Caught Stealing - Charlie Huston [99]
—Car accident.
—¿Si? Ouch.
—Mucho ouch.
He laughs and stamps my papers.
—Have a nice visit, sir.
—Thank you.
I’m walking toward the exit. Up ahead there is a small traffic light. As passengers arrive at the light, they push a little button. If the light flashes green, they exit the airport. Red, and they and their bags are subjected to a random search. I push the button.
It’s a very Christmassy kind of green.
EPILOGUE
OCTOBER 1, 2000
Single-Game Playoff
The town is about an hour south of Cancún. It’s small, nice. I’m in a bar. The bar is on the beach; it has no walls and is covered by a roof of logs and thatched palm leaves. Instead of a stool, I sit on a rope swing suspended from the timbers of the roof. I sway in a warm breeze and, if I dangle my legs right, my toes drag back and forth in the sand. It is early evening and a thunderstorm is swinging in from offshore. Lightning is crackling over the perfect sea and bathwater-warm rain will soon fall. There are pretty girls everywhere and the stereo behind the bar is playing Stevie Ray Vaughn’s “Pride and Joy.” Bud is sprawled on the bar next to me, woozy but awake. The bartenders think it’s very funny I brought my cat, but they like him. Everybody likes Bud. The pretty girls especially like Bud. I have a room up the beach a little. It has a balcony and a hammock. I stopped by the gift shop long enough to buy some shorts and sandals, took a shower in my room and left the money bag in the closet. Then I took a walk and found this place.
On the bar I have spread out various relics I found in Bud’s bag. The plane ticket I would have used to get home at Christmas. Mario’s card. Ed’s card. Roman’s card. The police photo of Yvonne’s neck. I think about how mad she used to get at me for always living in the past. I close my eyes and feel the sun and the breeze and see the pile of bodies behind the bar at Paul’s. Russ holding Bud. Ed and Paris holding hands. Bolo putting out his arms for balance just before he went down. Roman just wanting me to get it over with.
On the bar they have set out bowls full of Spanish peanuts dusted with chili powder. I take a handful and eat them one by one. They’re good. I hold one out to Bud and he licks the powder off.
I’m drinking Jarritos orange soda. Soon, at 6:00, it will be happy hour. For every drink I order, they will bring me three. At 6:30, they will turn on the TV above the bar and show the satellite broadcast of the Mets vs. Giants, live from New York. I curl my toes and crunch the cool, damp sand. My feet don’t hurt at all. Someone rings a bell. It’s 6:00. I signal the bartender and order a beer.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Charlie Huston is a novelist and screenwriter. He currently lives in Manhattan with his wife, the actress Virginia Louise Smith.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Ballantine Book
Published by The Random House Publishing Group
Copyright © 2004 by Charles Huston
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright
Conventions. Published in the United States by The Random House
Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and
simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
Grateful acknowledgment is made to WARNER BROS. PUBLICATIONS U.S. INC.
for permission to reprint excerpts from the lyrics of “Keep On Keeping On” by
Curtis Mayfield on page 213. © 1971 (renewed) Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp.,
Warner Bros. Publications U.S. Inc., Miami, Florida 33014. All rights reserved.
Used by permission.
Ballantine and colophon are registered trademarks of
Random House, Inc.
www.ballantinebooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is available
from the publisher upon request.
eISBN: 978-0-345-47829-0
v3.0