Free Rock Springs by Richard Ford Page B

rather do that.”
    â€œNo sir,” Cherry said.
    â€œOh Cherry, please don’t make me go to jail. I’m innocent,” Bobby said. “I don’t want to go.”
    â€œToo bad,” Cherry said and crossed her arms.
    â€œBe nice,” Arlene said. Though I know Cherry thought she was being nice. She liked Bobby.
    â€œShe’s teasing, Mama. Aren’t we, Cherry baby? We understand each other.”
    â€œI’m not her mama,” Arlene said.
    â€œThat’s right, I forgot,” Bobby said. And he widened his eyes at her. “What’s your hurry, Russ?” Bobby said, and I saw I had almost come to a stop in the street. The jail was a half block ahead of us. It was a tall modern building built on the back of the old stone courthouse. Two people were standing in the little front yard looking up at a window. A station wagon was parked on the street in front. The fog had begun to burn away now.
    â€œI didn’t want to rush you,” I said.
    â€œCherry’s already dying for me to go in there, aren’t you, baby?”
    â€œNo, she’s not. She doesn’t know anything about that,” Arlene said.
    â€œYou go to hell,” Bobby said. And he grabbed Arlene’s shoulder with his hand and squeezed it back hard against the seat. “This is not your business, it’s not your business at all. Look, Russ,” Bobby said, and he reached in the black plastic bag he was taking with him and pulled a pistol out of it and threw it over onto the front seat between Arlene and me. “I thought I might kill Arlene, but I changed my mind.” He grinned at me, and I could tell he was crazy and afraid and at the end of all he could do to help himself anymore.
    â€œJesus Christ,” Arlene said. “Jesus, Jesus Christ.”
    â€œTake it, goddamn it. It’s for you,” Bobby said with a crazy look. “It’s what you wanted. Boom,” Bobby said. “Boom-boom-boom.”
    â€œI’ll take it,” I said and pulled the gun under my leg. I wanted to get it out of sight.
    â€œWhat is it?” Cherry said. “Lemme see.” She pushed up to see.
    â€œIt’s nothing, honey,” I said. “Just something of Bobby’s.”
    â€œIs it a gun?” Cherry said.
    â€œNo, sweetheart,” I said, “it’s not.” I pushed the gun down on the floor under my foot. I did not know if it was loaded, and I hoped it wasn’t. I wanted Bobby out of the car then. I have had my troubles, but I am not a person who likes violence or guns. I pulled over to the curb in front of the jail, behind the brown station wagon. “You better make a move now,” I said to Bobby. I looked at Arlene, but she was staring straight ahead. I know she wanted Bobby gone, too.
    â€œI didn’t plan this. This just happened,” Bobby said. “Okay? You understand that? Nothing’s planned”
    â€œGet out,” Arlene said and did not turn to look at him.
    â€œGive Bobby back his jacket,” I said to Cherry.
    â€œForget it, it’s yours,” Bobby said. And he grabbed his plastic string bag.
    â€œShe doesn’t want it,” Arlene said.
    â€œYes I do,” Cherry said. “I want it.”
    â€œOkay,” I said. “That’s nice, sweetheart.”
    Bobby sat in the seat and did not move then. None of us moved in the car. I could see out the window into the little jailyard. Two Indians were sitting in plastic chairs outside the double doors. A man in a gray uniform stepped out the door and said something to them, and one got up and went inside. There was a large, red-faced woman standing on the grass, staring at our car.
    I got out and walked around the car to Bobby’s door and opened it. It was cool out, and I could smell the sour pulp-mill smell being held in the fog, and I could hear a car laying rubber on another street.
    â€œBye-bye, Bobby,” Cherry said in the