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

point of fact—fine, with Sheila! She was far from anxious—to be introduced, to the dreaded inside, of a “stupid jail cell”!

She was startled, when the phone—in the center of the table—rang! The officer answered, grunted a couple of times—then, handed the receiver to his, twisting-in-her-chair, charge.

“Hull… hullo?” Sheila murmured—into the, suddenly-very-heavy, phone.

“Sheila?” It was her brother. “Sheila? Is that you?”

“Yeah, ‘Stosh’! Yeah! It’s me!”

“You don’t sound like you.”

“I wonder why that is,” she responded—sarcasm cascading, from her raspy voice.

“Man, Sheila! You’ve really gone… and done it… this time!”

“So I’ve been told! Look, ‘Stosh’! You gotta bail my ass, outta here!”

“Sorry, Sis! This time… you’re on your own!”

“On my fucking own? What do ya mean . . . on my own?”

“What do I have? An impediment of speech? What I mean . . . is I’m not gonna bail your sorry, thieving, ass, outta there!”

“You… you’re not? ‘Stosh’! Why… why would you do this to me?”

“Me? You did it… to yourself! Did it to your-own-self… Old Girl! You went ahead… and did it, to your-own-self! Now, you gotta live! Live… with the consequences!”

“Yeah, ‘Stosh’ . . . but, this isn’t…”

“Sheila? For your whole life . . . your whole damn life . . . you’ve been playing both ends to the middle! Making a buck! Taking a buck! Any way you could! Didn’t matter… not to you . . . didn’t matter, who you were screwing! Literally . . . in the case, of good ol’ Doctor Keltner! And what you did . . . did to poor Jason . . . that was beyond sinful! You exploited the hell out of him! Exploited the shit out of him! Your own son! No wonder the kid took off! He should-a done that… hell… years ago! I was surprised… that he hadn’t split! Hadn’t gotten the hell out . . . a long time ago! A helluva long time ago!”

“Look, ‘Stosh’!”

“No, Sis! You look! It’s about time that you figured out that you don’t really have the world! Not by the balls! It just seemed that way! You always did . . . whatever it was . . . that you had to do! Just to get by! Forget any thought… of ever getting off, your incarcerated ass! Don’t even think, about going out… and actually working, for a damn living! As long as you could screw somebody, out of something… both figuratively, and literally… that was your game! That was your life! It was all bullshit then! And it’s all bullshit now!”

“‘Stosh’! It wasn’t like that… at all!”

“Bullshit! I don’t know how many pieces of ass, it ever took… for you to get that phony sawbones, Keltner, to fake that outrageous prognosis! But, you sure didn’t…”

“‘Stosh’! Listen to me! I was hurt! Hurt bad! And no one would… no one would help me! I had to do… had really to do, you know… had to do something!”

“That’s bullshit, Sis! There were a lot of us… all of us… all willing to help! When some of us saw… when we finally realized . . . that you weren’t gonna lift a damn finger, to help yourself, well I, for one, decided to get the hell off your never-ending pity potty! It just took some of is… like, for example, Debbie . . . a little bit longer! A little longer… than others… to catch on!”

“Aw come on, ‘Stosh’! You’re my brother! My big brother! You’ve got to! Got to help me!”

“I never did figure out,” he was ignoring this latest plea. “Never did figure out,” he repeated, “what that asshole, Manny, could do for you! What he ever did for you! To get you to spread, for him! And for as long, as you did! And, hell, as often, as you did!”

“I only… only… only entertained Manny, for one reason! To be certain… that Jason could keep his job there! Keep his job, y’know, at that freaking coffee shop!”

“That’s also bullshit! I’ve stopped in there… both Wanda and I, have eaten there… often enough! Often enough… to where we could see that Jason was more than just a little bit competent! Although… I’m sure that you did your damndest to convince him otherwise! Manny wasn’t going to let your son go… whether you were boffing him, or not! Now, do you want to tell me… what it was that Manny was contributing, to the noble cause? I’m guessing that it was money! Although… as big, of a cheapskate, as he is… I don’t know how much that could’ve been!”

“Well, he did throw me a buck or two, y’know. Every now and then. And… from time to time… he’d, you know, bring me a pizza, or something.”

“A pizza? They don’t even make pizzas… at the coffee shop!”

“I know. That’s what made him a little bit special! He’d get me a ‘The Works’ pizza… from Papa Antonio’s, over there, on Telegraph. He’d bring it over… and we’d, you know, we’d share pizza, with one another!”

“And then, you’d share something else with him!”

“Well, yeah. He was being nice… awfully nice . . . to me! And, if he wanted to go ahead… and leave a twenty-dollar bill, on the dresser… well, far be it, from me, to…”

“It’s always out… out, of your hands! Isn’t it, Sheila? You are never responsible! Ever! Never responsible… for anything! Not responsible… for shit! Wanda tells me that you said, that the people who owned the Buick… who own the Buick… that they did you in! They screwed you! By leaving the damn keys . . . leaving ’em, in the car!”

“Well, y’know, if they’d have gone ahead… and taken ’em out, as they should have… then, there wouldn’t have been any problem! Would there? Answer me! Would there?”

“No. Certainly not! Not, of course… till you found another car… with the keys in it! Might not be quite so opulent… as the Buick! But, you’d have muddled through . . . somehow!” He’d coated those last three words—in a sickening, syrup-laden, overdramatic, tone. “That’s because,” he went on, “because you’re a equal-opportunity crook! No prejudice… in your heart and soul! No, sir! Not ol’ Sheila! And… as for the license plates you stole . . . from the Church’s parking lot! They were just sitting there! Of course, they were bolted down… on someone’s