Locomotive to the Past, George Schultz [snow like ashes series txt] 📗

fuckin’ now! Your kid’ll probably be home… in a little while! He hasn’t got balls enough… to stay out all night, anyway! But, mark my words, Sheila! If his pansy little ass isn’t at work tomorrow… and fuckin’ on time . . . he’s fuckin’ gone! And you? You are already fucking gone… as of right now! This goddam minute! Goodnight, Sweetcheeks!”

With that, he’d slammed down the phone! He turned to Joyce (who’d—“incredibly”—not undone one additional button) and he’d, hoarsely, mumbled, “Now… lessee. Where the hell were we?”

Debbie Lawson had just stepped out of the shower—when her phone rang.

“Dammit,” she muttered. “How do they know? How can they know… when I’m taking a shower? It’s got to be some kind of conspiracy.” She laughed—heartily—at the last observation. Then grinned even more broadly—and added, “Yep. That’s it. A damn conspiracy. They must know . . . know exactly . . . when I’m naked. Maybe everyone knows! Everyone… in the whole damn world! Seems that way.”

She hurried—still unclothed—down the hall, of her moderate-sized bungalow. Located a few miles—from the dilapidated Rutkowski apartment. Bursting into the front room, she suddenly realized—that she’d not closed the drapes, over the massive picture window. The one—that looked out, onto the semi-busy street! She debated—ever so briefly—whether she should lope, “way over to the other side of the room”, and close them!

Or should she simply “just answer the stupid phone”? It was clattering its ringing, incessant, “salutation”—for the sixth or seventh (or eighth, or ninth) ring already! The call must be important—for the “stupid thing”, to have “jangled” so insistently! And for so long!

Decision made: She picked up the “stupid” phone. Damn the window! Give the folks a treat!

“Debbie! Debbie? Debbie, I can’t… can’t find Jason! Can’t find him… not anywhere! Would he be… could he be… over there?”

“I hope not. I just stepped out of the shower. Don’t have any clothes on. What’s the matter? Did you guys have a falling out? Another one? Did he run away? Finally?”

“No! Yes! Shit! I don’t know! I just about had to throw him out . . . this morning! To get his ass… off to work! All he wanted to do . . . was to… to just sit there, y’know! Sit there… and watch the silly-assed television! Those freaking planes! Into those freaking buildings! And so, finally, I had to, y’know…”

“Well, that was pretty important stuff, y’know.” Her tone mocked Sheila—markedly. “Pretty heady stuff… coming out, of that silly-assed television! The bastards did fly a couple of seven-forty-sevens… into a couple of buildings, in New York! Big buildings! Lots of people! A hell of a lot of people! And they’re all dead, now! The buildings are no longer with us! Neither are a couple-or-three-thousand people! That’s not even counting the Pentagon! And those poor people, in…”

“Oh, big damn deal. What has that got to do… with us? Anyway, I just about had to insist . . . that he get his ass on, out to work! Took me even shutting-off the damn set… to get him to even think about leaving the place!”

“And now? Now… he hasn’t come back? Did he ever go to work? Ever get there? Ever show up . . . at the damn restaurant?”

“Yeah. Yeah… he went. Finally! Finally got his ass there! And then, Manny… Manny’s the manager there, y’know… Manny sent him the hell home! Sent him home, dammit! Sent him home… freaking early.”

“I know who… I know exactly who… Manny is, Sheel! Why? Why did dear ol’ Manny… send him home? I’m assuming that it must’ve been… before his shift was over! What on earth happened?”

“Oh, Jason… I guess he was just being some kind of a little piss-pot. The same, that he was… the way he was being… being around here, this morning. Was bitching . . . over there… I guess! Pissing and moaning… about the New York thing! So, Manny went and sent him the hell home! Threw him the hell out . . . once the lunch crowd was done, I guess!”

“Only he never ‘got the hell’ home?”

“Yeah. No! He didn’t! He hasn’t! I don’t know where the hell he is! Where he could be! Listen, Debbie. Listen… I’m worried about him! Worried as hell!”

“Yeah! Losing an immediate paycheck! That ain’t no fun!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, come off it, Sheila! You know damn well . . . what I mean by that! You’re only worried… about the damn money! The piddling little amount . . . that he brings in! You’ve taken advantage of him! A God-awful advantage of him! For all these years, Sheel. Dammit, I’m not blind, y’know! I don’t have to be a damn rocket scientist… to know how badly, you’ve exploited that kid! For years now. Years! Years, and years… and years! Maybe… don’tcha know… it just could be, that he just got freaking sick of it! It’s possible, y’know! It’d be about damn time! Was today payday . . . by any chance? Is that . . . why you’re so disconsolate? So pissed off?”

“No… for your information… it’s not fucking payday,” Sheila mimicked—in a high-pitched, nasal, falsetto.

“Well, I’d have given him a little more credit . . . if it had been payday! Would’ve respected him more . . . a helluva lot more… if, and when, he’d picked a day, when he gets his check! If he’d have waited till then . . . to go ahead, and then check out!” She laughed—loudly—then, continued. “Cash the damn thing… he should-a done… and then, freaking split! Just get the hell out! Sooner or later, he’s going to figure it all out! Put together, all the bullshit! What you’ve been doing to him! How you’ve been screwing him over! Really screwing him! And for all this time! And then? And then, he’s just going to up and…”

“Fat lot of good it did me… to call you! I’m missing my son . . . my only son… and you’re giving me all kinds, of fucking lectures!”

“Well, he’s not here! But… even if he were . . . I don’t know as I’d tell you that he’s here! I hope… I just hope… that, sooner or later, he’ll come up with balls enough! Balls enough… to tell you where to stick your