Executioner's Song, The - Norman Mailer [55]
"Oh, no. You ought to see him."
"Gary, you're on parole," lectured Spencer McGrath. "If you're in a bar and have a fight, they'll throw your tail in jail. When you handle a drink, leave it alone."
Later that morning, Gary came over, "Spence, I thought about it," he said quietly, "and I believe you were telling me for my own good. I'm going to quit drinking."
Spencer agreed. He tried to reinforce the lecture. Suppose he, Spencer McGrath, went into a bar, had a few drinks, got into a fight, and the police came and threw him in jail. He would be in a fix, right? But that would never be nearly as much trouble as if Gilmore got thrown in. That would be a direct violation of parole. Gary asked, "Spence, have you ever been in jail?" "Well, no," said Spence.
Gary was expecting Nicole for lunch but when she did not show up, he sat down next to Craig Taylor, the foreman. They were friendly enough to eat together time to time. It worked out well because Gary liked to converse and Craig never said a word more than he had to, just flexed his big arms and shoulders.
Today, Gary began to speak of prison. Now and again he would go on about that. This may have been one of those days. Gary got around to mentioning that he knew Charles Manson.
Name-dropping, Craig decided, blinking his eyes behind his glasses. They were sipping beer, and Gary was a lot braver, Craig observed, when he had a few beers. "In prison, I killed a guy," said Gary. "He was black and big and I stabbed him 57 times. Then I propped him up on his bunk, crossed his legs, put his baseball cap on his head, and stuck a cigarette in his mouth."
Craig noticed Gary was taking pills. A white downer. Called it Fiorinal. He offered one to Craig, who refused it. Those pills didn't seem to make much difference in Gilmore's personality. He was sure keyed-up.
Nicole came in just as they were done eating. As soon as she and Gary started talking, Craig could see they looked upset. They were squeezing each other's hands, and gave each other a big kiss and said goodbye. The kiss was Gary's way of showing he had a beautiful chick and everybody better know it, so Craig wasn't impressed by that. But the squeezing of hands looked different. Afterward, Gary acted odd all afternoon.
Craig sent him out in a two-ton truck with a kid also named Gary, an 18-year-old, Gary Weston. They were on a job to insulate a house, and had to blow a plastic coat into the walls, then the insulating material. Dry work for the nostrils. Somewhere along, Gary dropped into a store, lifted a six-pack, and began drinking on the job.
Gary Weston didn't say anything. Being 18, he didn't think it was his place.
While they were working along, Gilmore said, "Let's steal the truck."
"What do you mean?"
"Let's come back tonight and steal it. Then we'll paint it and sell it."
Weston didn't want to get him mad. "Well, Gary," he said, "we insulate for the guy who owns the truck. We kind of know him real well."
"Yeah, can't do it to a friend," said Gary, sipping his beer.
When Weston got back, he told a few of the others. They all had a good laugh. Gary had obviously had a couple of beers. You don't steal a truck.
Before leaving work that night, Spencer asked if he had gotten his license. Gary said that Oregon still hadn't sent it over. Something about how they couldn't find the license. The story was one dam thing after another.
Spencer said that since they couldn't locate the old one, Gary ought to sign up for the driver's training course.
Gary said, "That test is for kids. I'm a grown man and it's beneath me."
Spencer tried to get him over this. "The law," he said, "is for everybody. They're not singling you out." He tried to explain. "If I were in some state and didn't have a driver's license, they would make me take it too. Do you think you're better than I am?"
"Excuse me," said Gary at last, "I've got to call Nicole." As he walked off, he said, "Real good advice. Thanks, Spencer, for the good advice." Quick to get away.
The message Nicole had brought at lunchtime was that Mont