The pain grabbed her chest again, knocking her back from the stool. For a moment she thought she’d been kicked. But it kept up, her breath, she couldn’t get her breath, couldn’t move her arm, her hand, my God, it was on fire. Her right hand clutched and tore at her clothes, get loose, get loose! Give me air, breath, oh, God, not yet, please, I have one more thing to do, just one more thing, just one more try, please, oh, God, please.

23

CHAPTER 23

Leslie saw the Bronco come down the street just as he was ready to jump into his own rust bucket. He stopped instead and watched it approach. It was beautiful. I’d give my left nut for something like that, he thought.

The new truck had giant tires, lifting it high off the ground. It was painted in two colors, a bright green-blue and cream. It had lots of chrome—even the lug nuts on the wheels were shiny and silver. It had driving lights mounted below the grill, with their little yellow slip­covers still on. Looked brand-new. What a beauty. Admiration turned to envy, then quickly to disgust. Some rich motherfucker who won’t take care of it. I’d take care of that baby if it was mine.

The Bronco cruised slowly through town, then pulled into a parking space next to the bank. Leon hopped out.

Leon! That sonofabitch! Leslie’s fists clamped hard, and he slammed shut the door to his truck, feeling the whole rusted-body shimmy with the impact. Leon walked around the front of the new truck and toward the bank. Leslie ran a few steps to catch up, then slowed to a walk before he called out.

“Hey, Leon.”

Leon turned, smiling, then scowled as he saw Leslie’s toothless grin.

“Hey, Leslie,” he said softly.

“Where’d you get the buggy?”

“Oh, nice, isn’t it?”

“It’s okay. Say, where’d you get the bread for it?”

This guy’s got more nerve, Leon thought. “It’s Martha’s.”

Leslie hooted. “Martha’s? Martha don’t drive. You mean she bought it for her little gigolo, eh, Leon? You pervert.”

Leon walked toward the bank, turning his back on Leslie.

“Think I might take a tire iron to this pretty paint job tonight, Leon. Yep. That big ole windshield ought to just crack into a million little spiderwebs.”

Leon took three large steps backward and grabbed Leslie by the arm. He was surprised how small the other man was; they’d never really gotten this close. His hand went all the way around Leslie’s skinny wrist.

“You touch that truck and I’ll bust your friggin’ head, Leslie.”

“Let me go.”

“Leave us alone, you hear?”

“I hear, I hear, now let me go.”