The Lonely Polygamist Part 28

Dear Trish,Now that I've put new brackets on the gutters at the back of the house, I don't think there's anything left to fix, which is a shame, because now I don't really have a good excuse to stop by anymore. I've enjoyed getting to know you and Faye (not to mention the ever-present Lance/Rusty). It's been a long time since I felt so welcome, so comfortable around anybody. I know that you're married, and it's probably not a good idea for me to be stopping by anymore, but if you ever need anything, if something breaks or goes bad, please let me know and I'd be happy to pay a visit. Or, if you'd ever like to discuss romance novels or watch something burn to the ground, I'm your man! You and I may have more in common than you realize. But I'll leave it up to you. I'd love to have you stop by my place sometime (see below), but if not, thank you for the good meals and good conversation. Knowing you, even for such a little while, has brightened my life.Yours, June Though the note had obviously been composed to affect a casual tone, each individual stroke of each individual letter seemed to have been designed with a jeweler's precision. The paper was heavy bond, creamy and thick, and every word, letter and line lay exactly equidistant from the one adjoining, as though the whole thing had been produced according to strict industrial standards, using protractors and slide rules. On the bottom half of the page was a map that depicted the route from her house to his, with to-scale buildings, roads and landmarks, along with comprehensive directions, penned in perfect miniature script, at every juncture or bend in the road.

The gentle sincerity of the words, the care with which they had been put on the page-the hope hope in them-constricted her chest with a sudden ache. She read the note twice more, folded the thick paper, and, feeling not a little self-consciously like a love-crossed heroine in a romance novel, touched it to her cheek. in them-constricted her chest with a sudden ache. She read the note twice more, folded the thick paper, and, feeling not a little self-consciously like a love-crossed heroine in a romance novel, touched it to her cheek.

32.

JEALOUS IS THE RAGE OF MAN

THE CALL CAME JUST BEFORE BEDTIME. HE TOOK IT ON THE KITCHEN phone and, because he had some idea about who it might be, he wrapped the long cord around his forearm several times with the grim determination of someone about to rappel into a deep gorge, stepped into the walk-in pantry, and shut the door behind him. phone and, because he had some idea about who it might be, he wrapped the long cord around his forearm several times with the grim determination of someone about to rappel into a deep gorge, stepped into the walk-in pantry, and shut the door behind him.

"You read the Bible, Brother Richards?" Ted Leo said.

"h.e.l.lo?" Golden said. "Who is this?"

"Please, this act you're putting on won't get you nowhere. Now I asked you a question. You ever read the Bible?"

Golden swallowed, said, "Parts."

"Parts? Well, that's nice. Parts. Maybe that explains something. Maybe you just haven't read the right parts parts, that's why you've gone and f.u.c.ked up so bad. Me, I've been spending a little time with the Good Book here, trying to get my head straight. You know what parts I've been reading?"

"I wouldn't have any idea-"

"How 'bout I recite a couple of these parts for you?"

"Mr. Leo-"

Ted Leo cleared his throat. "Here's a part: Proverbs six twenty-nine. 'So he that goeth in to his neighbour's wife; whosoever touches her shall not be innocent.' We can probably a.s.sume that's one of the parts you missed along the way, right? And you probably skipped the one comes just after, 'But whoso committeth adultery with a woman lacketh understanding; he that doeth it destroyeth his own soul. A wound and dishonour shall he get; and his reproach shall not be wiped away. For jealous is the rage of a man: therefore he will not spare in the day of vengeance.'" Breathing heavily through his nose, Ted Leo hummed a little tune of outrage. "Which means, Brother Richards, that you are in for a world of very bad things."

In the darkness of the pantry, Golden searched the dimly glinting rows of canned peaches and bottled beets for some excuse or threat or apology to make this go away. He considered the irony of having a brothel owner reading biblical pa.s.sages in condemnation of adultery, but decided it wouldn't be in his interest to comment.

"You still there? I hope so, because this is something you'll want to hear. This morning I was all ready to leave the vengeance part up to the Almighty, turn the other cheek, like the Bible says. I let you go. I let you deal with your own soul. But now my wife has disappeared, along with money from my safe, and a reasonable person can only come to the conclusion that you are responsible. Stealing, Brother Richards. Apparently, that's another part of G.o.d's word you need to catch up on."

"I haven't stolen anything, Mr. Leo," Golden said, his throat so tight he had to force the words out. "I'm sorry that I was...inappropriate with your wife, but there was no adultery and no stealing. No stealing and no adultery, that's for certain." with your wife, but there was no adultery and no stealing. No stealing and no adultery, that's for certain."

"You miss the parts about lying too, Mr. Richards? You ever heard heard of the Ten Commandments? I'm starting to think you haven't read the book at all, that's what I'm beginning to think." of the Ten Commandments? I'm starting to think you haven't read the book at all, that's what I'm beginning to think."

"Please, just tell me what you want me to do."

"Well, that couldn't be more simple. I want you to return what's mine, and I want you to do it in person, so you can apologize to me face to face, for real this time. By four o'clock tomorrow afternoon. If that doesn't happen, let's just say you'll be sorry."

"I don't have anything to return to you, Mr. Leo, I don't know anything, I don't have anything."

"And when you come," Ted Leo said, as if Golden hadn't spoken, "bring your Bible along, maybe we'll sit down and underline some pa.s.sages together."

BACK INTO THE WATER Earlier that afternoon, when Huila had stepped out of the Airstream and tried to hug him, did he return her embrace with a lover's pa.s.sion and whisper into her ear that he was so happy to see her, that he would protect her, that everything would be all right? Not hardly. When she put out her arms, ready to collapse into him, he took a step back and said, "I have fleas."

This confused her, of course, but there was no time to explain. They were s.h.i.+elded from view of Old House, but he could already hear the whap whap of the screen door and the voices of children come out to meet him. He hustled her back into the Airstream and jumped back into his pickup. Alvin was on the porch holding up a homemade contraption made of paper and sticks that might have been a kite, and the First Twins were already running across the lawn to ask for money or lodge a complaint. He cranked the ignition, threw the transmission into reverse, and gunned the engine. "Forgot something!" he called, the pickup and the rattling trailer hurtling backward through a cloud of dust. "Be right back!" of the screen door and the voices of children come out to meet him. He hustled her back into the Airstream and jumped back into his pickup. Alvin was on the porch holding up a homemade contraption made of paper and sticks that might have been a kite, and the First Twins were already running across the lawn to ask for money or lodge a complaint. He cranked the ignition, threw the transmission into reverse, and gunned the engine. "Forgot something!" he called, the pickup and the rattling trailer hurtling backward through a cloud of dust. "Be right back!"

At considerable speed he drove east along Sand Creek Road until he realized he didn't know where he was going. He pulled off next to the river and killed the engine. He got out of the pickup and at a safe distance regarded the Airstream warily. Nothing moved or s.h.i.+fted or made a noise. Had he just hallucinated Huila coming out of the trailer? In his depleted state, it wasn't something he could rule out entirely. He waited for a few seconds, took a breath, yanked open the door.

There she was, sitting on the floor, her arms clasped around her knees, head down. She did not look up for a moment, and when she did he could see that her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot and wet.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know what to do!"

"No," he said. "It's okay." He climbed into the trailer and sat on the floor in front of her. He put his hand out and she took it. He said, "Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head. When she was angry or excited, her English quickly went south and she tended to make up the difference with hand gestures and sound effects. "No. But he break everything. Window! Television! Kis.h.!.+ Bwkis.h.!.+ Kis.h.!.+ Bwkis.h.!.+ Crazy. Shouting,"-here she threw her arms around her head, miming a wild throwing motion and general craziness-"breaking, throwing everything, Crazy. Shouting,"-here she threw her arms around her head, miming a wild throwing motion and general craziness-"breaking, throwing everything, loco, loco loco, loco."

Golden nodded. "He is definitely not real happy."

She looked up at him. "He hurt you you?"

"No," Golden said, but his hand immediately went to the twin knots at the back of his head. "A little."

"I'm sorry," she said plaintively, "I'm sorry." She took his hand and pressed it to her lips.

He said, "He didn't kill me, that's a plus."

She laughed and scooted closer to him, kissed his wrist and forearm, pulled herself even closer, swinging her legs over his so that she was straddling his waist. She s.h.i.+vered and put her cheek against his chest. He didn't bother to mention the fleas again-at this point they didn't seem all that relevant, even though it felt like they had successfully established an outpost in one of his armpits and were making a meal out of the tender flesh around his belly b.u.t.ton. He put his nose into Huila's hair and inhaled deeply.

He said, "What are we going to do?"

She pushed back from his chest and leaned back so she could look him fully in the face. "Maybe..." she said, her eyes growing wide, "maybe we go away. We have a car. We have a house"-she gestured grandly at their present accommodations-"and I have money." Here she patted the leather bag at her hip. "Everything we need. No more bad things. We go away to be happy."

During all the time they had spent talking about their lives, about their respective sadnesses and frustrations and their desire for escape, this was a subject they had never quite breached-the question of running away together. For most affairs, this eventually becomes the most fundamental of questions, the only one that matters: Do we love each other more than the lives we already have? Do we love each other more than the lives we already have? It is the question that hovers in the background of every secret phone call, flavors every tryst with the heady possibilities of apocalypse and renewal; and it is the answer to that question, or the lack thereof, that so often dooms an affair to failure. But Golden and Huila had been taking their sweet time working up to it, just as they had in every other aspect of their relations.h.i.+p; it is a generally accepted rule of modern affair-making that you must have s.e.x once or twice before addressing the question of whether or not you will run away together. But now the process had been speeded up for them considerably, and Golden, less than two hours after acknowledging to himself and to his G.o.d the errors of his way, after rededicating himself to his family and his way of life, and after offering his deepest, most humble grat.i.tude to the Almighty for rescuing him from the belly of the whale, was seriously considering wading right back into the water. It is the question that hovers in the background of every secret phone call, flavors every tryst with the heady possibilities of apocalypse and renewal; and it is the answer to that question, or the lack thereof, that so often dooms an affair to failure. But Golden and Huila had been taking their sweet time working up to it, just as they had in every other aspect of their relations.h.i.+p; it is a generally accepted rule of modern affair-making that you must have s.e.x once or twice before addressing the question of whether or not you will run away together. But now the process had been speeded up for them considerably, and Golden, less than two hours after acknowledging to himself and to his G.o.d the errors of his way, after rededicating himself to his family and his way of life, and after offering his deepest, most humble grat.i.tude to the Almighty for rescuing him from the belly of the whale, was seriously considering wading right back into the water.

Maybe, he thought, they should have s.e.x right here, right now, and then they could move on without delay to the question of running away together.

She looked up at him, waiting, smiling, hoping. Even with her bloodshot eyes, her lower lip swollen and a little raw from nervous biting, he found her beautiful. How could he say no to her?

He paused. He said, "I think it's something we should probably think about."

The smile didn't leave her face, but some of the hope did. She looked around. "Think? How much time do we have to think? Where are we going to think? Right here?" A flea launched itself from the tip of his ear-ping!-and landed on the sleeve of her dress; luckily, she was too focused on him to notice. He reached out as if to place an affectionate hand on her shoulder and flicked it away with his finger. "No, I have an idea. I think I know where you can stay."

And so, with her tucked safely in the Airstream, he drove her the ten miles to Mexican Town.

THE TODD FREEBONE EPISODE The following day he went about his business as if nothing were out of the ordinary. He checked in at the office, looked over some bid possibilities, had lunch with Nola, drove to St. George to visit Rose, who had very little to say to him except that she was feeling better and would be home soon. She did look a little better than last week, but not by much: her hair needed was.h.i.+ng, the skin of her face and hands had gone strangely translucent, her eyes clouded with a wet fog. And this horrible place they had her in, with its damp cinder-block walls and strange odors and its corridors full of people who could have moonlighted as extras in a zombie film. It was no consolation to her or anybody else that this was the best he could afford.

Just before he left he told her, for some reason, that he loved her. He didn't know why he said it; it was something he had learned, from painful experience, never to voice out loud to any of the wives; as with everything else, they remembered, they compared, they kept score.

"Rose," he had said, getting up to leave, "you know I love you." And she had looked up at him and burst into tears.

When four o'clock came he was back at Old House, pretending to fix the sash on one of the upstairs windows. He was caught in a state of suspended animation, sc.r.a.ping the hard paint of the sash over and over until he was digging into bare wood, paying no attention to what he was doing, and it took so long in coming he wondered if he'd missed it, and then there it was: four chimes ringing throughout the house. He imagined Ted Leo at the p.u.s.s.yCat behind his desk or at the bar, himself watching the clock, getting angrier and angrier, thinking of all kinds of ways he was going to make Golden Richards sorry.

Yesterday, when he left Huila with Nestor, he'd told her he would come up with a plan, he would figure something out; he needed time to think, then he would know what to do. But he quickly realized there was little thinking to be done, and nothing for him to do. He could not take Huila back to Ted Leo; she was an adult who could come and go as she pleased. And running away-it was a wonderful thought in the abstract but the reality of it was that he did not think he had the will or the courage for it. What else was there? Telling the cops? Explaining everything to Beverly and begging for her protection? No, as far as he could figure there was nothing left to do but see what Ted Leo had in store for him.

So that's what he did the rest of the day: worry. He worried cleaning out the wood stove and going over the budget with Beverly after dinner and watching Helaman run the mile relay at a district tournament in Hurricane. Often, his worry seemed to have no content or substance; he idly scratched his flea bites and stared into the middle distance, his head full of choppy static, until somebody or something commanded his immediate attention. When menacing thoughts did intrude, he would banish them by taking up his habitual chant-EmNephiHelamanNaomi JosephinePaulineNovella ParleyGaleSybilDeeanne AlvinRustyCliftonHerschel GloryMartinBooWayne TeagueFayeLouise FigNew-tonDarlingSariah Jame-oFerrisPet-until he could get through the list without making a mistake.

That night, he lay in Beverly's bed and did his best not to toss or roll over, which would set the old bedsprings to ringing. Beverly, of course, knew something was up, but she had never been the kind to jump in and start asking questions; she watched, she waited, she gathered her evidence, and when the time was right, she pounced. It seemed like hours until her breathing evened out and he was able to, with agonizing care and a cramp in his hamstring, roll off the bed and creep out of the room with all the stealth a man of his size could muster. In his red plaid pajamas and flopping work boots, he took a look outside, checked the locks on every door and drove out to Trish's duplex and then over to Big House, where he scanned the landscape for anything out of the ordinary. It was a windy night, the trees full of new leaves rattling on their branches. Down the road in front of the Pettigrews' sat an old blue Dodge he'd never seen before, but as he pa.s.sed he could see it was a couple, maybe high schoolers, making out energetically in the front seat. He had told Nola to be sure to lock the place up tight, had made up some story about a rash of burglaries in the valley, but he found the front door unlocked and most of the windows open.

After securing the house, he sat in the lounge chair in the front room and gave in to another hour of stupefied worrying until sleep, which he'd seen precious little of in the past three days, pressed down on the top of his head like a huge, benevolent hand. He slept for four hours, his heavy chin pressing a divot into the flesh of his chest. The house woke, the kids readying themselves for school, Nola banging pans in the kitchen, a prolonged skirmish breaking out over what kind of sandwiches were going into today's bag lunches, and Golden did not wake. This was not out of the ordinary; the father of the house was known for prowling around at night and landing in armchairs or love seats or behind the wheel of his idling pickup, dead to the world. The phone rang, the kids tromped past him on their way to catch the bus, sometimes slamming the door behind them, and still he did not stir. Only when the house went completely quiet, a tensed hush that found its way into his dreams, did he startle himself awake, grabbing at the arms of the chair and saying, "Not the fingernails!"

He looked around in a panic before he remembered where he was. He listened, heard nothing. He slumped back into the chair and closed his eyes. Now he could hear something: water running through the pipes upstairs. Probably Nola, known to take epic showers that drained the water heaters and could last the better part of an afternoon. Underneath that sound he heard m.u.f.fled, barely audible voices, the voice of a child and the voice, if he was not mistaken, of a man.

He felt a chill, like ice water trickling down the back of his neck. He got up and looked out the window. There, in the middle of the front lawn, not thirty feet away, sat the Barge. The Barge was facing away from the house, toward the road, but from this vantage point he could see there were two people sitting on it. A man with a tangle of bleached hair, and three-year-old Pet, whose spiky blond pigtails were all Golden could see of her over the back of the couch. He had to pause a moment to wonder if he was still asleep and dreaming, and then came to the oddly reasonable conclusion that it didn't matter. He took a breath and did not let it out again until he was standing in front of the Barge, staring at the strange man sitting on the couch with his daughter.

They were both licking lollipops, the kind of enormous, flapjack-sized multicolored lollipops found only in specialty candy stores and s.h.i.+rley Temple movies.

"Daddy!" cried a deliriously happy Pet. She stared at her lollipop in wonder, and then back up at Golden, waiting for his take on this amazing turn of events. He s.n.a.t.c.hed her up in his arms and took two steps back. The man smiled amiably and held up his own lollipop in salute. "Todd Freebone," he said. "At your service."

"What are you doing?" Golden breathed.

"Just sitting here, man. Enjoying the suns.h.i.+ne with this nice little girl. Right, little girl?"

Golden turned his whole body so this long-haired creep couldn't even look look at his daughter. "I want you to tell me who you are." at his daughter. "I want you to tell me who you are."

"Didn't I already tell you that?" Todd Freebone looked confused for a moment. "Name's Todd Freebone." He held out his hand for a shake and Golden took another step back. Todd Freebone did not appear in the least offended by this rebuke. He took his time lighting a cigarette with an old bra.s.s Zippo.

Now that he was getting a good look at the man, Golden thought he recognized him as one of Ted Leo's lackeys who worked in various capacities around the p.u.s.s.yCat Manor. He wore a necklace of tiny white sh.e.l.ls and a threadbare T-s.h.i.+rt with a multicolored sunset silk-screened on its front, and looked more like a surfer gone to seed than the usual overweight goombah Ted Leo tended to employ.

Todd Freebone said, "Mr. Ted Leo asked me to return your property to you." He patted the Barge, producing a small burst of dust. "And so"-he coughed, waving his hand-"I think you know where we're at here. You've got your couch, and Mr. Leo wants what's his. An exchange, that's what we should call this."

"I don't have anything," Golden said.

"Then you know where to find it," Todd said.

"No," Golden said. "I don't know anything."

"Well, f.u.c.k," Todd said, looking genuinely disappointed. He considered his lollipop, licked it, grimaced, then took a drag off his cigarette. "That's really too bad. I was hoping I could go home today and never have to see this hillbilly backwater again. Seriously, man. I didn't know there were still places like this left."

Golden looked around. It seemed the Barge, with Todd Freebone on board, had fallen out of the big blue desert sky; except for Golden's work truck and Nola's Country Squire station wagon, there were no other vehicles in sight. Golden turned in place, scanning the surrounding geography, until he spotted the back end of a blue pickup parked behind a clump of willows on the little two-track that followed the fence along the Pettigrews' alfalfa field.

"You stay right here," Golden told Todd. "You go anywhere near my house, I'm calling the cops."

Todd threw up his hands. "Oh s.h.i.+t, the cops! Please, man, take your time. I'll wait right here."

Golden started to set Pet down but had second thoughts and hefted her up onto his shoulder like a sack of corn. He crossed the expanse of gra.s.s and weeds, stepped over the old, leaning crosswire fence, and came up behind the pickup. Nelson sat behind the wheel staring straight ahead, looking sheepish. Even when Golden stuck his head in the driver's-side window and asked what was going on, Nelson would not look over.

"I ain't involved with this s.h.i.+t," he said. "I'm just the driver."

"You're not involved? You drove my couch all the way out here, put it out on my lawn, for some reason, and set loose this creep on my children?"

"Hey," Nelson said, turning to Golden. "I do what I'm told. Ted Leo sends his messages, you know, and now there's a couch on your lawn. This guy, this is how he takes care of his part of things, I guess. You think I'm enjoying myself? And that was one heavy heavy motherf.u.c.king couch, if you want to know." motherf.u.c.king couch, if you want to know."

Golden positioned Pet in the open window, so Nelson could get a good look at her. Cute as a bug's ear, she was going at her lollipop with such gusto it appeared she was licking it with her entire face. "How would you like it if you came out of your house one morning and found some creep talking up that sweet little daughter of yours?"

"Wouldn't." Nelson gave Pet a shy smile and then turned his gaze quickly back to the winds.h.i.+eld. "But then I wouldn't go running off with the boss man's wife, neither."

Even though he knew it would do no good, Golden swore to Nelson on his life that he didn't run off with Huila, that he had no idea where she was, that this was all an unfortunate misunderstanding.

Nelson shrugged. "Don't matter to me. But I was you, I'd tell Ted Leo what he wants to know. Then we can all be done with this. I don't need this any more'n you."

Just then came the whap whap of the front screen door, a sound that nearly stopped Golden's heart. He quickly ascertained that Todd Freebone was still safely on the Barge where he'd left him, and had to peer through a willow thicket to see who'd come out on the porch. It was Ferris, decked out in one of his customary outfits: sweater, jacket, ski hat, nothing below the waist. Staring intently at the huge anomaly on the lawn, he subtly rolled his naked hips counterclockwise as if testing the air. Todd had turned around and was now waving his giant lollipop in Ferris' direction and saying something Golden couldn't hear. of the front screen door, a sound that nearly stopped Golden's heart. He quickly ascertained that Todd Freebone was still safely on the Barge where he'd left him, and had to peer through a willow thicket to see who'd come out on the porch. It was Ferris, decked out in one of his customary outfits: sweater, jacket, ski hat, nothing below the waist. Staring intently at the huge anomaly on the lawn, he subtly rolled his naked hips counterclockwise as if testing the air. Todd had turned around and was now waving his giant lollipop in Ferris' direction and saying something Golden couldn't hear.

Golden reached into the back of Nelson's pickup, grabbed the first thing at hand-a rusted tire iron-and took off at a lope. Once he climbed over the fence he put Pet down and sent her running for the house. When Todd turned to see the giant man in pajamas bearing down on him armed with some kind of rusty implement, he stood up, the casual smile draining slowly from his face.

"Oh s.h.i.+t!" he chirped. He started in the direction of the house, thought better of it, did a little juke, and, already grinning again, headed down the driveway. He tossed the lollipop over his shoulder, either in an attempt to create a diversion or to lighten his load. Golden, a reluctant sprinter in the first place and already getting winded, pursued Todd down the gravel drive but was losing ground by the step. Letting out a low, Cro-Magnon groan he heaved the tire iron at Todd's retreating form, missing by a good thirty feet, the iron gouging a divot into the hard-packed sand.

"Whoa-ho!" cried Todd.

"And don't ever come back here!" Golden shouted.

"Calm down, man!" Todd called from a safe spot on the other side of the county road. "Violence ain't the answer!"

Golden bent down as if to pick up a rock, which sent Todd back-pedaling into a thicket of wild rosebushes. Seizing the moment, Ferris dashed in front of Golden and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the discarded lollipop from the gravelly area at the edge of the lawn.

"Hey!" Golden shouted, but Ferris was already headed back to the house, his pale little bottom flas.h.i.+ng like a silver coin in the sun. In the heat of the moment, Golden had not considered what might happen if one or, even worse, two two of the kids entered the house in possession of an industrial-sized lollipop. And there it was: the shouting and screaming had already started. of the kids entered the house in possession of an industrial-sized lollipop. And there it was: the shouting and screaming had already started.

Stationed at the end of the driveway near the mailbox, Golden stood watch while Nelson picked up Todd. As they drove past, Todd grinned widely from the pa.s.senger-side window, and held up a nickel-plated pistol against his chest in a way that said, Let this be our little secret. Let this be our little secret.

"Bye-bye, man!" he called as they pulled away. "By the way, love love your jammies!" your jammies!"

LIES UPON LIES He had spent a good portion of the last two days telling lies: lies about why the job in Nevada had ended early and suddenly; lies about the scratches and contusions on his hands and forehead; lies about why the Barge had suddenly appeared on the Big House lawn; lies about why the strange man who appeared with it had been handing out candy to the children before being summarily chased off the property. During his years in the church Golden had noticed that most of the polygamists he had come to know were honest, upright men. He had always believed this was because they lived according to their convictions, but now he was starting to suspect it was something else entirely: being a dishonest polygamist was an exceptionally difficult trick to pull off. If you told a lie to one wife, you were going to have to repeat it to all of them. And they all asked questions, of course, each of which had to be answered consistently and with the correct details in the correct order because you could be darn sure that afterward, like a bunch of dogged television police detectives investigating a capital murder case, they would get together and compare notes. It didn't take long to come to the conclusion that telling the truth-painful and inconvenient as it might be-was the only sensible option.

Which made Golden wonder: How had he managed to last this long? After all the lies of the past few days (not to mention the last year), he was now forced to tie them all together with one last (he hoped, he hoped) big one, which went something like this: Golden had not received the full sum he had been promised at this stage of the project and had threatened to shut down all work until he received payment, which ended up getting him fired. The Barge and the creep with the candy were nothing more than an attempt to threaten and intimidate him.

"These Nevada guys," Golden had already said more than once, chuckling with false humor, "they all think they're in the Mafia or something."

"Why are they threatening you?" Nola had asked. "Aren't you the one who hasn't been paid? Aren't you the one who should be threatening them them?"

And so Golden had to, on the spot, create a new subplot to this story, one more lie, about how the man who'd hired him was worrying about getting sued, so he had lowered himself to threatening Golden and his family. This part of the story did not seem as likely, but there was no going back now-he would have to stick with it to the end.

"You going to call the police?" Nola said.

"Already have!" Golden lied, now with a certain doomed enthusiasm. "Going into town today to talk to Sheriff Fontana about this."

It was the fleas, of all things, that had saved him-temporarily, at least. When Beverly and Nola had discovered the little pests setting up shop in their beds and making meals of several of the children, he and his increasingly desperate explanations became, for the moment, an afterthought; he ducked out and drove to Mexican Town. When he pulled up onto the dead front lawn of the Old Lady, Nestor came out to greet him. Instead of hailing him with arms wide open and a loud Jefe! Jefe! he curtly motioned for Golden to drive around back and park next to the old bread delivery truck that was occasionally pressed into service as a tour bus. he curtly motioned for Golden to drive around back and park next to the old bread delivery truck that was occasionally pressed into service as a tour bus.

At this point Nestor gave Golden the customary, though somewhat subdued, embrace. Holding him by the arms, he said, "You look worse than before, Jefe, if such a thing is possible. Come in, I will make you some tea."

Putting a pot on the stove to boil, he explained that Huila was in one of the upstairs rooms sleeping, that she wasn't feeling well.