My Name is D, Part 4: Just Like a Spider

Just like a spider

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

From Part 2: You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Like A . . . I know I’ll have to go after Mr. D, just to make sure he don’t get himself into any more trouble. That boy and trouble is like bread and butter. And if that Someone Else is as bad as I reckon he is, then trouble is just around the corner. But I don’t mind. I say bring it on.

Because let me tell you, Sweet Cheeks, you ain’t seen nothin’ like A.

Here I am, lookin’ at ol’ Ronnie Johnson, and damn if I ain’t got a problem.

Damn fool gave his ol’ Buick to Mr. D. Gave it to him, like Mr. D was the Second Coming and needed a ride outta Dodge to pick up all those who were gonna sit at His right hand.

I took a moment to let this sink in. Ronnie tried to slink away, but I pinned him to the dirt with just my eyes. I’m told I got mean green eyes. I don’t know ‘bout that – what I do know is that when I give a man my glare – an’ I mean my best and fiercest glare – he won’t have what it takes to say boo to a goose.

Now, I had a good idea of where Mr. D was headed. There ain’t much out here in the desert and the nearest town – some rinky-dink place called Bald Junction – isn’t even on the damn map. An’ that boy do kinda stand out – all six feet and lean muscle of that boy stand out. So findin’ people who’d seen him wasn’t gonna be hard.

Of course, it woulda been easier if I had been able to put a discreet word out to the ol’ boys in blue that a stolen car was seen headin’ towards that ghost-town wannabe. Then I could have let them circle the wagons and caught Mr. D as he tried to slip through their net.

Because lemme tell you, that boy’s not dumb. He would have slipped through that net, and there I woulda been, sittin’ there waitin’ for him, just like a spider. But thanks to ol’ Ronnie, I gotta think up another plan.

I says goodbye to ol’ Ronnie and get back into my pickup. The sun was startin’ to get low in the sky, night was creepin’ on in – and at this time of year, it was gonna creep on in quick. I do some of my best thinkin’ at this time of the day. Everything stops, like the day is holdin’ its breath, waitin’ to see what night’s gonna do to it.

I know that feeling.

If Mr. D was headin’ towards Bald Junction, then he was going to find himself up against the Good Ol’ Girls brigade there. There’s more than a few blue-haired ladies that’ll give my boy a run for his money – even as much as he’d love to give them a run for theirs, you know what I mean? Like I said, that boy sure do look nice, but he plays nasty.

So, I’m watchin’ the sun sink lower an’ lower – makin’ the sky as pink as a girl’s first blush – and it dawns on me. It’s a big ol’ thought, all bright and happy even though it meant pokin’ a stick into a vipers nest.

There’s a spit of a town, just beyond Bald Junction, called Leeds – named after some fancy English that lived there back in the days of the War Between the States. There’s been some rumors of some pretty heavy fellas movin’ in there. Heavy fellas that even the Cartels won’t touch.

Let Mr. D play. I got a few people who’d be more than happy to keep an eye on him. Let him think he got away – that he outsmarted ol’ A – for just a bit more. It would be kinda fun to see what trouble that rustles up. Might be kinda interestin’ to see if that Someone Else really is watchin’ our every move like I think he is.

I gunned the engine on that ol’ pickup and grinned wide enough to split my face ear to ear. Oh yeah, those are gonna be some vipers.

* * *

D: How long are you going to let this go on?

A: As long as it takes.

D: But that’s just it – do you even have an end point, or are we just puppets, tied to the random and whimsical movements of your hands?

A: What’s wrong with whimsical?

D: Druids don’t do whimsical.

A: Don’t you? Haven’t you spent enough time in my head to at least tolerate whimsical?

D: Being in your head has used up my tolerance for whimsy, A.

A: Well then you will be happy to know that I have every intention of writing an outline to see where this story is going.

D: Every intention . . . this does not sound promising.

A: Oi, I started one! What else do you want?!

D: How about a plot arc?

A: It has that . . . somewhere. . . I think.

D:  . . .

A: Oh come on, D. You’re enjoying it. Admit it.

D: Perhaps.

A: Ha! Knew it!

D: I–

A: No, don’t say anything more, D. It’s a beautiful moment. Let’s not ruin it with you speaking.

D: (Sigh)

A: Cheers, D.