Foodchain

“That’s all I ask.” Sturm finished the rest of the glass and thumped it on the table. “Miss Glouck, this evening has been quite satisfactory. Well done. Give my compliments to the chef. Unfortunately, it is time for me to remove myself. I have a very full day tomorrow, as do we all.” He gave Frank a meaningful look.

“Yeah.” Frank emptied his glass, set it gently on the table.

Alice fought to rise quickly in her tight dress, as if she was afraid Sturm or Frank might stand first. “Well, thank you gentlemen for gracing us with your presence. It was lovely.”

Sturm stood and nodded, “Of course.”

“So…we will be waiting to hear from you,” Alice said.

Sturm patted his pockets to reassure himself that the contract and his wallet were still there. “Soon as we get the tents set up, I’ll let you know.”

Frank stood as well, eyeing the kitchen door, but A

Alice gave him a smile, a genuine one this time, unselfconscious, one that pulled her chin back in tight to her throat and exposed her crooked bottom teeth. It made Frank feel even warmer, fueling the whiskey fire. He felt almost safe. Alice stared right at him. “You come back anytime you want. You got a place at this table anytime, understand? You helped Petunia.”

“That’s his job,” Sturm said. “He fixes animals that are broken.” One of the brothers brought his hat. “Thank you again for a lovely meal.” Settling the black Stetson on his white, bald head, he said, “Let’s go.”

Frank nodded, almost bowed, at Alice. “Thanks. Tell A

“How’s the wound?”

“Frank!” It was A

Sturm gri

“Hold on, okay?” A

A

“She’s just a good dog, aren’t you?” Frank said. “Yes. That’s right. A goddamn good dog. Yes.” Petunia seemed to agree, wiggling even harder.

“You in a hurry?” A

“No. Suppose not,” Frank said, scratching behind Petunia’s ears.

“Then let’s take Petunia for a swim.”

Frank caught himself looking at Sturm for permission. Sturm just gri

“Up at the reservoir. That okay with you, Mr. Sturm?” She’d caught Frank’s look, and this seemed to be more to fuel Frank’s embarrassment than Sturm’s okay.

Sturm waved his cigar, smoke streaming in the orange light from the streetlight. “You kids go have fun.” He walked back over and shook Frank’s hand. “Don’t worry. Go have fun. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Frank saw the hint of a wink, and felt something flat and stiff in his palm, left from the handshake. He casually tilted his hand and saw a twenty-dollar bill, crisply folded in thirds, tucked into his palm. Sturm walked back to his pickup. “Tomorrow.” He awkwardly stepped up into his pickup, like handicapped child clambering into a playground spaceship, and roared off.

* * * * *

Frank started the car and turned the air conditioning on while A

A

Frank hit a highway going up into the hills and stepped on the gas.

A

A

“All over.”

“That much I guessed. Where were you born?”

“East Texas.”

“Where’s your family now?”

“All over.”

“You visit with ’em much?”

Frank followed A

“Your mom?” A

Frank gave a sad smile. “Cancer.”

“Dad?”

“Don’t know.”

“My daddy’s in jail. He’s not a good man. I hope he never gets out.”

“How’d he get there?” Frank was hoping she’d put her hand back on his thigh.

A

“Jesus.” Frank was sorry he’d asked.

“No, I’m fucking with you. He’s in a jail, sure, but hell, he’s just a dumb-ass. He went after armored cars—he’d stake out an ATM and follow the truck back. He nailed two trucks, cops nailed him on the third. Thought he had to be a tough guy and use a loaded gun. So he oughta be up for parole in twenty years or so. I take a bus and see him once in a while.”

Frank turned off the engine and they sat in silence for a moment. “My daddy was a preacher. Can’t exactly say he was a man of god. He believed in…well, he believed in the devil, one. That’s for damn sure. And two, he believed in serpents. He was one of them snake handlers, always saying the word of god was protecting him from bites. Didn’t matter that he got bit twice in the face. He said that was ’cause of me. And mom, but mostly me. His fault for spawning me. God was punishing him.”

A