The Devil's Right Hand - J. D. Rhoades [39]
“I won’t say anything,” the kid whispered. “I promise.”
DeWayne snorted in derision. “Right,” he said. “Boss comes back, all the money’s gone from the register, you got a tank o’gas not paid fer, and two sixes of beer missin’, plus a carton of smokes. An’ you’re not gonna say anything about where they’ve gone? Don’t bullshit me, Todd.”
“Please,” the kid begged. “Please don’t kill me.”
“It’s not like I want to, kid,” DeWayne said with real regret in his voice. “I ain’t got to where I enjoy it. Not yet, an’ I suppose that’s a blessin’. But it’s like I said. I can’t take no chances. I coulda shot a couple other people tonight. I didn’t do it. Now…I’m thinkin’ maybe I oughta done it.” The kid began to sob uncontrollably then. DeWayne’s earlier frenzy had worn off. All he felt now was tired, bone-weary. The kid’s wailing was beginning to get on his nerves. Besides, he had to get moving. He raised the gun. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. As he took aim, an idea came to him.
“Kid,” he said. Todd sobbed harder. “Kid! Damn it, look up!” Finally, Todd raised his tear-streaked face. He looked like a three-year-old.
“You got a girlfriend, bubba?” DeWayne asked. After a moment, the kid nodded. “You got a picture of her?” Todd looked at him dumfounded for a moment, then pulled out his wallet. “Slide that over to me,” DeWayne said. Todd did. DeWayne picked it up and flipped it open. A picture of a young blonde girl stared up at him. She was seated in a porch swing, looking at the camera with a bright smile. DeWayne stared at the picture for a long moment and sighed. There was a whole world in that picture that DeWayne would never see. “She’s a cutie-pie there, Todd,” he said. “What’s her name?”
“S-s-Sandy,” Todd said.
“Y’all got it on yet?” he asked.
“Th-that’s…n-none of your…” Todd stammered.
“Thought not,” DeWayne grinned. “So where’s she live?” DeWayne said. There was no answer. He looked up. Todd was staring at him with an expression of horror. DeWayne raised the gun again. “Answer the question, Todd,” he said.
Todd shook his head. “No,” he said. “No way. You’ll hurt her.”
“I ain’t never hurt a woman before in my life that didn’t deserve it,” DeWayne said. “But I tell you my plan. When the cops get here, you tell ‘em a pair of wild-ass screamin’ niggers in a pick up truck come in here with bandanas on and robbed you.” He gestured towards the parking lot with his head. “I got a police scanner in my vehicle yonder. I hear anything different, like a good description of me or my car, I pay Miss Sandy here a visit right quick. If I’m gonna spend the rest of my life in the joint waitin’ to die, I figger I’m gonna need one last bit of pussy to tide me over, know what I mean? But if you do like I say, she’ll be okay and save that nice cherry just for you. Or,” he said, raising the gun again, “I could just kill you and not worry about it. So what’s it gonna be, Todd?” He pulled back the hammer.
“Seventy-one-oh-three Black Oak Church Road!” Todd screamed. “Oh, GOD please don’t...” DeWayne stood up. He scooped up the beer and cigarettes and walked towards the door.
“Mister?” the kid said. DeWayne stopped and turned back. The clerk gestured towards the ceiling. DeWayne looked up. A small video camera was mounted on the wall behind him, pointed at the sales counter. “There’s a videotape of you in here,” the kid said. “It won’t matter what I say.”
“I hope you know how to get the tape out,” DeWayne said. The kid nodded and reached under the counter. DeWayne raised the gun again in case the kid wanted to try anything. He tensed when he saw the black object in the kid’s hand until he saw it was a small videotape.
“Thanks, bubba,” he said as he walked over and took the tape. "I knew you was a smart one. Now you and that pretty