Kellen Cage was watching him with raised eyebrows, but he gave a slow nod and set his drink down and released Eric’s arm.
“Sure, man. There’s places.”
He felt better as soon as they were outside. It was still warm, had to be close to eighty, but some of the humidity had left with the sun, and the air outside the hotel was fresh and fragrant, pushed by a mild breeze.
“You didn’t look so good back there,” Kellen said as they went around the building and up toward the parking lot.
“Got a little dizzy,” Eric said.
“What were you talking about with the violins, though?”
“Just confused.”
Logical thing to do was shake Kellen’s hand, tell him it had been good talking, and then go up to the room and get some sleep. Something seemed to be tugging him elsewhere, though. He wanted to be away from the hotel.
“Head up to the casino?” Kellen asked as they approached the parking lot.
Eric shook his head. “No, I’d rather find someplace”—without so many lights—“quieter. Smaller.”
Kellen pursed his lips, thinking. “Be honest with you, there aren’t many places around here. There’s a little bar up the road that’s decent, though. Called Rooster’s. Went in there a couple times for lunch. Friendly woman behind the bar, if nothing else.”
“That’ll do.”
Kellen lifted his hand and punched a button on his key chain and the lights of a car in front of them flicked on. A black Porsche Cayenne that looked brand-new.
“They must pay students better than they did when I was in school,” Eric said.
“Nah, I bought this with my side venture. Sling a little bit of that crack.”
“I’m sure you do.”
Kellen smiled. “One of these days I’m going to get a white guy to believe that.”
“Matter of time,” Eric agreed, walking around to the passenger side, opening the door, and sliding into the leather seat. “It is a damn nice car, though.”
“My brother gave it to me,” Kellen said. “Twenty-fifth birthday present.”
Eric raised his eyebrows. “That’s one hell of a present. What’s he do?”
“I’ll show you in a while,” Kellen said, and he didn’t elaborate as he started the engine and drove them away from the hotel. Eric didn’t question him. On another night, the remark might have caught his curiosity more. Tonight, all he wanted to do was press his head back against the seat, shut his eyes, and believe that when he opened them again, the only things he’d see would be of this world.
10
JOSIAH BRADFORD WOULDN’T HAVE minded just sitting on the porch with his feet up and having a few beers in privacy that night, waiting on the heat to settle and letting a day’s work ease out of his muscles. Danny Hastings had a wild hair in him, though, way Danny tended to on Fridays, and so Josiah found himself away from the porch and at the casino instead.
Danny was maybe the dumbest son of a bitch had ever learned to walk upright, but he still had more brains than money. Despite that, he found his way down to that casino about weekly. He was the sort of dumb that thought he was one pull of the slot lever away from rich, one righteous shuffle and deal away from flying first class to France.
Pathetic shit, if you asked Josiah.
Could’ve stayed home, of course, but once Danny called, Josiah relented pretty easy. That had nothing to do with Danny or the casino and more to do with the fact that Josiah’s mood was darker than normal after working in that blistering sun and dodging Amos and watching the weekend crowd arrive at the hotel. A distraction seemed like a good choice. Josiah knew his own moods pretty well by now, saw ’em coming like storm clouds, and tried to get out of their way when he could. There’d be times, though, when he’d see them on the horizon and just not give a shit, let them come on and wash over him. And on those occasions, heaven help you if you got in his way.
He was inclined, as he often was, for a good screw. That was fortuitous, because the women did more drinking on a weekend night, a circumstance in his favor. He and Danny got to the casino around eight, and Josiah downed a few bourbons and watched Danny gamble away the forty bucks he had in cash—money that was supposed to get him through till next Thursday’s paycheck—then go to the ATM and take out a fifty-dollar cash advance on the last credit card any bank would ever be fool enough to give him. Josiah left the blackjack table then, ordered another drink, and shot the shit with a few old boys he knew who were hanging around the bar waiting for Danny to get cleaned out one more time.
It was carrying on toward ten when he walked by the blackjack tables on his way to take a piss and saw Danny haggling with the dealer, two dollars in chips left in front of him. Couldn’t do nothing but shake your head at that. Stupid bastard.