A Good Ole Honky Tonk

“Rick! Rick!”

Bullets whizzed by Rick and Gene. The explosion had gotten the better of them. Gene was panting heavily, trying to figure out what to do. They were well prepared for supposed hicks.

“Rick! Rick!”

Rick looked at Gene and then over to the barn. Avoiding what he could of the bullets and using the flipped tractor as cover. They needed to do something drastic if they were going to get out of this.

“Radio Tango. I’m going in.” And with that, Rick lifted his eye to his rifle’s scope and charged forward, running straight for the open barn doors.

“Rick! Rick, wake the fuck up!”

A pasty man in a discount suit was standing in front of Rick. His arms awkwardly jutting out from his sides and snapping his fingers in front of Rick’s face.

“What?”

“Earth to Rick!”

“What do you want, Kyle?”

“The big man wants your reports!”

“They’re done. I handed them in this morning.”

“Oh well, you shouldn’t be sleeping on the job.”

“I guess I shouldn’t. I zoned off was trying to figure out that Mendelson case.”

“Well, don’t you worry about that case. I don’t want you slacking on the job. We don’t pay your old ass to lollygag.”

“You don’t pay me at all.”

“Someday, it’s gonna be me up there. Whatever, I’ll be working with the partners this afternoon. So I’m having my secretary send you anything that might come up.”

“That’s fine. I actually take care of my clients, so they don’t bother me much.”

“Whatever, I’m out.”

“Ok. Oh, and hey, Kyle. One last thing.”

“What’s up?”

Nothing really, but hey just, if you ever snap your fingers at me again, I’ll break your fucking hand. Have a good time with the partners.”

The phones were going off with transfers from Kyles’s office for the rest of the day. Meghan Ricks secretary had to miss her lunch to accommodate all the calls. Rick, for his part, was happy to take them. He advised, albeit poorly under the guise, that the advice was coming down from Kyle himself and that while Rick didn’t think it wise, he couldn’t possibly steal a client from his coworker. On his way out of the office, Rick wanted to invite Meghan to dinner, but she was not at her desk when he left. So he wrote her a note that Read: Join me for dinner to make up for lunch. Officer Jen’s in 30. I’ll be at the bar waiting with a martini. He knew she’d be there. She always was.

Rick walked around his 1957 baby blue convertible Belair. This was his pride and joy, the sum of his inheritance, really. For Rick, like so many others, his first car represented freedom, independence, and now his past. Rick lost his virginity in this car. He’d taken it bright and shiny to all those honky-tonks. And, when his father had passed, this was his last connection to him. Back before, everything got so complicated. The last vestiges of innocence infused in the panels, sown into the upholstery of this American dream. This is why every time he got in, he checked to make sure it was as clean and pure as those stained glass memories. Rick got into the beautiful piece of American machinery and revved up the engine. Pushing that engine, watching the needle on the RPMs just throttle and embracing the vibrations of old busters roar. Revving, revving with clarity. He could always think so much clearer when it was too loud for anything else. This was such a familiar rumble.

“Hey.”

“What the fuck!? Rick? What are you doing?

Rick was sitting in the back seat of a fancy Cadillac. Wearing a sleek green suit clearly splattered with blood, a pint of vodka in his lap, and a red-stained desert eagle in his hand. One of those aggressive hand canons that was more about sending a message than being clean and practical.

“Why’d you do it, Sarge?”

“Do wha….”

“Don’t you must know by know you’re not getting out of here alive. Might as well come clean. There’s a bottle of 12 year Mcclellan in the console. Thought it might be good for a final hoo-rah.”

“Rick, I have a family. I have kids.”

“And Gene! What about his kids? Huh? And Tango? And Chris! He’d take his whole family to feed the fucking needy.”

Sarge suddenly understood. This was, in fact, it. The end. A moment that for all these years of subterfuge and manipulation was so easy. He grabbed the bottle and pulled off the top with his teeth, breathed out heavily, and just relaxed.

“I didn’t give the order, you know.”

“Who did?”

“You know how the association feels about loose ends.”

“The association trained us to be loyal and deadly. After all the things we did. Why was that mission it for us? Why couldn’t you bind us to secrecy like every other fucking time?”

“You know Tango is really fucking good.”

“She’s the fucking best scumbag. But that’s not what I’m asking.”

“What are you gonna do, Rick? Are you gonna kill all of us?”

“All of you? No, fuck no. I don’t stand a chance. But I’ll definitely at least get you.”

“Hey! This isn’t my fault!”

“Does it matter?”

“Hey!”

“Stop squirming.”

“Hey!”

Rick looked over at the passenger window. Meghan was there tapping loudly and gesticulating to open the door. He had been so distracted he didn’t realize he had been holding down the pedal the entire time. Meghan was in a new skirt and touched up makeup.

“Hey! Where’d you go? I’ve been here for like a minute.”

“Sorry, this Mendelson case is really getting to me.”

“I wouldn’t worry about Kyle’s gonna take it over for sure. You weren’t planning on making me drive, were you? Officer Jen’s Martinis are strong.”

“No, I guess I thought you’d uber.”

“Uber? Please, I’m a lady.”

Officer Jen’s was a neighborhood bar and restaurant that had the best martinis in the lower district. Although Meghan and Rick liked it because they had secluded booths where they could get handsy without judgment. It was business as usual for them Martinis, Buratta appetizer, Martinis, Crab appetizer, Martinis, Parking lot spliff, making out, Martinis, and the inevitable honesty hour.

“And how’s pooky holding up?”

“He’s good catching the rats around the property.”

“Is that normal for them?”

“No idea, but I’ve offered him all kinds of snacks, but he really only wants what he catches.”

“Ugh, men do know a good thing when they’ve got it.”

“You know he’s a great listener, though.”

“So, what the fuck? When am I gonna meet him?”

“Pooky? I mean, he’s around when he’s around I can’t tell him when to show.”

“Yeah, but when can we fuck at your place?”

“I mean, I live far, you know that.”

“And where is that?”

“In the country.”

“See what I mean. Do you have a wife? Why are you trying so hard to keep me hidden?”

“I’m not trying to keep you hidden. It’s just I don’t have a nice place, and it’s far. I don’t even have central heating.”

“You could keep me warm.”

“You know what, fine. Come over, and I’ll even lick your toes just how you like.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty into you.”

“Oh gosh, you’re such a charmer.”

“I’ll meet you there then.”

“Just drive over with me.”

“Don’t be stupid. I don’t have an overnight bag. I’m not going over there and have stanky breath and ugly underwear. Just text me the address. “

Rick kissed her on the lips and grabbed lipstick out of her bag. Then laughed as he wrote the address on Meghan’s palm. She shook her head and laughed off the strange interaction. But took off in a Lyft for her night bag. Rick paid the bill and headed home. To that old country house he’d decided to buy and restore. Week after week now, for almost two years, he’d been making improvements all by himself. Refurbishing the barn. Building fences and stringing lights. Outdoor wood panels and barbeques. It was becoming something out of his childhood—something straight from his dreams. Or nightmares.

Which he knew all too well. Rick carried all those ghosts with him. He had too. He had to take them, so they didn’t linger in some trap house. That they weren’t stuck with lawyers and intellectuals pretending to be out house fugitives. It was so loud that day. Bullets rattling off. Shrieks and screams echoing in the haystacks. Just rick in trench shooting and stabbing and Tango on the ridge clearing off danger. When everyone was dead. There was nothing. Just silence and silence and the smell of singed hairs and gun powder. Only the sensation of hard ground against Rick’s knees as he tried to make sense of it. A gentle and anxiety-ridden quiet. He almost lost it. Gave in to the murderous rage. If it hadn’t been for that call. For that woodland song that brought him back across the river Styx.

“Hoo.”

“Hoo.”

“Hoo.”

When Rick looked up from that Oak stump, he’d drifted into memories on. He saw the moon waxing bright and shining silver on his best friend—Pooky, the graying barn owl that came to call from time to time. Rick really loved the little guy though he had no idea how to treat him. The only thing that Rick knew is that It didn’t care much for bread and, for some reason, loved listening to Rick talk.

“Pooky. You’re here a little early. Season doesn’t usually bring you around for another couple of months. Everything good?”

“Hoo.”

“Who indeed, Pooks. You know I think I might have made a grave mistake.”

“Hoo.”

“Yeah, I agree. You know I’ve never been any good at the long game.”

“Hoo.”

Rick sat there, silently enjoying the company of his close friend and breathing in as deeply as possible. Grasping the gravity of his situation. He could run though there wasn’t much cover. He could try to reach the guns though that was slim. Tending to ghosts proved to be quite the burden.

“ You might as well come out. I could use someone to share this bottle with.”

“Damn it! How’d you know?”

“Come on, Tango. I could smell the Hoja Santa from a mile away.”

“Old habits die hard, I guess. So were you talking to the owl or the tree stump?”

“The owl.”

“What kind of owl is it?”

“I don’t know. Barn? I honestly am not much of an ornithologist.”

“You should be careful; owls can’t be trusted. It’s the form witches take.”

“Pooky? Nah, he’s on the level.”

“Can I show you something?”

“Are you gonna do it slowly and with your hands in the air?”

“Oh, come on, Tango, we both know that if they sent you, I don’t stand a chance.”

“I mean, Jesus Rick, did you have to kill all seven of them? Sarge and Monica, I get, but you must’ve known someone was coming.”

“Yeah. Well, can I show you something or not?”

“Sure.”

Rick walked towards the barn and, as he reached the sidewall, flipped a switch. Lights suddenly flickered and covered the hillside in incandescence—a soft orange glow. Rick smiled at Tango and reached for her hand. Tango understood, and as she walked towards him, the sound of good ole honky tonk flooded the wooden dance floor. They two-stepped for a little while until she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Can I say goodbye?”

“To Pooky? Sure.”

“Inside, I mean.”

“We both know there’s no one inside Meghan gave you up.”

“This is why we didn’t work out. You’re all here and now. The ghosts miss us too.”

“You’ll be with them soon enough.”

“You really were the best of us, babe.”

A single gunshot echoed through the forest. And Pooky perched above just watched.

“Hoo.”