That’s How I Roll: A Novel (29 page)

few weeks after, I rolled into Lansdale’s bar. I’d spent those weeks listening to the stories. It seemed like Casey Myrtleson being blown to bits was all folks could talk about.

They had it every which way the mind could imagine. Casey had been using cocaine to sharpen his reflexes and ran up a big debt
in the process. A certain driver Casey had put into the wall a few times had made sure that wouldn’t ever happen again. A wealthy old man’s young wife had told too many stories at the beauty parlor. Casey had been trying to brew up his own mixture for the track, and playing around with nitro-mixing fuel isn’t for amateurs.

On and on. After a while, I swear there were more stories than there were people telling them.

As I came in the door, Lansdale stood up and walked over to his table. Nobody else was there. Nobody would ever
be
there unless Lansdale himself had invited them over.

Somebody stepped behind me and took hold of the handles of my chair. I didn’t understand that, but it didn’t worry me, considering where I was.

That night is so fixed in my memory that I can recall what was playing on the jukebox when I saw Nancy coming over to me:

Only this time she wasn’t smiling. Not even close. “Just what in hell do you think you’re doing, Elmore?” she said to the man behind me.

“I was just trying to help—”

“You think Esau needs
your
help to get around? The man’s got arms on him like thick lumps of iron.”

“Now, how would you be knowing that?” the man Nancy had called Elmore said to her.

“And how would that be any business of yours?” she snapped back.

Before he could say anything, Lansdale stood up and waved me over.

hank you, Nancy,” I said when she put the mug of apple juice in front of me.

“Let it go, now,” Lansdale told her. “The way you’re fuming, you’ll give yourself a damn stroke.”

“Where does that bucktoothed white trash think he—?”

“Nancy,” I said, “could you do me a favor?”

“I … Sure, Esau. What would you like?”

“I’d appreciate you asking that Elmore fella if he’d come over here for a minute. I know he tried to do me a service, and I’d like to shake his hand.”

She stole a quick look at Lansdale. He nodded his head, giving her the okay.

Elmore came on over. He was a big guy. Not Tory-boy’s size, but over six foot, easy.

I offered my hand. He took it.

It wasn’t five seconds before he called it off.

“Hah!” Nancy said to him. “I told you—”

“Could I get one more of these?” I asked her, holding up my empty glass.

“You can get anything you want, honey,” she said, and planted a little kiss on my cheek before she walked off.

I don’t know where Elmore went to. Me, I was in Heaven.

“You are truly something else, Esau,” Lansdale said, shaking his head like he’d just seen an amazing sight. “Your spine may be all messed up, but you got enough backbone for a tribe of gorillas.”

I didn’t want to reply to that, so I just waited for Nancy to get back, then held up my glass by way of saying “thank you” to Lansdale and Nancy both.

Lansdale had been right about the beauty of how Nancy walked, and I hadn’t missed an opportunity since. As soon as she was out of sight, Lansdale offered his own hand.

It was a man’s handshake, firm and strong, but nothing like that foolishness Elmore had tried.

“There isn’t a liquor store in the world that lets you buy on credit. So, if a man walks into a liquor store after dark, it’s either because he’s got money … or because he doesn’t.”

“That’s why they all deal from behind that bulletproof glass,” I agreed. “Because, just looking at a man walking in, there’s no way you can tell.”

“Unless you know the man,” he said, holding up his square-cut whiskey tumbler.

“Unless you know the man,” I said, tapping my mug of apple juice lightly against his glass.

“My wife and I, we’d be honored if you and your brother would take supper with us Thursday night, Esau.”

That hit me like a shock wave of … well, I don’t have a name for it. That invitation was beyond anything I’d ever expected to happen in my life. And including Tory-boy, well, that was exactly the way such things are done—you invite a man for dinner at your home, you invite his family, too.

Treating Tory-boy like he wasn’t “special” was the most special thing anyone had ever done.

“I’m truly honored by your invitation,” I said, keeping it as formal as a tea dance, “but I’m also honor-bound to refuse.”

“Why would that be?” Lansdale said. His voice was as polite as mine, but I could feel something darker lurking around its edges.

“It’s not right to accept an invitation when you can’t reciprocate. Our place isn’t suitable for a man to bring his family to.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Lansdale said, all the darkness suddenly gone from his voice. In fact, he was outright grinning at me. “No offense, but I don’t know anyone in this whole county who’d accept an invitation to have a meal at your place, Esau. More than likely, they’d think you were inviting them to
be
the meal.

“You know how people talk. There’s all kinds of horror stories about those dogs of yours—supposed to have a real taste for human flesh, the way I hear it.”

“Not a word of truth to that,” I said, feeling the smile come out on my own face. “But they really do fancy the organs.”

“So you’re saying—?”

“Pardon the interruption, but I couldn’t wait to say this. I accept your kind offer, sir. And the honor would be ours.”

ansdale had a fine house. Nothing showy, but you could see it had taken real craftsmanship to put it together.

The only thing that didn’t go perfect was when I had to touch my finger to my cheek, the signal for “Stop it!” Tory-boy had been staring at Lansdale’s daughter like he’d been hit over the head with an ax handle. A whole bunch of times.

Not that I really blamed him. Patsy was every bit as beautiful as folks said. But I’d taught Tory-boy better than that. And not just for politeness’ sake—gawking at a girl gives away too much information about yourself.

There’s much better ways to pay a compliment. Such as when Lansdale’s wife insisted that I call her Kay. Later on, I told her I was a man who’d studied science all my life but it didn’t require a deep knowledge of genetics to see where Patsy had taken her looks from. I could tell she knew I wasn’t slick-talking, just telling the truth in a polite way.

“You’ll always be welcome here, Esau,” Kay told me at the end of the evening. “You and Tory come on back anytime you get tired of eating your own cooking.”

“I can cook,” Tory-boy immediately piped up.

“Oh, I’m sure of that,” Lansdale’s wife said, as she reached out and patted Tory-boy’s forearm. “I don’t imagine there’s much you couldn’t do if you put your mind to it.”

It was right there that I learned the difference between just having good manners and having genuine class.

acquired some of my knowledge late. But after working for a time, I came to understand that everything in life always boils down to principles.

Principles come in two forms.

Some you can never change, like a scientific principle that had proved itself, over and over again. That reliability test:
x
always causes
y
.

It’s the “always” that makes it science.

The scientific principle for making a bomb is as logical as not scratching a poison ivy rash. All you need is a container that isn’t strong enough to hold whatever you put inside of it. The stronger the container, the stronger that inside force has to be.

Another scientific principle is that accuracy will defeat firepower. One truly skilled sniper could wipe out a whole gang, provided he had good enough cover and plenty of time. A tiny dash of poison in a cup of coffee could take down a man powerful enough to bend a crowbar in his bare hands.

But inside that principle there’s another one, which you can’t see. No matter how powerful the explosive or how potent the poison, they’re absolutely worthless without a direct-delivery system.

You want to kill a powerful man with poisoned coffee, you have to get him to drink that coffee.

The other type of principles are those a man chooses to live by. No man can change scientific principles, but any man can change his own.

How else could there be traitors?

ansdale had made himself an enemy. He didn’t know who it was—although I suspect he had an idea—but he knew someone was committed to his death.

“It came out of nowhere,” he told me. “The box I was sitting on slid just a tiny bit, the side of my face felt this little bee-sting … and
then
I heard the crack of the rifle. I dropped and rolled behind some rocks, but it was another few seconds before I realized I was bleeding. Whoever he was, he didn’t miss by much.”

“You were in Grant’s Tomb?”

“That’s right,” he said. “Now, how would you guess something like that, Esau?”

So that’s why he wanted to meet
, I thought to myself. Part of me was saddened that he might think such a thing. I had been a guest in his home, and I was sure he knew how much that had meant to me.