The Ranger - Ace Atkins [87]
Gowrie noticed him looking. “I was painting.”
“Didn’t expect you before sunrise,” Stagg said.
“I was up.”
“What’s happened?”
“Just some shit. What do you want?”
The room was filled with all kinds of busted-up video games. Johnny made a fortune out of them before kids started hookin’ up to their TVs and carrying games around in their back pockets. Most of them were broken, but sometimes he’d pull out a Ms. Pac-Man or an old shoot-’em-up and let the girls over at the Booby Trap have a go when things got slow. You never saw a competition in your life like a contest between women who were on the skids. He’d seen pretty hair pulled and death threats issued.
“Why don’t you throw all this shit away?” Gowrie asked.
“Campo’s been trying to find you. He thinks you’re duckin’ him and we’ve cut him out.”
Gowrie didn’t say anything, sliding out of his leather jacket real gingerly, favoring a bad shoulder, and slunk down into an old Turbo driving game. He played with the shifter, the screen just as black and dead as you please, and thumped at the wheel.
“You owe him some money.”
“He’ll get his money,” Gowrie said, spinning the wheel to the right and then hard to the left, downshifting and back up. “This thing work?”
“We’re gonna have to shut down for a while,” Stagg said. “And you’re gonna have to pay him what’s owed.”
“That’s what you said,” Gowrie said. “You ever think about my shit?”
Gowrie got up, favoring his left arm, and passed within an inch of Stagg’s nose, looking at him hard, jail dog kind of stuff, and reached for the cord, searching for a place to plug in the game, juice her up. Gowrie’s scent reminded Stagg of a feral animal. “Ah, hell.”
“It ain’t forever.”
“You scared of that little Italian?”
“Do you know what kind of people Bobby Campo works for? They’re blaming me.”
“And how come this shit storm is flying ’round my head?” Gowrie asked, smiling. He found an outlet, plugged her up, and the game started to hum and chatter, loading. “That man wears shoes like you’d buy for a woman. Talks about his momma like she was the Mother Mary herself.”
“I said Campo blames me,” Stagg said. “How come he’s got that idea? He’s thinkin’ I get a cut.”
“You act like we’ve been buds for a while,” Gowrie said, staring straight ahead, watching the colored cars and roads and checkered flag come to life. There was a city way off in the distance, and he watched it as if the whole window was real. He thumped the steering wheel some more, shifted up and down, and mashed the accelerator. “Let’s go. Hell. Shit, you started this mess, wanting my boys to steal that man’s cattle.”
“Boy, you’re flying a million miles an hour on those eleven herbs and spices.”
“That son of a bitch shot me in the back with an arrow,” Gowrie said. “Missed my heart by an inch. So why don’t you get Campo’s dick out of your mouth before blaming me?”
“That don’t sound Christian,” Stagg said, smiling. “I don’t care for that kind of talk.”
Gowrie grinned back. “Only religion I found gets counted at the church.”
“I’m headed to see Brother Davis right now,” Stagg said. “I wanted to tell you face-to-face.”
“You touch that money stash and I’ll kill your ass.”
“If that money don’t get to where it’s owed, they’re comin’ for me.”
“I’m sick and tired of people using me up,” Gowrie said. “You keep clean, don’t you, Brother Stagg? You don’t have to keep your money in some movie-house church.”
Stagg didn’t say anything.
“Hell no. You got clean money in a regular bank. Ain’t no filth on those pressed good-ole-boy slacks.”
The checkered flag flew, and Gowrie was off, shifting up