you can get used to anything after a while. Where you from?”
“I live in Falling Rock now.”
“How come I don’t know you?”
“I married Randall Hutchings. We moved here last year, but we didn’t last. I opened a beauty shop and I got the house, so I thought I’d stay. Give small-town life a try.”
“Why’d Randy move back here?”
“Lost his job. He’s a construction contractor, but nothing’s being built right now.”
“Yeah, lots of folks are moving home. Economy’s bad all over.”
“What is it you do?”
“I own a taxidermy shop.”
“You stuff animals?”
“And snakes and fish.”
“You ever done a dog?”
“No. But I could.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But that might be kind of weird.”
Shooters began another game. Roger leaned in toward Bootsie.
“What’s your name?”
“Justine Brooks. Some people call me Bootsie.”
“Why’s that?”
“Cause I had a pair of white go-go boots when I was a kid that I wore every day until my feet were about to bust out of them.”
“So you was always a fancy dresser?”
“You making fun of me?”
“No. So what happened between you and Randy?”
“I kicked him out because he cheated on me. But we were done by then anyway. We both knew it. You married?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Figures.”
Roger balanced his shotgun in the crook of his arm with the barrel once again resting on his boot hook. He took out his earplugs. “Where’s your house?”
“Way out Lemmons Bend Road.”
“Yeah? How about that? That’s where I live. I’m Roger Lemmons. My people all lived out that way at one time.”
“You country folks like to bunch up, don’t you?”
“Now you’re making fun of me.”
“Just making an observation.”
“You and Harley together?”
“Just tonight.”
“Sounds good.”
“When are these things usually over?”
“Harley never leaves till the end. Around midnight or one.”
A clay pigeon exploded twenty feet from the target house.
“I always stay up late,” she said.
The taillights on Harley’s truck blinked in and out of trees and bends in the road. Roger let them get ahead, but when a straight stretch came, Roger could see Bootsie’s outline in oncoming headlights. She flicked a cigarette out her window and a tumble of sparks hit the road. He followed them through the creeping traffic in town. Midnight, and a few teenagers were still out. Roger nodded to a couple of girls poised on the tailgate of a truck. Limp hair framed pale faces and black-rimmed eyes. One giggled and coyly leaned her head on the shoulder of the other girl’s blue satin jacket.
“Hey, girls,” he said. He was feeling reckless, energized. “Hey, I’ll be back later.”
“You wish, grandpa,” the one in the jacket said.
When Harley headed out Lemmons Bend Road, Roger hung back and let them get out of sight. He sped past his house, his truck’s muffler an unmistakable sound to anyone inside. Light bled from the small rectangular basement window where his son was most likely watching television with that cute redheaded girlfriend of his; Will was probably getting more action than Roger had in years. Down the road about a dozen miles, Roger pulled into a gray, weathered barn and cut the engine. After a while, Harley’s truck rolled past and Roger smiled to himself. Harley Jones would be the one spanking the lonely monkey tonight. It had been hard for Roger not to jerk off while he was waiting, but he wanted to fuck this woman. He wanted to fuck her good for all the bad fucks he’d had from that cold-fish wife of his.
But that wasn’t exactly fair, was it? Virginia hadn’t always been so cold. She had tried to love him in the beginning. Her heart just wasn’t in it. She was devoted, a good mother and wife in most ways that counted, always concerned with responsibilities. She just didn’t love him. Had never loved him, so what difference did it make if he screwed this woman tonight?
Bootsie’s house was snugged up to the road with no garage and no way to pull around back, but he didn’t care. He didn’t give a shit about anything right now. The porch light flicked on and Bootsie opened the door.
“Hello there, stranger,” she said. “Come on in.”
Roger followed her back to the kitchen where she handed him a beer. He didn’t usually drink much, but he gulped the beer and threw the can in the sink. Bootsie unbuttoned her tight floral blouse and her nipples were pressed into a silky, see-through bra.
“Come here,” he said. He pulled her bra down and she spilled out, round and full. He didn’t kiss her, but he watched her cherry mouth quiver, all wet with gloss as he slowly twisted her nipples.
“You want to hurt me?” she asked.
“Maybe.”
She unzipped him, knelt on the floor and took him between her lips. Her tongue was like silk, like the wettest dream he’d ever had. He thought about the girl in the shiny jacket as he watched himself move in and out of Bootsie’s red mouth.
6
Squirrels ran around a spotted sycamore, their claws scratching and scratching the scaly bark. Suddenly, they leapt to a sweet gum branch and sticky pods dropped, leaving thin hollow tunnels in the snow.
“Look—mistletoe.” Kerry pointed to green bunched high in bare branches. “Gimme a kiss.”
“If you teach me how to drive,” Shannon said.
“Sure enough. We could practice in that field.” He pointed to a pasture where a couple of dozen Herefords stood motionless in white up to their knees. “That way, you couldn’t run over nothing.”
She brushed her lips lightly across his cheek.
“Well, that’s the sorriest kiss I ever did get,” he said.
She laughed swirls of steam. Kerry had been coming around for supper a night or two each week. They had sneaked around last fall, but after Christmas they started dating and Virginia did nothing to stop them. Her mother had sort of let go now that Aunt Patsy lived with them and their dad wasn’t around anymore.
“I get my learner’s permit this summer.”
“If you pass the test.”
“Like I won’t pass that test.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to be a senior next year.”
“I know. Everybody else in my class is already driving. Almost makes me wish I hadn’t skipped a grade.”
“You’re so smart you couldn’t help it.” Kerry pushed his hand underneath her jacket and brushed his gloves against her breasts.
“Stop it. That’s cold!”
“Okay. Get on top of me.” He grinned. “I always wanted to say that.”
“Shut