In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

82 Shake it and get out of here.” Billy looked around, shook, and left. In midstream, I turned to see D. Wayne’s big pal. Unlike a teenager’s, my stream immediately stopped. “Relax, man,” bucket head smiled. Then D. Wayne stepped in. “Finish your business, then we’ll finish ours.” I turned my attention back to the urinal, my mind relaxed, and my stream started.Then my kidney exploded. My knees buckled. But before I hit the ground, another explosion went off in my right temple, and then my right eye went blind. Before I hit the ground, I pissed along the side of the wall and on my pants. As I curled on the tiles I pissed on myself and in a little puddle beside me. I felt like I was pissing blood. Almost as bad as my blind eye and the explosions in my kidney and temple were the smell and feel of the floor. People had pissed on the buckled, pried-loose, cracked linoleum for years. Without repair, the boards beneath the linoleum and the linoleum itself were rotten and mildewed. So I also felt nauseous. I stopped pissing and rolled over.The linoleum was under the side of my head, and I tried to point my nose away from it. My right eye got its sight back, and I saw D.Wayne and the tax collector standing over me. D. Wayne motioned to the tax man. “This here nigger likes eating pussy more than any nigger I ever knew. Hell, he probably likes eating pussy more than any white man does.You know how you white boys are about eating pussy.But you know what he likes more than eating pussy?” I could only shake my head.D.Wayne looked at the big,pussy-eating nigger, who said,“I like beating up punk white boys. Makes me feel like I’m getting even for all the wrong done my race.” He reached down, grabbed a hold of my shirt with his two hands, and jerked me up like I was a rag doll. D. Wayne said, “You like fucking niggers? That it? ’Cause I told you the deal. You ain’t got a choice. You my partner, man. So you not only like fucking niggers, you like fucking partners?”The pussy-eating nigger dropped me, and my knees damn near buckled, but I was able to stiffen them and stand up. I felt the wet thighs of my jeans. My instincts told me to talk; my mind took over and told me to shut the fuck up. No telling how much trouble I could get myself into.“Now, this big nigger ain’t gonna whip your ass no more if you play straight 83 with me. But . . .” D. Wayne held up a finger in front of my face. “If you ever talk to my momma again. You ever ask questions about me. He gonna give up pussy eating for whipping your ass.” The big nigger just nodded. D. Wayne held up another finger. “Two. I ain’t got shit. All I got is what you got from Lee. And that includes a name. That name is Bruce. You know Bruce?” I was done protecting Bruce.He knew the game was dangerous when he got involved.He should have stuck with the tattoos and the piercings. “He comes in here. Hell, he’ll probably be in tonight, later.” D. Wayne nodded. “Now you doing better. What else you got to tell your partner?” I didn’t dare lie. My mind told me I couldn’t outfight him, but I could probably outbullshit at least the big guy. I told him what I knew before I left for the Hill Country,what had scared me into trying to resurrect my past life.“You can understand a middleaged white man looking forward to his golden years, can’t you? Well, with you making me a partner, with Lee telling me there’s turds floating in Harry’s flooded life, with the Hudsons giving me pause and making me think that maybe my newfound partner is as true-bluest as I can get; I decided that golden is connected to leaving.” The big guy nodded to D. Wayne, “I can see that.” “But a truer-blue partner than you told me that I was looking at things wrong. I think that you’re looking at it wrong, too.” D. Wayne pulled back from me.The tax collector pulled back...

Share