The rest of the Emporium looked like a movie set seen from the wrong angle. The wood was new and bright, and the fake fences built with shiny brass drywall screws. Reinhardt queued up for his meal, and as the line advanced, the songs gave way to a melodrama. A college kid with a glued-on black mustache tried to steal the gal of a different college kid who was clean-shaven with a blue bandanna tied swaggeringly around his boyish neck.
The whole thing escalated quickly. There were words, a shove, and a flamboyant stepping back. More words. Hand gestures. The bad guy drew on the good guy, and while the good guy’s hand was going to his gun belt, there was a shot. The bad guy clutched his stomach and sank to his knees. The girl’s skirt was up, a thigh holster exposed, and a smoking nickel-plated derringer in one hand.
“Clementine,” the villain said, “my only crime was loving you too”—he coughed and fell forward—“much.”
The girl and the dandy embraced and sang a duet of a pop song Reinhardt did not recognize from the cowboy canon.
As he came to the buffet, he took a coarse paper plate. Dollops of food appeared on that plate with neither grace nor ceremony: meat, red beans, half a corn cob, a square of corn bread, another square of sheet cake, with a shot of whipped cream from a can. He took his plate to the only empty seat in the Emporium, which was next to the sullen Japanese man, who did not notice him when he sat. Reinhardt ate one bite of everything, then pushed the plate away.
The Japanese man leaned forward. “Some show,” he said without taking a break in his sketching.
“It’s the only way this particular day could end.”
“But it’s not very cowboy.”
Reinhardt laughed and shook his head. “No, it’s not, is it?”
“It’s okay though. I’m here for all this corny stuff. My name is Kenji,” he said, extending his hand. “I am from Osaka.”
“I am Reinhardt. From Berlin.” They shook hands.
“Wow,” Kenji said. “What a world where the Axis powers can be on vacation together right in the heartbeat of America.” He looked down and wrote a note to himself.
“Your English is excellent,” Reinhardt said.
“My father hired a tutor for me and my sister. He wanted us to follow him into business. I used English to watch old cowboy movies. I love John Ford, Sam Peckinpah. Your English is also good, but you’re German, so it makes sense.”
“Thank you?” Reinhardt said.
“Every German I know can speak excellent English.” Kenji closed his notebook and stood. “I would love to stay and chat it up with you, but I have preparations to make for a big meeting. It was nice to make your acquaintance.”
When he walked past, Reinhardt saw that Kenji had a large image of Hello Kitty painted on the back of his leather jacket. As the Emporium closed back around him, Reinhardt pulled his plate back and tried another bite of the thick beans, then the corn bread, then the cake. The band returned to the stage and started playing a song about cool, clear water.
Day Five
They did not go to town for beers : It’s from a movie you never saw : There’s no bad ideas in brainstorming : The elusive Antilocapra americana : Just ask Bruce : Complex questions usually require complex answers
Byron woke to the sound of peeing. He lay still, waited for it to stop, then listened to the bobbling of the toilet paper roll. Moonlight filled the room, and he wanted to shut the blackout curtains, but he didn’t want anyone to know he was awake. He felt the spot next to him, which was empty. The room’s A/C unit kicked on. Lonnie was asleep in the other bed, and Leia, the woman next to him, sat up.
“Is that you?” she said.
“Yeah. What time is it?” the other woman said from the bathroom.
“2:12.”
“How long were we supposed to keep an eye on these guys?”
“Till that Scissors guy comes back. Maybe this afternoon.”
“Come smoke with me.”
“He said we have to stay with them.”
“They’re sleeping. How’s he gonna know?”
The toilet flushed, and he heard a zipper close. “Come smoke with me,” she repeated.
Byron listened as the women dressed and left the room. When they were gone, he crawled across the bed, opened the drawer of the nightstand, and reached inside.
“No,” he said, sitting up. “No, no, no.”
He stood and tore through the room naked, opening all the drawers and slamming them shut. Lonnie awoke and rolled over. “What’s wrong?” he groaned.
“The money! Where’s the money?”
“You’re naked, man,” Lonnie said. “Where’s the girls?”
“I put the money in the nightstand last night.”
Lonnie pointed to the safe, which sat above the minifridge.
“Why’s it in there? Never mind.” Byron squatted in front of it. “What’s the combo?”
“Mom’s birthday.”
“I mean what’s the number?”
“You don’t know Mom’s birthday?”
Byron pushed LOCK and held the button until the word SUPER appeared, then he tapped the 9 button until the safe opened. Inside were both envelopes. He opened them and thumbed through the bills.
“It’s February fourteenth. Valentine’s Day. You should know that,” Lonnie said.
“I don’t need a lecture.”
“Where are the girls?” Lonnie asked.
“Smoking.”
“They could smoke in here. It’s that kind of room.”
“I’m just telling you what they said.”
“Do you think they’ll be back?”
“Yeah,” Byron said, “I think they will. They’re working for Scissors.”
“Like us?”
“This is different. We need to get out of here.”
“It’s, like, the middle of the night.”
“We’ve gotta go home.”
“That’s the one thing Scissors said not to do.”
“We ain’t listening to him no more.”
While the girls were out, the brothers snuck through the casino, crossed the parking lot, and drove away. Lonnie slept through most of the trip. Byron kept himself awake with another snort of meth and a Mountain Dew chaser he bought while he gassed up the truck using the Visa card Scissors gave him.
At some point he’d have to come clean on the fact that he kept one of the maps, but for the moment he focused his attention on getting home, getting that map, and gathering up the gear they’d need to make their own way onto the monument and start digging. He thought about how he’d make his parole check-ins and how the only thing a person like him could do for a living when he came out of prison was go right back into the life that put him there. He was glad Lonnie was asleep or he’d have to talk to him about jellyfish or Myanmar or anvil lightning or electric airplanes or the Guinness Book of World Records. What he wanted was some quiet so he could make a plan without being interrupted.
They climbed through the gorge, blew through each of the towns along the way, and slipped back into the quiet desert. The stars reappeared when they were away from the lights of the city, and the Milky Way presided over the dark expanse.