BooksBarbecue
Back The Deal Goes Down
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. Other Titles
  3. Dedication
  4. CHAPTER ONE
  5. CHAPTER TWO
  6. CHAPTER THREE
  7. CHAPTER FOUR
  8. CHAPTER FIVE
  9. CHAPTER SIX
  10. CHAPTER SEVEN
  11. CHAPTER EIGHT
  12. CHAPTER NINE
  13. CHAPTER TEN
  14. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  15. CHAPTER TWELVE
  16. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  17. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  18. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  19. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  20. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  21. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  22. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  23. CHAPTER TWENTY
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  33. CHAPTER THIRTY
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  43. CHAPTER FORTY
  44. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  45. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  46. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  47. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  48. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
  52. CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
  53. CHAPTER FIFTY
  54. CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
  55. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I was conscious of the press of her breasts. My male response was very much as Elizabeth’s anger described it—that they were signals that here’s a body with a vagina, the most pleasurable place to put a penis—simple, basic, crude, and often expressed with enthusiastic vulgarity. Even the smell of alcohol coming from her was a message from the signifyin’ monkey, here’s a woman at work lowering her inhibitions. Take away three, two, maybe just one, of my decades, I’d have let reckless greed rise up, pulled her in tight, even reached for the virago who was standing by, watching us with the lip-locked glower of a Baptist-Opposed-to-Dancing, in an attempt to bring her into a cozy circle of lust.

I gave Madelaine a hug of reassurance, just long enough not to be rude, as I might with a gay male second cousin, then stepped back as I straightened her up to stand on her own. She lifted her head to look at me.

“It’s all over,” I said. “It’s done. It worked. You’re safe.”

She nodded, with her eyes still looking in mine, and said, “Drink something with me.”

Elizabeth spoke up. She was still crisp and businesslike, “Not only are we going to pay you,” but also genial and inclusive, and, as my head turned to look at her, she added, “We have great plans for you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

OUR TOWN, WOODSTOCK

“Boom shaka-laka-laka. Boom shaka-laka-laka.”

SYLVESTER “SLY & THE FAMILY” STEWART

I SLEPT THE SLEEP OF the just. Of the innocent. Of the safe.

I woke rested and calm.

I’d pulled it off. I was getting paid for a murder I hadn’t committed. It was foolproof. Impenetrable. It could not be unraveled.

Maybe I’d just gotten lucky.

Or the old god who lived in the oak had been so excited by the fact that someone had actually come to him, spoken to him, recognized his divinity, however dated and superannuated, that he had left his root-bound habitat for the night and snuck into modern times to consort with the three Norns, the Fates—Urd, what once was, who finds the threads of our lives, Mick’s, Allison’s, and mine; Verdandi, what is, who weaves them together; and Skuld, what will come, who picked one thread, Mick’s, and cut it short.

—

I kicked the blanket off.

I walked outside, barefoot and bare-assed, while the cats ran in. There was ice. There was frost. It gave me a wake-up shake. I thought I could smell snow, still a long way off, coming from over the mountains. Wishful thinking.

I got dressed, fed the cats, and went into town.

Beinhart was at Bread Alone, as usual, in his regular corner, The New York Times open in front of him. He claims to read it for the comedy, and sure enough he broke out cackling.