Free BULLETS by Elijah Drive Page B

a boarding pass, anyway. Should I wait, or what?”
    “Nah. Head on back home. Call up the boys. I’ll stay on the nig, and when the sun goes down, it’s party time, border-style.”
    “Yee-haw!”
    Orville hung up and wondered if he could chance a run at the food court before it was too late. Probably not, looked like the coon was done with tea. He got up and left. Orville followed him out of the mall, cursing the entire way out.

11
    O rville stayed on Slick’s ass for the next two hours, his mood going from bad to terrible to fucking-nuclear-meltdown levels as he watched the other man just drive around town aimlessly, without a destination or purpose. Not only was Orville hungry as hell, this was burning serious gasoline. He’d started with a full tank and most of it was gone already, his truck inhaled premium like it was mother’s milk.
    That shit was up to four bucks a gallon, which meant it cost Orville plenty to fill this monster up. And he doubted he’d be getting reimbursed for it either.
    Orville hoped, hoped and prayed with every fiber of his being, that he’d be able to put a boot up this coon’s ass for the mental anguish he’d caused Orville, he just needed the nig to at some point pull over and get out of the car and in a dark, secluded area. It looked promising when Slick took a sudden turn and got on the highway, heading out of town. Orville picked up his phone.
    “Jay, yo. He’s hightailing it, driving out on the five.”
    “He spot you and decided to run for it?”
    “Nah, he didn’t see shit, and he still ain’t in no hurry, not that I can tell. Still looks like he’s sightseeing. Where you at, can you pick him up? My truck’s down to fumes.”
    “Yeah, I can swing around, I ain’t far away. By the time you hit the Shell Station, I should be on his ass. We still gonna do this, right?”
    “Hells yeah, try to fucking stop me, I wanna stomp this nigger so bad I can taste it. He’s gotta stop soon. He pulls over outside city limits that’s even better for us, in fact, we get him far enough out of town, we’ll run him off the road and fucking tap dance on his skull. Call Hartzler, tell him to meet me at the station. And Freddie, too.”
    “Got ya, I already picked up Vaughn, he’s in the truck with me. That gonna be enough? This fucking spear-chucker is supposed to be a black belt in karate.”
    “Five guys is too many for anyone, don’t care what they know. And fuck him and his black belt, I used to beat the shit out of those fucking college boy black belts back in the day every time we went out to the bars. I’ll make him eat that shit, watch me. Nothing I like better than hearing that some fuckhole’s got a black belt right before I break his fucking leg. This is gonna be sweet, Jay.”
    “We ain’t supposed to kill him, remember—”
    “I know that, asshole, I know what I’m doin’. He’s gonna be one hurtful nigger when I’m through, I’m gonna turn his ass out.”

12
    A fter fueling his pickup at the Shell Station, Orville met up with Jay and the boys about an hour outside of town, this roadhouse called Missy’s that he’d been to once or twice, decent beer on tap, okay food, usually had a band on the weekends and so on. It was a weeknight, though, so only the serious drinkers would be there and they’d only be interested in what was in their glass.
    Orville climbed out of his pickup, nodded to Hartzler and Jay and Freddie sitting on the tailgate of Jay’s truck. He unwrapped another candy bar; he’d been chowing down on the chocolate since the gas station.
    “He in there?”
    “Yeah,” Jay grinned. He was missing a couple front teeth and never got around to having them replaced. “He’s in there at the bar, eating a goddamn salad. Vaughn’s inside, keeping an eye on him, but he ain’t going nowhere.”
    “And after?”
    “Luke Paulson owns this place,” Hartzler said. “I know him, he’s good folks. He’ll pass the word around, story will be