Anaideia 49

Randy finished his glass of scotch and paced around the basement. At that moment there was nothing I wanted more than to be done with this charade so I looked at Dale who was unbothered by this tension. “Well Randy,” I declared, “I don’t forgive you. So let’s stop pussyfooting around and get this over with.”

Randy stopped pacing and looked at the Madam and her eyes drifted to the floor. Then he sighed and poured another glass. “You know what this means don’t you?” he asked me.

“It means in a matter of minutes we’ll dead and buried,” I said plainly.

He swallowed the scotch whole. “But what about your friend there?” he asked, referring to Dale.

“Oh, me?” said Dale. “Yeah I’ve know that this was coming for a long time.”

I could’ve been wrong but I thought I saw a small tear streaking down Randy’s cheek. Whatever emotions he might’ve been feeling, he concealed them well with his following statements. “Okay then,” he said, “but I won’t do it here. This is my home. I wish that I could have given you a better ending but I must have you two escorted to the desert and shot. I’m very sorry.”

“Shove your apologies,” I said.

Randy signaled to the driver and the driver briefly left the room. A moment later, Old Jim stepped out from behind the door with his six shooter ready. “Jim!” I gasped.

“How’s your aim dad?” Randy asked him.

“I may be old, but I can still shoot the pecker off a…”

“Alright alright,” Randy interrupted him. “Take these men out to the desert and have them killed.”

“Dad?!” I shouted.

“Yeah, Old Jim is my dad. Which makes him your grandpa I suppose. I thought it was obvious. You’re both named James. Anyway, let’s get this show on the road…”

Christ, I thought. It was obvious. But it didn’t matter anymore. Old Jim and the driver approached us and took us by the arm. “Hello James,” Jim said to me.

“Jim! Papaw!”

“Papaw,” said Jim. “I remember my papaw. Legend has it that his dick was two feet long and he strangled Wild Bill Hickok with…”

“Dad!” Randy interrupted. “Enough with the stories! We have a job to do!”

“And where are you going?” I asked Randy as he was picking up several Manila envelopes.

“I have a meeting with the Vietnamese in an hour. Sorry that I can’t make it.”

“So a meeting with the Vietnamese is more important than the death of your own son?”

Randy stood motionless at my challenge. “But this is a very important meeting,” he said.

I shook my head. “How typical of Randy,” I said rhetorically. “He can’t even look his own son in the eye.”

He slammed the glass onto the tiled floor and it shattered into a thousand pieces. The Madam was startled by the sudden burst. “Alright! Goddamn you!” he shouted. “If this is what you want then I will grant you your last request! I will, by god, journey with you to the desert where you will meet your demise!”

“Thanks Randy,” I said. “That’s very sweet of you.”

TO BE CONTINUED…