Burn Scars, Eddie Generous [read full novel txt] 📗

nothing left out: a black crotchless teddy with garters, men’s edible underwear, and a refurbished sybian machine purchased from the estate of a dead pornographer. She then clarified the sybian for those who did not know—Danny knew what it was from Howard Stern—and that her husband had a frivolous Viagra prescription. Cary appeared visibly saddened by this last part as Linda spoke.

In the early evening, after adjusting the warehouse, Jim was to arrive at the Trent and proceed to become publically drunk, staying there until closing, making sure he was so visible nobody would forget him. At five, Danny and Craig—Craig would drive—were to park the fifty-three-foot trailer at the warehouse’s bay door. They would work for thirty minutes, cramming as much as they could within, in the limited time they had. At a quarter to six, they’d visit the Fall Street Café, have supper and a few beers, they’d then catch the movie Rock Star, starring Mark Wahlberg, at the Bijou Cinema—running time one hour, forty-six minutes. After that, they’d go to McDonald’s and sit in the bright dining area until the place closed at midnight. Also at five, Cary would be dealing with an especially irritating customer and a small refrigerator she’d purchased and scheduled for delivery. A saleswoman, in order to make the sale no doubt, had promised a delivery driver would install the unit, turn the direction of the fridge’s doors, and flip a wooden door in the customer’s pantry—the ancient hinge grooves were already there, though painted over, from a previous owner’s preference;  Linda had nailed this down with the customer over the phone. Cary would take his time with the arrangement. Once through, he’d drive back to work, clock out, and then head to Randy’s Home Cuisine & Bar. He’d eat supper in a booth on the restaurant side, asking for refills and dessert before leaving a hefty tip. He’d then move to a front and center barstool in the rear portion. The Leafs were scheduled to play and he’d be there until after the game was over, chatting it up with the regulars. At eleven, he’d go to Tim Horton’s for a coffee to interact with whoever was on the late shift and any customers he might recognize. He’d then head out of town, and at the underpass lot by the Edgar Park turnoff, he’d park his truck and run to the defunct Leon Automotive. Between five and ten-thirty, Rusty would go to the warehouse on foot, and load the trailer. He’d reset the alarm at ten-thirty with the numbers provided and take the truck to Leon Automotive to wait for Cary. After that, he’d drive Cary’s truck behind the rig, all the way to a satellite warehouse on the lakeside of Hamilton. A building belonging to Charles Ranger.

“Wait, can you find prices lower than Fast Charley’s? Noooo waaaay. That guy?” Rusty said, hands up in the crossing guard fashion. Fast Charley had regular spots on late night television and Sunday afternoon movies.

“That’s correct. There’s a reason his prices are unbeatable.” Linda still had her index finger pressed against a black and white map printed on letter size paper.

“But why doesn’t Cary just come get the truck from the warehouse?” Rusty said.

“Having everything down, having everything perfect; that’s why. People know Cary has driven truck before, they see him and they get thinking about it because they’ll recognize him and it’ll make sense. It only takes one screw up and that screw up stacks all the other potential screw ups into a very small pile.” Linda was so certain it was eerie. “Issues can act like dominoes and I’ve been waiting too damned long to not have every angle covered.”

Cary nodded, grinning. “It’s going to work,” he said.

“Okay, I guess, but how do I figure out driving the truck? Even if you say so, it can’t be that much like a tractor,” Rusty said.

“No trouble,” Cary said, tapping his temple with an index finger. “My brother put his old Freightliner out at the farm. It needs transmission work, but it’ll shift up to fourth gear, no high gears, but no worries.”

“Why no worries?” Rusty said.

“How fast you think you need to get going?” Danny said, huffing a breath from his nostrils.

Rusty shook his head. “How’d you come up with all this?”

Linda sneered. “I’ve had years to think about it.”

The group lulled at this point, sipping beers, fidgeting in their seats. Danny tossed a lighter above his lap over and over, as if needing a cigarette, but unwilling to step outside just yet. Craig finished a beer and burped, began peeling the free the label from the side of the bottle.

Finally, Rusty said, “So, how much?”

Craig looked up immediately, as if he’d been waiting for this question. “We each get thirteen thousand,” he said, maybe a little too quickly.

Rusty chewed his bottom lip, felt a smidge like he’d just stepped into The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly; spying the others like they were coming for his gold. This time only Cary wouldn’t look at him. “I’ll do it, but I want my fair share.”

“What?” Jim said.

“You’re getting more, I want the same as the rest of you,” Rusty said and then sipped. His head spun, but his body held steady. This was the heaviest of heavy.

“That’s the same!” Danny said, his light brown shades leaning into pinks. “That’s what we’re all getting!”

The door at the top of the stairs swung open and Craig’s wife hissed, “You will keep it down. The children are sleeping.” The door clicked closed.

Rusty held his ground, settled his gaze on Linda. She was the brains and he wasn’t about to be the ass end of anything for crumbs. “Fair share. I’m doing more work than the rest, I want my share.”

She licked behind her lips and picked up a pencil, started into the math longhand on