Mo & Curio- the L.A. Cochon du Lait pt 5

“Time to get a bite to eat, Antoine.”  Moses toweled himself dry after a refreshing few minutes under a solar-heated shower.  “The boss is on his way and he's buying.  What you in the mood for?  Anything sound good?  A bratwurst perhaps?  Maybe a chicken on a stick?”

         Antoine lifted his head up, tears streaming down his face.  He was famished but his appetite was whetted from the fresh sodomizing.  He was still swinging in the rope harness front-side down and had been all night while Moses stretched out and snored in the Bronco.  All night, agony and the sounds of creatures rustling in the night kept him awake.  He could have sworn he caught a glimpse of something running off with his severed leg in the woods.

His eyes watered as he watched Moses’ dick flap from side-to-side as he shimmied the towel across his back.  There had been a great many women, willing and not so willing in Antoine's life.  Never before had he considered what it must have felt like on the receiving end of anal sex.  It would not be recalled kindly.

         “Whatever I say, you probably won't bring and piss in it anyway.  Fuck you, I'll starve.”          

         “Well, put it to you this way.  You may as well eat.  You won't live long enough to starve to death.”  Moses shrugged as he jumped up and down into his pants a bit.  “The only reason you ain't dead yet is the boss wants to say hello personally.”  He nodded at the man’s violated waist. “It ain’t like anything you eat will have nearly as big a problem moving on out as anything you drink now will it?”

         “Fuck you, man.” Blood was all sprinkled all over the ground beneath him as the daylight made the area visible.  While he chuckled and bounced into Antoine’s anus, Moses carved the word Curio down the man’s back with his knife.

         “Why you ask, would the boss like to see you?”

         “I don’t care.” 

         “Because.  A, you killed a moneymaker of his.  B, the cops will be looking into the death of that moneymaker which eventually will make them look at him and cost him more money in lost revenues like paying off both the cops and the reporters.  And D, you and the boys tried to have your fun with Curio.”  Moses rolled up the towel and snapped Dyer's bare ass loudly with it.  “For shame, asshole.  Tapping the help is also a no-no of his.” 

He walked toward the Ford.  “You know, had you just killed us defending yourselves, he would have understood.  Still woulda’ killt y’all, mind you,” Moses put on a Longhorns t-shirt, “But businesslike, ya’ know?”  He jumped on the Bronco's hood and slipped on socks and Justin boots as he nonchalantly spoke.  “He may be a crook but in a perverse way he's old fashioned about violating women. A girl tells him no, he just starts counting out hundreds until he’s reached a deal with her and then he has his fun.  She’s happy, he’s happy.  But, if she tells him no way, no how, he turns to the next one in line.  ‘Uninvited dicks are a thing to be avoided,’ he likes to say sometimes.  You agree now, dontcha?”  He cackled as Dyer's eyes aimed at the ground.

         “You a faggot, man.  You better be glad we didn't punk you out first before we dropped it to that bitch of yours.”

           “Always the need to be the alpha dick.  I’m no faggot.  But really bro, you shoulda’ just shot us in the head and lit the place up and moved elsewhere.  I gotta’ admit, I fumbled the punt a-lettin' y'all get the drop on me.  Getting lax in my old age, I guess.  It was a good play.  But, you didn't follow up.  What the hell did you think when you see us armed as we were and trying to get in on you in the dark?  Did you think, oh shit, kill ‘em and go?  Nope.  You think, hey!  Lookee here!  Pussy wrapped in a bow like a birthday gift!  Ignorance got you killed, Antoine.  It shoulda’ got me killed, but call me lucky.  I found three dumb niggers dumber than my dumb white ass.”

           Dyer said nothing.  The truth stung him as bad as the gunshots.

           “Well, I'm hitting BJ's for pizza.  Be back in a while.  Just hang loose til we get back okay?”  Moses winked at him and in a minute, Antoine Dyer was hanging naked, raped, shot twice, tased and beaten from a rope truss in the middle of nowhere, awaiting even worse. 

           The mosquitoes and deer flies hounded him until Moses returned.  As bad as those bites were, it was the yellow jackets that constantly lighted upon his open wounds to have dinner that bothered him the most.



         Bertrand Fontenot and his brother Pete pulled his Cadillac STS in front of room 145 of the Downtown Inn Dubois in Pineville, just before noon, three days after the botched hit.

         The pair favored each other in the face but only there.  Pete got out from the driver's seat first.  Easily upwards of three-twenty, he was a massive presence as soon as he shut the door and surveyed the scene for anyone who may have managed to follow them from Lake Charles to the hotel.  He was raely without a three-piece suit and sunglasses.  Today he wore a navy blue pinstripe with a .357 Desert Eagle snugly holstered under a flabby arm.  He leaned against the car door and lit a Parliament, nodding abruptly at the momentary parting of the curtain in room 145.

           Satisfied after a few minutes that there were no unmarked work vans or sedans with a pair of shadowy figures trying to slouch behind the dash, he tapped on the window and Grizzly Fontenot hobbled from his seat.

           Bertrand slowly stood, helped up by a long pull of a cane he used until he got to his feet.  He was a war amputee. Walking was a thing he accomplished with a noticeably stiff limp fairly well.  Getting out of cars was another thing entirely.

           Grizzly wore a white LSU polo shirt and matching purple LSU parachute pants.  He laid a tweed fedora with a purple and gold band to his balding scalp and tossed the cane back into the car as he got his weight settled on the artificial leg strapped to his right knee.  He was fit for his age with sharp eyes sitting on a thin nose that anchored a neatly trimmed beard that was more pepper than salt even as he sailed toward fifty.  He dyed his hair to maintain the stark back locks that flowed behind him as the wind swirled around the horseshoe bend of the motel.

           “Alrighty brother Pete, let's pay our respects to the missus.”

           Pete lumbered around the front of the car to flank his brother as they walked up to the door, eyes steadily sweeping the other windows and parked cars. 

Betty opened the door with a warm, “Hey Sugar!” and a kiss on his cheek before they knocked.  The Fontenots walked in and the door closed.

         “My, you looking good, Grizzly!”  Betty hugged his neck as she pulled the door shut.  “Hey, Teddy Bear!”  She hugged Pete as well.  Theo stood up from the mini-couch and tossed the NY Times crossword puzzle he nearly had licked aside.  He shook Grizzly's hand and slapped him softly on the back.

           “Good to see you, Bertie.  Pete.”  He shook Pete's mitt.

         Curio felt her heart jump into her throat unexpectedly.  Actually being in a room with the Fontenots was not a very common occurrence.  And never without Moses beside her to calm her nerves.  Sitting up half-clothed in a bed with four veritable strangers was disarming enough under the best of circumstances.  She rarely had a moment where she did not feel she could control a room, on the clock or otherwise.  Thus, it was all that much more frightening when she considered these were people who made other people like her disappear. 

Even Theo and Betty being Grizzly's medics was not much of a comfort.  For two days, she wondered what happened to those whom Theo had not been able to save.

Curio suddenly felt like a child again.  A child who spilled the milk and stood there blubbering and awaiting a scolding by someone who wasn’t family.

         “So here's my lil cheri that done got hersef all worked over.”  Grizzly walked over to her on his stiff leg.  She watched him, hoping her fear did not show through her black and watering eyes.  He winced as he got a look at her swollen face.

         “Gat'dammit!  Sorry fuckin' muddafuckas!”  He bit the back of his hand like Sonny Corleone when he saw what Carlo had done to his sister.  Pete walked over and smirked at the damage.  She was sure she saw disgust on his face but could not read it as empathetic to her.

           “Sorry, boss.  They got the drop on us...”  Grizzly shushed her with a pump of his palm.

           “We already done heard it all.  It's done and you don't worry no mo bout it, mon cheri.  It's handled.  You hurtin?  Dat gator snout dat used to be yo cute lil fart-smella’ sho nuff lookin’ like it hurt like da dickens.”

           “Oh my God!  Is my nose that bad!”  Vanity overwrought paranoia.  Her hands snapped to her face.

         “It's got Jimmy Durante beat by a horse pecker at least.”  Grizzly giggled and the others chuckled as well.

           “Dat ain't funny!”  Curio threw her best pout at them but with her face swollen, its luster waned.  “I got it in the line of duty.  Theo told me it's getting better.”

         “I'm sure it is.  I hate to-a seen worse.  But damn, you sho got a workout.  Moses tell me you had one ticklin’ yo guts a while before he got loose and got y'all out of the jam.  Dat true?  You get stuck?”

           It occurred to Curio that rape-shield laws were as passé in the Atchafalaya Mudbugs as most other laws.

           “Yeah.  Him and his boys thought a pussy train was on the menu.  I only got the engine though, not all the cars.  I locked up my legs around his waist when I heard Moses got free and dat's about when he started to beat on me tryin to git loose.”  Curio saw shock on Betty’s face but ignored it.  “I know my stuff’s good, but damn I didn’t know it was so good it could cost a man his life.”

           “Dat's good thinkin’, cheri.  Hell, it probably saved you two from what I heard.  You kept yo head.  Maybe Moses knows you bettah den I give him credit fo.”

           “I ain't chickenshit, boss.  When I heard him get loose, I was just tryin’ to keep at least one less fucker from gettin’ in the fight.  He was in me, so I kept him there best I could.  I’m just sorry we got in that jam, Mister Fontenot.  It won’t happen again, by God.  It hurts like hell but knowing Moses coulda bought it hurts worse.”

           “Griz, mon cheri.  Call me Griz.”  Pete cut his eyes over to the Delandry's.  They both just smiled at Griz's embrace of the girl.

           “You always Boss to me, Griz.”

           “Fair enough, then, whatever.  Now, Theo.  This lil girl not gonna keel over and die if da four of us go out for lunch, now is she?”

         “I don't think she would keel over if a tank hit her, Bertie.  She's tougher than VC drill instructors.  Ain't no fist gonna' break her down.”

         “I'm ok, really.”  Curio blurted.  “They got a few beers and a few pills to keep me occupied.  I think there's a Magnum P.I. Chest-fest coming on the TV, too.” She locked her fingers in front of her and stretched.  “It makes me feel all pretty in my bad places to see Tom Selleck's bare chest in his red Ferrari for an hour.  Give me four hours of that and I may do myself worse than what I got the other day.  Y'all go eat!”

         Even Pete laughed at the spunk of Curio Phelonie.

           “Okay then, baby.  We heading out over to Janohn's.  You want me to call you before we leave and bring you some take-out or is Theo and Betty’s hospital food okay in here?”

Grizzly Fontenot cocked his head in admiration at his young employee.  He could see in her eyes what Moses must have noticed when his crazy Texas ass met her and took her under his wing and under his sheets.  Even beaten and raped, she was defiant and “to the task.”  Radiant even.  He wondered if she would get his friend killed one day and sighed inside.

           Maybe...but then again, maybe he get her killed just as easily.

         “Fuck yeah.  But you don't have to call me.  I want a bigass plate of chicken livers.  And a joint.”

         Grizzly reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette case.  He flipped a rolled joint to her.

           “Halfway home, mon cheri.  I'll git you dem livahs soon.  You take care and no bustin all dem cooter stitches just because you watchin some hairy no-shirt bastard drivin’ his boss's Ferrari out in Hawaii, okay?”

           “Thanks, boss!”  She cradled the joint and nodded in sincere appreciation.  The quartet turned to leave, filing out the door behind Pete's watchful lead.

           “Hey Griz!”

         He turned to face her.  She was leaning over toward him.  Her breasts nearly hanging free from the pajama top caught him unawares.  His gape was inadvertent and she laughed at his maleness.

           “Last request.  I want my goddamned boyfriend back in the Bentley as soon as he is done playing patty-cake wherever the fuck he is.”

           “Done.”  Bertrand Fontenot gave her a solemn salute and left the room.



           Moses sat in a booth at the BJ's pizza house off MacArthur Drive in Alexandria, polishing off his third beer and the last slice of a medium Sweep the Kitchen pizza.  When he was well into a forth, he lit a Winston and let the lunch settle.  He was famished when he left the woods for town.  A few tap brews and a good sloppy pizza after a shower did wonders for his demeanor. 

Glancing at his watch, he frowned at the time he was wasting.  Grizzly was scheduled to meet him in a few hours after taking care of Theo and Betty's bill and checking on Curio.  Moses eyeballed the large coffin-like metal box in the rear of the Bronco and downed the last beer.  There was work to be done.  He checked his watch again and downed the mug.

           He drove back to Camp Livingston quickly, stopping at a gas station in Bentley and getting the last meal Antoine Dyer would ever eat.  A six-hour-old foil-wrapped sausage biscuit and a few cold potato logs.

         Antoine ceased his hoarse screaming for help when he saw the Bronco return.  Moses freed his good hand and allowed him to feed himself, chuckling every now and again as Dyer snaked his arm down to the ground to pick up a tater log before the carpenter ants found them.  The long arm swinging in the swaying harness looked like an elephant trunk.

           Chatty as always, Moses set to work digging the near-final resting place of one Antoine Dyer.  He made use of a sandy patch of Little Creek.  The sand and gravel was much easier to clear than the root-tangled loam closer to the thicket.  After a few hours of digging, he maneuvered the big aluminum box onto a four-wheeled furniture dolly and after much readjusting and cursing, got the box rolled to the pit he dug. 

Dyer's calls for an explanation of his efforts and then the eventual desperate screams for help mixed with pleas for mercy went unacknowledged as Moses toweled away beer sweat when he was done. 

When he began dragging up large quantities of deadfall and axing them into usable logs, he finally spoke.

           “Not being from around here, Antoine, you probably aren't too familiar with the local fare.  They are a very food-centered lot round here.  Back in the old days, Cajuns were as poor as anybody.  And they ain’t too big on leavin’ the manseed on top of the mound, if you catch my drift.  So they all got tons of kids to feed.  So they got to where they made these big boiling pots of stuff with whatever they had running around the house to cook up.  Big dishes to feed big families and all.  A lot of things in big pots, ya know?  You gotcha’ gumbo.  You gotcha’ crawfish boils and whatnot.  But I been up here a lotta’ times hog huntin’.  You really should be glad I didn't just leave you tied up and all a-screamin with your tripe hanging out in a pile of coals under your feet.  There's a shitload of wild hogs running around out here and a pack of them ain't scared a shit.  They woulda’ smellt your last dinner laying all bloodied up and smokin’ in your lap and believe me, they woulda come for you.”

           “You a psycho motherfucker, you know that?”  Dyer used his free arm to massage the areas more rope-burned than others.

           “Takes a lot more than mere craziness sumtimes, son.  It takes a gnarly gifted mind to think of the worser ways to take care of a body.  You see, it ain't the killin that gets you caught most times.  It's that damn body.  The corpse, you know?  You gotta’ get that body taken care of if you don't wanna’ get caught.  That's where you fucked up shotgunnin ole Stevie Lee CokeNuggets out here.  You just pulled off the road out of sight of the main road and shot him and it warnt long he got found.  Them cops only gotta’ wave a few twenties on Lower Third and you find yourself busted, dumbass.  But I guess doing twenty years in hell don't scare you none, right?”

           “We all do our time.  I seen your tats.  You done yours, too.  That where you went all faggotass?”

           “It's where I learned to be more cautious and not to drink so damned much.  And you're wrong about me being a fruit.  I didn't enjoy that little bit of personal business one bit.  But before one dies, I believe they are entitled to a few cathartic moments.  Believe me, if you had gotten as old as I, you woulda’ figured out moments of catharsis, wanted or not, just kinda’ happen with age.”

           “Fuck you.  I don't even know what that word means.”

           “And you won't.”  Moses wandered off and came back with more boughs soon.

           “I lost my train of thought a bit.  About the hogs.  You prolly never heard of a coonass microwave, huh?”

           “That like a nigger barbecue?  You saltine muthafuckas got new ways of calling us coons down here?”

           Moses laughed.  “Cajuns are called coonasses down here.  Their gene pools are kinda’ muddied up around here.  They got thirty-one flavors in their bloodlines and all.  You would be surprised to know I ain’t a bigot.  I know out west and up north, we are all just whitebread shitpokin’, KKK rallyin’ rednecks to y’all and all.  But we don't really got time for burnin’ crosses and trying to stop black men from whistling, ‘suck it dixie’ at…”  His voice imitated Foghorn Leghorn’s, “our esteemed and pure as driven snow white women.”  Moses heard a distant car motor and paused.  With a smile, he continued.  “We got other shit to do.”  He broke a sapling across an oak trunk and pointed toward the creek.

           “But a coonass microwave is that bigass box you saw me a-cussing and a-rollin’ down there to the creek and sink in that hole.  See how it works is typically they prep up a pig and slow roast him in that thing.”  Antoine’s eyes got big.  The box was easily large enough for a man.

“They like all that spicy shit, so they shoot him up with spices and all with a big needle.  Take the hog, lay the hog in there, close the lid, cover it with charcoal and light it up.  Then start drinking beer for about six or seven hours and voila!  Pig roast time.  They call it a cochon du lait down here.  It’s French for pig or white meat or frog legs or something, I dunno.  I was told something about it’s pork being a white meat but I don't speak that gay Frenchy shit.  My girl you gave the pork to might coulda’ explained it to you, but her mouth is kinda’ beat all to shit right now.”

           “What the fuck?  You even crazier than I thought!  Let me go, man.  Don't fucking eat me, main!  Please Mister!  It ain't Christian.  You a Christian right?”

           “Kinda’ on the fence about ole Jehovah, amigo.  But you can rest assured I ain't a-gonna’ eat you.  Shit, I just had some damned good pizza.  I ain’t hungry.”

         “Then what you talking about, man?  What you cooking then?”

         “You!  You dumb fuckin’ waste of life!  You rapin’ ass, dope-sellin’, murderin’ piece of shit.  I'm waiting on the boss and his bigass brother to get here.  Then we are gonna drag your shot-up ass over to that box, lock you in it, cover it in wood and kerosene and listen to you bake like a greasy fucking meatloaf in there.  It's gonna’ take a while but you may not want to know that though…”  Moses stared with dead eyes and chuckled. “Oops, guess I let the cat out early, huh?”

Panic sent the naked man attacking his bindings with his teeth, screaming through the pain of his wounds.

           “And when you are good and cooked, we're gonna crush up your skull with the maw I got in the back of the truck and we’re a-gonna’ toss it into the river right down the road from here.  And probably not too long after we cut outta here, the hogs and the vermin around here are gonna’ eat all the rest of you.”

           “You ain't doin’ shit!  You lyin’!  You full of shit!  Hey!”  Antoine screamed aloud as two men came walking up the muddy road.  One was fat.  The other was average-sized but had a pronounced limp.

         “This motherfucker's crazy!  Run and get help!  He gotta’ gun, man!  Run, fool!”  They never broke stride despite his warnings.  When the pair got close enough for him to make out their faces, Dyer realized the Boss had arrived.

         “Look here, Misters.  That man is crazy.  He said he gonna’ kill us all and burn us up and rob you!  He done turned on you!”  The fat one chuckled aloud at the charge of treason.  The smaller one folded his arms and smiled at his supposed turncoat.

         “That a fact, Moses?  You a-gonna rob me and ole Pete here?”

         “Why of course, Griz.  I’ve been waitin' here with this loudass bag of bones two days just pickin and a-grinnin ‘til I get you close enough for y’all to shoot back at me.  But goddamned if y’all forgot to be weighed down with ten dozen sacks of gold for me to steal and retire with so I guess I’ll have to keep my nefarious intentions silent just a little while longer.”

         Grizzly Fontenot nodded at the stack of wood Moses had stacked.  “How in the hell did you think you had enough wood out here to burn Pete’s big ass up?  Dat ain’t enough to smoke a coon, let alone a coonass.”

         “Figured I did, but damn.  Forgot my chainsaw, I guess.”

           “I ain't lying, man.  He’s gonna’ kill us all!” Dyer noted the lack of attention to him.

         Grizzly backhanded him across the face.  “Shut up, shitbird.  I'm tired of you already and I jess met you.”  Grizzly knelt down by the black man swinging and tussling in the ropes.  “My name is Grizzly Fontenot, asshole.  You, Antoine Dyer, have caused me a great deal-a grief and for dat, you find yo'self in your current sorry way.”

         “Sir, I'm beggin’ you.  Don't kill me.  I'll leave town and I ain't never coming back around here no mo.  You all crazy down here.  I'm fucking gone!”

           “Pinky swear?”  Grizzly wiggled his pinkie in his face.  Moses suddenly had Antoine’s hand in his fists.  Pete pulled out the .357 and fired a shot through Antoine’s palm.

Grizzly slapped him playfully on the bare ass and limped over to Moses, laughing.  Pete just stood in front of the man in the rope swing, never moving a muscle while staring at him behind his dark sunglasses and three-piece suit.

           “On my mama's grave, man.  I'm scared, man.  Please, please...” He started bawling as he looked at his disintegrated hands.  “Sir!”  He snorted as snot pored from his nose.  “Please don't!”

         “A man begging to live ain’t nothing I ain't seen before, shitbird.  Have some dignity and I might only shoot you in da head before we roast you.”

         It was a long while before Antoine Dyer made a sound approaching a human voice as he yelled for help once more.  By the time he began wailing apologies and offering again and again to disappear, Moses and Grizzly were leaning against the Bronco as Pete, stripped of his coat and tie, made off to find some more wood.

         “Your girl is doing okay.”  The pair smoked cigarettes and murmured.  “She a lil beat up, Mo.  You got sloppy.  I warned you bout taking dat wildcat huntin wit you.”

         Moses only shrugged but Grizzly could see he was happy to get an update.  “It was a bad spot to be in.  Hitting a crackhouse at night was a dumb-shit move.  Next time I won't be so eager to please you.”  Moses smirked.  “But, all in all, she learned a hard lesson.  Maybe she won't be so fucking eager to go next time.”

           “Not dat one, no sir.  She wild as wild can be.  Got stitches all over her mouth.  And her ass probably.  But you tell her tomorrow, you say, 'Hey baby, me and you, we gotta’ go down der to da Ninth Ward wit jus a knife and a broke beer bottle to kill fifty crackies.'  And dat girl, she jess gone and ask if she get da knife or da bottle.  Ain't seen one like her.  Theo and Betty says hey, by the way.”

           “I saw them.  I had to get her squared away so I could come out here and decide how to mend fences with that ghetto bastard appropriately.”

         “A cochon du lait?  Really?  I mean, Moses.  I admire your ingenuity sometimes, but dammit boy.”  He sucked his teeth.   

         “That's quite a lot of doing just to make a point.  After the ruckus getting outta’ der, you coulda’...”  Dyer’s screams finally got to Grizzly.

“Hey!  Shuddup ovah der, dead man!”  Pete pummeled the back of Antoine’s head with a huge fist as Grizzly shook his head in disgust.  “You coulda just popped him and been gone.”

           “But just think how happy the free-range locals will be when all that stringy meat just falls off the bone for them.  He stuck it to my lady, Griz.  He gonna’ know that shit don't fly before he dies.”

           “Yeah.  I reckon so.” Grizzly shook his head and chuckled.  He folded his arms and sighed.  “Right about the time that box door starts getting too hot to slap against and the air cooks out of it.”

           “It's got air holes.  I thought ahead.”

           “Damn.  Remind me not to piss you off.”

           “Just make sure the check always clears.”

           Grizzly chuckled.  Moses Holliday bent backwards, stretching and popping his old back and then swayed at the hips to pop it further.

         “Let’s do this.  I’m tired of this fucker and I gotta’ go see my girl.” He lit a cigarette. “It’s gonna’ be a bitch hiding this camp before I leave.”  They walked toward the swinging man.

“You bring your apron, Pete?”  Griz asked as he and Bertrand ambled toward Antoine Dyer.  The big man heard him and smiled at Dyer.

“Dammit, Mo.  You supposed to feed his ass corn for a while fo’ you cook 'im.”  Grizzly chuckled.  “He gonna’ be all gamey.”

“What?”  Dyer looked at his captors in panic.  The end game was now, he realized to his horror.  Despite the agony, he suddenly feared the cessation of the pain that much more.

“I kinda’ did.”  Moses sneered.  “Straight off the cob.”

         Grizzly Fontenot only shook his head in glib amusement as he grappled with the man's kicking feet while Moses and Pete hogtied him for transport before untying the suspension ropes.  “I ain't even asking.”



         “Hey you!” Curio smiled as Moses let himself into her room.

         “Howdy, ma’am.” He took off his hat and flipped everything he had in his hand onto the table. “How you feeling?”  He walked to her, shaking his head and he saw her bruising and swelling.

         “I feel no pain.” She smiled. “If you get an itemized bill, find out what that was they gave me.  It’s hannndy.”

         “We’re all done up here.  You ready to head out?”

         “I told Grizzly I wanted us to go back to the Bentley.”

         “We can’t go there with you busted up like that.  It’ll be suspicious.”

         “Well shit.”

         “Sorry, but I promise we can come back after you heal up.”

         Assuming we aren’t wanted for murdering three men up here… They each thought the same though simultaneously. 

         “Can we go back to your house?  I don’t wanna’ go to mine first.”

         “Of course.  We’ll head straight there.”

         “Moses?” She looked at him and took a deep breath.

         “Yeah, baby.” He sat down beside her.

         “I looked in the mirror after I took a shower.  I’m a fucking mess.”

         “He beat you up pretty good.  When I woke up and heard them having at you, I went a little crazy.” He looked at her face and touched it delicately.

         “Kiss my bo-bo.” She threw out her lip.  He pecked her softly.

         “Kiss some salt in it.  Like you told me that one time.”

         “I think you had enough salt in it.  We got sloppy, baby.  That can’t happen ever again, okay?”

         “Grizzly came by.”

         “He told me.”

         “I was scared.  Pete was just looking at me with those sunglasses on the whole time.  I swear they still don’t trust me and you working together.”

         “I can’t disagree with them.  It was tough.  Tougher on you, but tough on me to know it almost got us both killt and got you…” He turned away.

         “Fucked, baby.  Fucked.  Don’t think I was raped.  I let that fucker have at it.  I thought you was dead when I hearad one of ‘em with your gun.  I figured the only way I was gonna’ get loose was if they had a turn and got all sleepy or whatever afterward.  When I heard you was alive, baby!  You got no idea how happy I was to know that.  Yeah, we fucked up.  But I know if you’re around or I’m around, we both got a fightin’ chance because neither one of us is gonna’ take that shit for long.”

         “Some things are beyond our control though, baby.  For either of us.  It’s hard for me to not think about that.”

         “Kiss me and think about that then, Moses.  Because I’m laying here and it’s all I wanna’ think about right now.  You took care of that asshole, right?”

         “He’s handled.  Very much so.”

         “Then the revenge is done so just kiss me and let’s go home.”

 

*  *  *