Page 89 of Constantly Cotton

I think that’s how long it’s been. I was like eighteen or something when I joined the army and I saw Ace. God, I wanted him then. Wanted him to keep me. I didn’t know then that he wanted bigger things for me, wanted us to keep each other. I try—every day I try—to be the guy who can do that. Can be a lover you want to come back to when you gotta go be a hero.

It’s a good thing Ace is Ace, and solid as they come, or I’d be sorta scary when he was gone.

Like the second day he was gone—I think it was the second day, because even though I was at Ernie’s that first night, me and Duke and all the fuckin’ cats, I didn’t sleep great. Day sorta bled into night and into day again and I woke up not with Ace, which hadn’t happened much since we decided to keep each other, so you can see my confusion.

So by the second day after that, I was sorta tired. I had to make Ernie talk to the people who came in to get their cars fixed, because the first time I shouted over my shoulder for Ace to come help me and then when I remembered Ace wasn’t there, I tried to explain that Ace wasn’t there and, well, those people probably would have driven off into the road with half their car dragging behind them if Ernie hadn’t come and made it better.

So yeah, it’s probably a good thing I stick to cars, right?

Anyway, I do stick to cars, but in the afternoon Ernie brought me water and lunch and then asked me where we kept the guns.

I told him they was locked in the end table in the TV room and then I gave him the keys while I guzzled my water. I finished my water and went back to the Audi I was working on for the crispy pink man who was waiting patiently for it across the street. He was a sweet guy, but probably should not’ve been driving a convertible in this heat, certainly not in August. I mean, alls I was doing was fixing the latch, but I’d felt so bad for the guy, I was double-checking his engine coolant and shit because if he broke down after we got the top back up, he’d cook like a dead worm on the asphalt, and I’d kinda liked him. He’d offered to bring me a soda and I do love my sweets.

Anyways, there I was, double-checking all the checks, when it occurred to me to ask why Ernie needed a gun.

I finished up with the Audi and found Ernie in the air-conditioned clerk’s cubicle. I knocked on the door gently before I said something.

He practically grabbed the ceiling and that was my first notion that something mighta been terribly terribly wrong.

“What?” I yelled. “What happened? Why do we need the guns? Jesus fuck a rabbit, Ernie, the hell is wrong with you?”

Ernie’s face was so tense it was white under his tan. “Why did you scare me like that!” he yelled, his voice breaking.

“Why’d you jump like a fucking kangaroo, Ernie! What’s going on?”

Ernie held a hand up to make me shut up and then stood for a moment, his other hand on his chest while he calmed himself down.

He was down to steady breaths when I saw the pink crispy guy walking back, a big soda in his hand that I think was for me.

“Gimme a sec,” I told Ernie. “I gotta take care of this.”

I didn’t charge the guy none—it took me like five minutes, and the soda was appreciated. I told him he needed to stock up on zinc oxide ’cause that’s what we used in the military, and he said he appreciated that. Then he wrapped his head in a towel and smeared cream all over his face and got into the car. Good—maybe the cream would help the blisters.

I came back and Ernie was standing behind the door, one of the three Berettas Ace and I kept in the drawer pointed down like maybe Burton had taught him how to use it.

“The fuck?” I asked, because it was starting to dawn on me that no matter what Ace and Jai were doing right now, something else was going down.

“They’re pulling up,” he whispered. “They’re violent men, Sonny. Tell them we’re closed.”

Fuck. Oh fuck. We’d done this before—but Ace and Jai had stood in the bay, one of them holding the gun while the other one’d worked on the car.

“Yeah, fine,” I said. “Gimme the other gun. I know how to use it.”

“You startle easy,” he said, his breath coming in quick pants.

“Did we or did we not have to peel you off the ceiling?” I asked. Jesus, it should be clear to even Ernie that if someone was gonna do the killing, it should be me because seriously, motherfuckers who want to hurt my family aren’t real people to me, and that’s the finger you want on the trigger.

I checked the gun over and had just shucked my coveralls down to my waist so I could shove it under my belt when a dented black SUV sped its way past the drive to the front of the shop and around the back to the garage bay.

I looked at Ernie and said, “Hide under the counter,” before I ran out to greet whatever bad news just pulled up.

They got out and started talking quickly in words that sounded like Jai’s, gesturing to each other and then to me. I waited patiently with a stupid expression on my face because it helps sometimes if people think you don’t get what’s going on.

These assholes were obviously debating whether I was the one they were supposed to kill or someone else was.

“Can I help you?” I asked when the sun had about pounded us all flat. Them more than me ’cause they were wearing suits in the sun, which is dumb and I felt sort of vindicated for thinking I could probably shoot them easy.

“We are looking for man who owns this garage,” one of the men said thickly, and I blinked real slow.