“Well, shit happens,” Ralph said. “We gotta figure out where we’re all gonna sleep. I could spoon up with this one here.” He nodded at Cox.
Cox said, “Fuck that, you old monster.”
* * *
—
“WE GOTTA lot of talking to do before morning,” Deese said to Ralph. “You still cook up some meth?”
“From time to time,” Ralph said. “Getting tougher, though.”
“Probably gonna need a few hits to stay awake tomorrow,” Deese said. “How about that old motorcycle? You still got it? Still work?”
“Works fine. It’s the only way I can get up to the mine.”
“We’re gonna need to take it with us. And your truck,” Deese said. “Anyway, we’ll talk later, tell you about it. Right now I’m gonna take Gloria in the back room for a few minutes.”
Gloria had been snuffling all the time they were in the trailer and now Deese pushed her toward the bedroom.
“Don’t let him do this, don’t let him do this,” she pleaded with them, looking mostly at Cox. “Don’t let him . . . You know what he’s going to do.”
Then the two were in the bedroom and the door slammed.
Ralph asked Cole, “How much do you want for this one?” and nodded at Cox.
“What’s wrong with you people?” Cox asked. To Ralph: “Fuck you.” And to Cole: “We gotta get out of here. You got the car keys.”
Ralph took a couple of steps back and lifted his shotgun. “Can’t let you do that. I’m gonna need some of that money Clayton’s after. Sit down and take it easy and we’ll talk to Clayton when he gets done.”
Gloria Harrelson cried out from the bedroom, and Cox said, “You know what he’s doing back there.”
Ralph took another couple of steps back and sank into a rickety wooden chair, the gun still up, and said, “Well, hell. That’s what women’re for. Always has been, always will be. Might rip off a piece myself, if Clay says okay. Been a while since I been down to Vegas.”
“If you do that, you’ll have to kill her so she doesn’t come back on you,” Cole said. “That’d be cold-blooded murder.”
Ralph pulled at the top of one ear, then said, “Well . . . yeah, I guess. That seems to be baked in the cake anyway.”
They could hear sex sounds from the bedroom, and Cole asked, “You got any music here?”
“I got a radio,” he said. “It’s behind you. The right knob turns it on. It’s old rock and roll.”
Cole turned, saw the old brown Bakelite box, turned the right knob, and Led Zeppelin came up with “Whole Lotta Love.”
“I hate that old shit,” Cox said. They heard another cry from Gloria Harrelson. “Turn it up louder.”
* * *
—
DEESE SPENT forty-five minutes in the bedroom, then came out, pulling up his pants, and said to Ralph, “I used some of that baling wire to tie up her leg to the bed. You can’t get them windows open, can you?”
“Not without a crowbar,” Ralph said.
Deese glanced at Cox. “What?”
“That was awful,” Cox said.
“Really, it was pretty good,” Deese said with his yellow grin. “I had to whack her a time or two to get her started, but after that it was okay.”
“Aw, Jesus,” Cox said, looking away from him. They could hear Harrelson sobbing again from the bedroom.
Deese said, “About tomorrow. Here’s what we’re gonna do.”
“Whatever it is, it won’t work,” Cole said. “It’s about ten to one that Harrelson’s called the cops. You can’t never do the money exchange and get away with it. What we really need to do is get out of here, get north. We could go up to Seattle or Portland, I’d school you in the home invasion business, we could pick up a couple million in a few months.”
“You know why people don’t get away with the money?” Deese asked. “Because they don’t do the exchange in Vegas.”
He turned to Ralph. “Remember that time I came out here and called you and you said you’d busted out at the MGM and were temporarily homeless? You were living down below?”
Ralph smiled. “Really? That’s how you’re gonna do it?” And a second later: “The motorcycle and the truck! You’re smarter than you look.”
* * *
—
DEESE LAID OUT his plan and, when he finished, said, “That’s why we had to come up to see old Ralph here. The truck and the bike. Cole drives the truck up and back, no reason