“Ha,” Buster White said, grinning and reaching up to the waitress for his Bloody Mary, watching her ass switch and sway as she walked off. “Fannie giving you some trouble? Don’t worry. I’ll talk to her. She’s going through a time. She was so torn up at the service but had to hold it all in on account of Ray’s family. But I’m pretty sure Ray’s wife knew who she was. They had some kind of open deal going on. One look at Fannie and his wife couldn’t really blame the son of a bitch. I don’t care how old she is.”

Vardaman was sweating in his dark blue suit, long red tie barely unknotted, Buster noticing the guy still had on some kind of makeup. You could see it around his ears and where his forehead met the big sweep of silver hair. He was seated sideways on the lounge, the two waitresses on the other side of him still knocked out. Vardaman rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, Buster really hoping the guy hadn’t gone full-tilt nuts and wanted him to pray with him. He looked nervous, a little jittery.

“I told Skinner he can shut down Vienna’s Place,” Vardaman said. “What you do with Fannie Hathcock is your problem. I’ve been doing business in Tibbehah County for a long while. It’s unseemly as hell to have that titty bar right off the road. I want it gone. Take it over to Calhoun County or somewhere in Alabama. I don’t give a damn. But it’s over.”

“And you think because Ray’s dead, I’ll do it?”

“You don’t like that goddamn bitch any better than me.”

“Don’t fool yourself,” Buster said, sipping the Bloody Mary through a straw. “What I like or don’t like doesn’t have a damn thing to do with business. You don’t ever stick your dick down the throat of the golden goose. You just might choke the bitch.”

Buster White was losing his mind with this spray-tanned, holier-than-thou jackoff. He’d put up with him for too damn long. Working with him on account of Stagg and then Ray and then with his Ole Miss crotch sniffers over in Jackson. If it weren’t for Buster, this fucking guy would still be trying to pass legislation to turn 45 into Jefferson Davis Highway or skimming off the top of every two-bit road and bridge project instead of picking out goddamn drapes for the governor’s mansion.

“This isn’t about Fannie,” Buster said. “You made some kind of deal with Skinner. For what?”

“She’ll be shut down before the election,” Vardaman said. “I’ll hold a press conference with the highway patrol. I can’t imagine what all she’s running out of that claptrap.”