Nothing to Lose

Chapter 9

72 “I don’t know that’s a good question or bad question to be asking. Ain’t no need to check on D. Wayne, he’s a good boy. Man, I mean. Ain’t nothing wrong with him. He say it, it happens.” “So what exactly are his business interests?” I asked. “Why don’t you ask his momma?” As he said that, the woman who looked like an upturned mop stepped into the store from the room off to the side.“You give me a ride to my house, I tell you all about D. Wayne, my bestest child.” “Miss Ruthie stay up the road in that new Taj Mahal D. Wayne built for her.” The old man smiled at Ruthie as he said that, and she smiled back. “I walk down in the mornings to get my exercise and to help Mr. Peveto with his morning chores,”Ruthie Deshotel said.“But now I need a ride back.” “Your own feet got you here,they ought to take you back,”Mr.Peveto said, then looked at me. “You going to buy something?” Looking around, I went to the glass doors and grabbed a soda. “Mrs. Deshotel, would you like something to drink?” “I would love a Co-Cola,” she said. When I put the two sodas on the counter, Mr. Peveto stepped up to the computerized cash register and pushed a few buttons. The cash drawer opened, but no amount lit up. “It broke two years ago. Selling Ding Dongs and Twinkies ain’t enough to get it fixed,” Mr. Peveto said. He took my five and, and as clerks did in the old days, figured out the amount of change in his head. I took my change and held the door open for Mrs. Deshotel. “You be careful of that gentleman,”Mr Peveto said to Mrs. Deshotel. “You don’t know him or his intentions.” They exchanged smiles, and I realized that I was in between the appreciative, adoring, yet teasing words and gazes of two elderly lovers. After I helped D.Wayne’s mother into the cab of my truck and pulled out of the parking lot, she asked, “You ain’t no cop, are you?” “No. I’m a business associate.” “That don’t say just a whole lot.” “I’m with the Beaumont Chamber of Commerce.” “Right,”Mrs. Deshotel said as she struggled to pull off the tab of her Coke. Holding the can with two hands, she daintily took a sip. “I sure 73 don’t want to spill none on your nice new truck.” When I pulled out onto the road, she started talking in between sips of Coke. “You go ahead and do your deal with D. Wayne. He’s my smartest child. He’s smarter than his brother that’s a Houston preacher. Smarter than his sister that’s a Houston lawyer. He’s of course smarter than his other brother that’s done some little bit of time.” “He is a trustworthy man?” “Wait, you wait and look.” She pointed out the window with a long skinny finger.“That there is a historical site.You can’t see much of it now, but there’s a concrete slab and some high hurricane fence all around it. There was some of the best blues played in this state right there.Nobody in this little ol’town could afford a proper dance floor,so my parents and their people poured the concrete and put the fence around and would lock themselves inside for some grand dances. Now only me and Mr. Peveto remember.” I was going too fast to note the concrete slab or the high wire. “Now you slow down, slow down, slow down, slow down.” When I slowed to a crawl, she said, “Now turn right, right here, now.” I quickly turned off onto a gravel road. Ruthie Deshotel laughed at my turn. “I told you to slow down. Most people don’t know how to look for little country roads.” “You walk from here to that store.” “Every morning.” “You must enjoy Mr. Peveto’s company.” “We been enjoying companying up since D. Wayne’s daddy got shot by a bad old ex-Kluxer deputy sheriff over in Hardin County.” Then she extended her finger again. “See there?” I looked at her Taj Mahal. It was a typical modern house with the faux Victorian style. “D. Wayne built that house for me. If you notice, we come up...