“That old TV is crap! It’s not even a flat screen!”
“Well, too bad. I’m doin’ the best I can. Just deal with it, Vonda.” Ralph walked out and slammed the door behind him.
As he drove his old pickup into town, he dragged on a cigarette to calm his nerves. Stella was expecting him at eleven for a delivery run, and she wouldn’t stand for any slipups. He didn’t want to risk riling her and getting fired. The money was too good for that.
Ralph thought about how he had stashed away $7,000 in a secret bank account. It was enough to buy a half-decent used truck. But if he showed up with it at home, Vonda would know he’d been holding out on her, and all hell would break loose. She might even be mad enough to phone her daddy and tell him about her husband’s part-time job.
For now, he’d be smart just to leave the money in the bank and keep adding to it. He’d be damned if he was going to be stuck with whiny Vonda and a bawling brat for the rest of his life. When the time came to split, he could give her a little money, take the rest, and leave Blanco County for a new start somewhere. Vonda would be okay. Once her folks got a look at the kid, it would be just like in the movies. They’d take her back for sure.
Stella was just closing up when he pulled into the parking lot of the Blue Coyote. He went in the back way, as the last customers were leaving. Angie, the blond young waitress, was just wiping off the tables. She gave him a tired smile, and he knew he’d be welcome in her room when he finished his run. He’d have to give her some money, of course. But what the hell, Stella always paid him in cash, and he’d have plenty to spare.
With the front door locked, and Angie on her way upstairs, Stella ushered him down the hall to the storage room that doubled as her office. She looked tired, but then she always did, after a night of tending bar on her feet. Her lipstick was gone, and her black eyeliner had smudged into the creases around her eyes. His mother would be about her age, if she hadn’t died of breast cancer, Ralph thought. But his mother had been a churchgoing woman, nothing like Stella.
“You were Lute Fletcher’s friend, weren’t you, Ralph?” The question came out of nowhere.
“Can’t say we were real good friends. We worked together for the Tylers, and I gave him a few rides to town before he quit the ranch. Never saw much of him after that.”
“You know what happened to him, don’t you?”
“I know he’s dead. Shot by that crooked sheriff.”
“I had nothing to do with his getting shot,” Stella said. “But Lute was in trouble before it happened. He got greedy. I gave him my trust, and he tried to steal from me. As for his sister, Marie—” She broke off, as if she’d tasted something bitter. “Did you know her? Now, that woman was a real she-devil.”
“I never met Lute’s sister,” Ralph said, feeling a tad nervous. “But I’m not like Lute, ma’am. All I want is to earn whatever you pay me.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear.” She gave him a feline smile. “I’ve got plans for you—plans that involve a lot more money than you’re making now. But first you need to show me I can count on you. Understand?”
Ralph’s mouth had gone dry. He nodded.
“Good. We’ll talk more later. For now, here’s your package. Instructions are in the bag. Now get going.”
Ten minutes later, Ralph was on the road, with two packets of cocaine on the seat beside him, hidden under a wrapped cheeseburger in a take-out bag from the Burger Shack. By now he knew the drill. Drive to an isolated spot on Blanco County’s network of backroads. Wait for the customer to show up, turn over the package, collect the cash, and take it back to the Blue Coyote for Stella. After she’d given him his cut, he’d be free to go.
He never asked who the customers were, never even looked at their faces, if he could help it. Most of them, he suspected, were local users or small-time dealers who worked nearby cities like Lubbock and Wichita Falls. The less he knew about them, the better.