doing you the favor. If you don't want the Mustang leave the son of a bitch right out there."

                "I want the truck."

                "The only way you get the truck is by putting a lot of money on the front end of the loan. Or come in with a co-signer. Here, take this credit application to Vern."

                Gary sat across the desk, looking out the window at the white truck on the end of the line. It was as white as the snow you could still see on the peak of the mountains.

                "Gary, fill out the application and bring it back."

                Val knew it. Gary was madder than hell. He didn't say a word, just took the application, got up, walked out the door, wadded it up, and threw it on the ground.

                Harper, Val's salesman, said, "Boy, he's hot."

                "I don't give a shit," said Val. Around him, people got hot. That was run of the mill. Just his hell-of-a-success-story boiling away.