Free BULLETS by Elijah Drive

her that and she said no. So Danny asked her why she did it. She said, ‘No reason, really.’ And that’s all she ever said.”
    “Fuck man. What happened to her?”
    “Died before trial. In her sleep, in jail. Completely natural. Heard tell she had a smile on her face when she went. The old guy, the one with the broken pelvis who called the cops, he wept like a baby when she died, too.”
    “No reason, huh.”
    “No reason. That’s what I’m telling you, I know you’re damn good at seeing people’s insides and motivations, but some folks, you just never know what makes ’em tick, and you’re never gonna. Sometimes there’s fucking nothing in there.”
    “There’s always a reason, bro. Whether it’s a good reason or a selfish, egotistical one, that’s the question.”
    “Christ, don’t get all metaphysical on me now, I prefer she had no reason for it, I’m a simple guy like that. And, hey, in Celia’s house, know what else we found? Sex toys. Closets full, dude. Nasty ones, too. Huge, black dildos, velvet handcuffs, nipple clamps, anal beads, she had it all.”
    “I’m glad you told me that after lunch. Hey. Behind us. You see them, right?”
    Slick had been watching the rear view.
    “Hells yeah. I’m no fucking amateur, I made them the minute we pulled out. Blue pickup, couple cars back. There’s another one, too, rusty brown Chevy. They’re alternating on us, but they ain’t doing it like cops. Some local rednecks, I’d say.”
    Thumper glanced over at Slick. “So whatta wanna do?”
    Slick dug around in the glove compartment, found a state map, opened and studied it for a bit. He found what he was looking for.
    “I may need another favor or two.”
    “Anything, bro, you name it, you got it, but can I ask, will there be bolos thrown?”
    “I’d say heavy bolos are in the forecast.”
    “Then that’s a favor more for me than for you, dude.”

10
    O rville and Jay followed Slick and Thumper for the rest of the afternoon, alternating different eyes on him throughout the day so they wouldn’t notice someone was on their ass, watching. They stayed in touch via their cell phones. They found out what hotel Slick had checked into, a cheap fleabag on the edge of town. Just got one room, with one bed. Orville, watching from his truck, shook his head when he heard that.
    After checking in, Slick and his little buddy drove around the city awhile longer, then parked at a meter along the business strip of town and did some shopping, bought clothes and shit. Orville wondered if they’d hold hands and model thongs for each other when they got back to the motel.
    Orville thought having shifts watching the nig probably wasn’t necessary, he figured white people probably all looked the same to the big black bastard, just like niggers all looked the same to him, but it was good surveillance procedure and maintaining good training mattered, especially these days. He pulled his pickup in at a meter and watched as Slick walked along the sidewalk with his little buddy, who was supposed to be a boxer or some shit like that, and supposedly killed a guy some years back with his bare hands. He even did time for it, it was said.
    Orville had trouble buying that. He was fucking tiny, that guy. And that made him the bitch of the pair, of course. Had to be, he was the black bastard’s bitch. Don’t care how much boxing the little bitch knew, size matters in a fight, always has and always will. A big dude will fuck up a little dude every time. Orville himself weighed two-fifty, could bench his weight and then some. He’d pick that fucking munchkin up and roll him into a human shitball with his bare hands.
    Orville liked to fight, and, even better, he liked to fight guys who were smaller than he was. He thought about what he’d do to the little guy for staining his white heritage by being that black fucker’s prison bitch, maybe he’d turn the little dude out himself, if he had the chance, though he wasn’t