Ravens. Part 2

Jonah said, "Where you going? You doing lesbo stuff? Hey, I'm a d.y.k.e too." They ignored him. They went out to the yard (weeds, beer kegs in the weeds, a rusted weedwhacker) and slid the door shut.

Tara said, "Sup?"

Clio said, "Sup with you you? Sup with all this I'm too busy, I'm too busy I'm too busy, I'm too busy s.h.i.+t? 'Cause what you're doing is like, I'm not your b.i.t.c.h anymore?" s.h.i.+t? 'Cause what you're doing is like, I'm not your b.i.t.c.h anymore?"

"Well no, I really have been busy -"

"Rat, don't lie to me. Just tell me. You guys win the lottery?" Meteor cras.h.i.+ng. Try to keep your wits. Try to look bewildered. "What?"

"Do not not lie to me. You're a terrible liar." lie to me. You're a terrible liar."

"I just don't understand what you're asking."

"Laurie Ma.s.sey told me you guys won the Max-a-Million jackpot."

"The what?"

Enough variations on what. what. Fight back or you're finished. "Is she, like, joking? Is she nuts?" Fight back or you're finished. "Is she, like, joking? Is she nuts?"

Said Clio, "Apparently your brother told some kid y'all had won it."

Clio was a big girl, striking, with tattoos up and down her arms and a silver serpent that looped through her cheek. Her stare was demanding. Tara loved her, and hated to lie to her. But she'd made a solemn pact with her family: we won't tell anyone anyone. If Jase had broken this vow, that was Jase's business, but Tara wasn't going to let her family down. She met Clio's gaze and said, "My little brother is delusional delusional. As well you know."

"Well, somebody somebody won the thing." won the thing."

"Yeah? Not us."

"But here you've gone into hiding and all -"

"Hiding? For s.h.i.+t's sake, dude, I'm just busy busy. I just got out of the bank. You think I'd go work at that bank if I'd just won like all the money in the world?"

Clio took a long thoughtful pull on her cigarette. She said, "It's just, if you had had won, I'd be so happy for you I'd be peeing my pants. But if you're like, hiding this from me? And if it's like I'm won, I'd be so happy for you I'd be peeing my pants. But if you're like, hiding this from me? And if it's like I'm losing losing you or something - then I don't know what I'd do. I'd kill myself. I mean it. I would." you or something - then I don't know what I'd do. I'd kill myself. I mean it. I would."

"Oh shut up. You're not gonna lose me. Who's my b.i.t.c.h?"

She put her hand on Clio's neck.

Said Clio, "Let go of me now now, degenerate."

Tara said, "You'd love it."

Said Clio, "Hey, guess who got his snake milked last night?"

"Oh G.o.d. Not that FLETCY guy? Oh G.o.d. That's too gross."

"You have no frikkin idea idea."

I just have to keep this safe for another day or two. Then we'll let the truth out and I'll take her to New York first and then Paris, and it'll be the sweetest trip of a lifetime and she'll forgive me, she has to; she loves me. And anyway winning the jackpot means you get everything everything; love, riches, dreams, forgiveness, sky, ocean, shoes, power over the Mrs. Potros, everything, nothing denied: this is how I intend to proceed.

Shaw surfed. The motel room had a back door which he left wide open, and the outside came pouring in - the heat, pollen, salt air, and some heartbreaking vineflower that was blooming just outside the door. All this was mixing with the cinderblock-mold smell of the motel itself; also there were the shouts and sudden splays of music from unsavory folk trawling past on Rt. 17. It was paradise. He took deep guzzles from his Wendy's ice tea, and searched the web. surfed. The motel room had a back door which he left wide open, and the outside came pouring in - the heat, pollen, salt air, and some heartbreaking vineflower that was blooming just outside the door. All this was mixing with the cinderblock-mold smell of the motel itself; also there were the shouts and sudden splays of music from unsavory folk trawling past on Rt. 17. It was paradise. He took deep guzzles from his Wendy's ice tea, and searched the web.

Cheryl at that convenience store had said that he, whoever he he was, had a copier store. Shaw went to Yellowbook and found there were only two independent copier businesses in Brunswick, Georgia: Murray Copiers and Boatwright Office Supply and Copiers. was, had a copier store. Shaw went to Yellowbook and found there were only two independent copier businesses in Brunswick, Georgia: Murray Copiers and Boatwright Office Supply and Copiers.

He clicked on Murray's, which was painfully slow to load, and when it did there was a notice from '06: Dear Customer. Due to rising costs and foreign compet.i.tion...

Belly-up. Gone.

He went back and clicked the link for Boatwright Office Supply and Copiers, and got a pic of Mitch Boatwright, CEO. Studio halo. But with slightly bulging eyes that made him too bulldoggish, too eager looking. And that shadow in your ear, Mitch - is that earhair earhair? In your business photo? Are you a simpleton?

More important: are you my quarry?

mitch boatwright brunswick ga brought him oceans of useless stuff. For example he discovered, in the 1870 City Directory for Scranton, Pennsylvania, that Henry Boatwright had been an ironworker, and that Greta Schuleit, laundress, hailed from Brunswick, Germany. He wondered if they had ever met. Were they lovers? Did she come to his room above the ironworks?

I better focus here.

Look at this: "Joseph Boatwright deceased 1892 survived by his wife Kathleen, two sons, Abner and Edgar, also by his daughter Louise who is married to Dr. Mitch.e.l.l Vermillion of Brunswick, Georgia."

Vermillion: now there's a name. Should I change my name to Shaw Vermillion?

He kept floating. Boatwright after Boatwright, but most of them were in the ground: in the graveyards of Brunswick, Georgia, Brunswick, Maine, and New Brunswick, New Jersey. And the few that were living were uselessly faraway. He placed half a dexie on his tongue and let it dissolve. It tasted like a Sweet Tart but drier, more businesslike. He drank from his Wendy's giant cup of tea.

Behind him, Romeo, sound asleep again, started grinding his teeth.

That b.i.t.c.h Cheryl had said, "They go to Renewal." What would Renewal be? Some kind of church? Or gym, or club or something? He typed in renewal brunswick ga and found he was right the first time: the first two hundred entries were for the Faith Renewal Church on Altama Avenue. He typed faith renewal mitch boatwright brunswick - and was granted a vision: A girl, on stage. Tara, age 12. Daughter of Mitch and Patsy Boatwright. She was wearing donkey ears. It was Christmas 1999, at the Faith Renewal Church of Brunswick, Georgia. The girl was kind of skinny but what intense eyes!

Tara. He loved the Deep-South cheesiness of the name.

She'd be twenty-one or twenty-two now.

tara boatwright facebook But Facebook's Tara Boatwright was an old crone from Perth, Australia.

Maybe, because this was a small town in Georgia, his his Tara hadn't gotten around to Facebook yet? Tara hadn't gotten around to Facebook yet?

tara brunswick ga mys.p.a.ce And that was it.

She was now twenty-one. Her handle was johnny's girl - the page was backdropped with a sprawling Johnny Depp. He went right away to her pics. Those eyes again. Oh my G.o.d. Curious, large, innocent. Though not too too innocent. In one beach pic she was turning to look back at the camera and you saw that not only did she have a devastating a.s.s; she also knew what you were looking at. Another shot had her wearing smudged mascara and a black choker and black bangs. Severity in her jawline. She was representing danger. G.o.d. Will you fight me, Tara? He grinned. I imagine you will. innocent. In one beach pic she was turning to look back at the camera and you saw that not only did she have a devastating a.s.s; she also knew what you were looking at. Another shot had her wearing smudged mascara and a black choker and black bangs. Severity in her jawline. She was representing danger. G.o.d. Will you fight me, Tara? He grinned. I imagine you will.

Shot of a rock concert with some goth girlfriend: Drive Fast & Shut Your Eyes. in Savannah. With Clio! Favorite band evvvuh!

Another shot, also with Clio and some other girls: CRUNK POSSE!

Shot of her little brother Jase.

Various boys. James, a dull boy, and Wynn, equally dull. No, maybe Wynn was one degree cooler, s.h.a.ggier. James was posing woodenly in front of a church bus.

Various shots of other relatives and friends.

Two somewhat strained poses with her father, Mitch. Only one with her mom.

But more than a dozen pics of her with her grandmother Nell.

The two of them laughing, waltzing arm in arm: Me and Nell in New Orleans. Then they were in Tunica, Miss, before a row of one-arm bandits. Looked like Tara was only fourteen or so - had Nell sneaked her into a gambling joint?

I LOVE:.

John Christopher Depp, Jr.

Nell Biking to the beach Our Lord!

Mom and Dad and Jase Clio BarbeQue shrimp at Southern Soul Golden retrievers Frida Kahlo Cousin Alfred Being scared MOVIES: Anything with JCD, Jr!

Also Donnie Darko, Kill Bill 1 & 2, The Pa.s.sion of the Christ, Ghost World.

Hot hot summer days Had she really written Being scared Being scared?

Everything I need, thought Shaw, is right here. All that the girl cares about, all she prizes. Into the basilica of Tara comes the beast. The pillager, the barbarian.

He looked down and saw that his hand was shaking. He pressed his palm into the corner of his desk, to steady it. But it kept shaking.

Why? Because I'm terrified? Probably. Yes. But so what? I can't live the way I've been living, not another hour. Not as a gonking field mouse for Dayton Techworld. Not another second second.

BOOKS: The Bell Jar. The Wind in the Willows. The Monkey's Paw, by W. W. Jacobs. BOOKS: The Bell Jar. The Wind in the Willows. The Monkey's Paw, by W. W. Jacobs.

Being scared.

GOAL IN LIFE: Get out of the Wick.

The Wick? What could the Wick be? And why be so intent on escaping it?

Could "the Wick" represent time going up in smoke? The grindingness, the ephemerality, of day-to-day life?

Oh. Wait. Of course. Bruns-wick.

The tea was sweet and dilute; it slapped against his gullet and was about the best thing he'd ever tasted. The feeling in his limbs was cool, stony. He brushed his fingers against his thigh and his own touch was distant to him. I believe if she crosses me I'll be happy happy to let her feel some of what I'm capable of. to let her feel some of what I'm capable of.

In her JOURNAL, in an entry from a week ago, she'd written: Worrying last night and once I start worrying I can't stop and cant sleep. is everything in the world about money? But Nell never had money &she's so happy. I want to marry edward scissorhands. I want to BE edward scissorhands.

She also wrote, and this came as a shock to him: Do not mess with the people I love because I will CUT you and no one will ever fix you again, I'm serious.

He consulted 411.com. There was a Nell Boatwright on Egmont Street, and a Mitch.e.l.l Boatwright at 38 Oriole Road.

On Birdseye, there were aerial views of Brunswick that seemed to have been made on a day as sepulchral as this one. Scattering of cars on Rt. 341, and on Gloucester Street, but most of the streets were completely empty, lifeless, not a soul in sight.

38 oriole road. 38 oriole road.

Birdseye took him in a great arc over Brunswick, the chemical plant, the railroad tracks, the hospital, and then softly downward. Descending as though on spidersilk into a neighborhood of middling prosperity. Till he was dangling just above the Boatwrights' home. A brick ranch house, no more or less soulless than the houses to either side. The oval blob in back might be a kiddie pool. One spindly tree out front. Looked like a hedge on one side; on the other a wooden fence.

He was so juiced he had to get up and walk around.

He came back to the laptop. Look at that, he thought. That house - his workshop. Jesus. Could he really do this? He had to. He had to live. He couldn't not-live any longer. He knew that if there were any resistance, it would have to be crushed mercilessly. If they challenged him, he'd have to kill their loved ones while they watched. And how would he withstand their looks of horror? By tapping into a vein of steadfastness and wisdom. By knowing what he needed. What he needed was beauty. A life of pure beauty, nothing less. He'd pay any price for it.

OK.

I'm ready then.

But Romeo? What about Romeo?

He turned and looked at Romeo asleep on the bed. Whimpering in his dreams like a wounded dog.

Tara, the moment she shut her car door, heard a whoop from inside the bungalow and cats meowing in concert, and then Nell came out to the front porch to greet her. "Well h.e.l.lo, the moment she shut her car door, heard a whoop from inside the bungalow and cats meowing in concert, and then Nell came out to the front porch to greet her. "Well h.e.l.lo, ba ba-by!" Her voice was hoa.r.s.e, crackerish, high. She had a powerful embrace. She held Tara and they rocked back and forth. Tara always thought her grandmother's hair smelled like popcorn.

Nell dragged her into the kitchen to show off her new toy: a singing buck's head. It had a six-point rack and it sang "Killing Me Softly with His Song." It kept rolling its eyes toward a trophy fish on the opposite wall - which sang back, "Hook, Line and Sinker." Nell cackled wildly.

Then she and Tara sat at the kitchen table and ate crabcakes and drank Yellowtail s.h.i.+raz. The cats writhed at their feet. Tara thought of the jackpot, and waves of bliss washed over her.

She asked Nell how school had gone today. Nell was sixty-two and semi-retired, but she still taught a summer school program called Great Expectations, for kids who had no expectations at all. Nell said, "Well, Jeremiah tells me he's been suspended. I say, 'Why, Jeremiah?' He says, ' 'Cause I rose up rose up against Mr. Briggs.' I mean, he's but thirteen years old, but he's about as big as Mr. Briggs already. Twice my size. I taught his father. I taught his against Mr. Briggs.' I mean, he's but thirteen years old, but he's about as big as Mr. Briggs already. Twice my size. I taught his father. I taught his grandfather grandfather. Both of 'em hooligans, and Jeremiah's a hooligan too. I say, 'Jeremiah, you better not rise up against me me.' He says, 'I ain't never gonna rise up against you you, Miz Boatwright. I'm scared scared a you.' " a you.' "

She howled with pleasure.

They finished their crabcakes and cleaned the table; and then played pot-limit seven stud -their custom on Thursday afternoons.

They each had private sacks filled with coins and currency of various countries. The Romanian ten-bani coin was worth a quarter. That old Chinese coin with the hole in the middle was valued at fifty cents. An ersatz Confederate dollar was worth a dime. But the game wasn't all whimsy: if Nell wanted to bully you, she'd throw down legal tender - a five or a ten or even a twenty - and you'd better stand up to her. You were permitted to fold from prudence but never timorousness. If she caught you shrinking from a fight, she'd turn surly, withering; she'd send you home early. coin was worth a quarter. That old Chinese coin with the hole in the middle was valued at fifty cents. An ersatz Confederate dollar was worth a dime. But the game wasn't all whimsy: if Nell wanted to bully you, she'd throw down legal tender - a five or a ten or even a twenty - and you'd better stand up to her. You were permitted to fold from prudence but never timorousness. If she caught you shrinking from a fight, she'd turn surly, withering; she'd send you home early.

But so long as you fought back you couldn't lose. Even if Tara dropped sixty or a hundred dollars in a single evening, it would all be returned to her. When she opened her next tuition bill, she'd find it magically marked PAID; and next time she came to Nell's she'd find her sack was brimful again, with new and ever odder coins.

This afternoon, Grandmother had a rampage of good fortune. Tara was dealt a straight, but Nell topped it with a full house. Tara picked up a set, but Nell beat it with another boat. Just one of those days. Nell was giddy. She tsked, "Poor poor unlucky child."

When she dealt, the cards flew from her fingers.

The cat called Horace Jackal jumped up on the table, and she swept him off with an outstretched arm, without looking. She shouted at Tara. "Bet! It's your turn! Bet or get out!"

In one hand, all four of Nell's up-cards were hearts. After she took the pot, she showed her hole cards: all all hearts. Seven of them. "Blood everywhere!" She was already tipsy. "Reminds me of my prom night." hearts. Seven of them. "Blood everywhere!" She was already tipsy. "Reminds me of my prom night."

"What happened on your prom night, Grandmother dear?"

Nell shuffled and said, "Oh, well, my date and I, we went to his car to make out? And I was so drunk, and it was so dark in his backseat, I didn't realize my period had started."

"Oh my G.o.d."

"Oh my G.o.d is right. We open the door and the light comes on, and it was like the Manson family had been in there. It was like helter-skelter in there. It was the single most mortifying moment of my life."

She shuffled again and again. She held her tongue between her teeth, like a child.

Tara asked, "Who was your date? Was that Grandpa Bill?"

"Nah, I hadn't even met Bill then. Just some local yokel." She dealt. But she was still lost in that memory. "Actually, you know the guy. You know who it was? - it was Burris Jones."

Said Tara, "The old cop? The one who goes to our church?"