He wasn’t doing anything but sleeping, and I knew it wouldn’t go over well with her. I decided to stop anyway. I whipped it around in the middle of the road and went back to her house. I pulled up in front like I belonged there—after all, I did—and sat down on the horn. Nothing happened for about two minutes. Then somebody came to the front door and peeked out. Then another person came and peeked out. I figured the second one was probably her daddy with a gun. I let off the horn.

I already had it in reverse when she came out the door. She had on white pants and a black blouse, and she had a purse with her. I hated I’d even stopped.

“Hey, Velma,” I said. “I’m Leon. Remember me?”

She poked her head in the car. I turned on the interior light so she could see him.

“What’s the matter with him?” she said. She looked at her watch. “He’s two hours late.”

“I believe he’s having a little sinking spell. I’m surprised you waited this long.”

“What’d you do? Take him off and get him drunk?”

I thought about it. I remembered how nasty she’d been when her brothers got killed, but that had been understandable. On the other hand, I didn’t know why Monroe was messing around with her, even though he’d said that her nooky was excellent. That was probably true, based on the fact that the worst I’ve ever had was wonderful.

“Yeah,” I said. “I tied him down and taped a funnel on his mouth and then poured ten Old Milwaukees down him. Then I poured four shots of peppermint schnapps down him. Then I poured two shots of whiskey down him. Then I poured a snifter of brandy down him. Then I poured two martinis down him. Then he puked. But I kept pouring it down him. Then I opened a bottle of tequila.”

“Oh bullshit,” she said. She went around to the passenger side and got in. “Just drive me uptown,” she said. “I’ll get him sobered up after awhile. You got a beer in here?”

“Trunk’s full of it.”

“Well, how about getting me one out?”

“That your daddy looking out the window?”

“Yeah. He watches me like a hawk now. Where’s that beer?”