According to Chub’s orders, Shiner wasn’t supposed to talk to Amber except to give directions. He found this to be impossible. The longest and closest he’d ever been with such a beautiful girl was a thirty-second elevator ride with an oblivious stenographer at the Osceola County Courthouse. Shiner burned to hear everything Amber had to say—what stories she must have! Also, he felt crummy about poking her with the screwdriver. He longed to reassure her that he wasn’t some bloodthirsty criminal.
“I’m in junior college,” she volunteered, sending his heart airborne.
“Really?”
“Prelaw, but leaning toward cosmetology. Any advice?”
Now, what was he supposed to do? For all his crude faults, Shiner was essentially a polite young fellow. This was because his mother had flogged the rudeness out of him at an early age.
And it was rude, his mother always said, not to speak when one was spoken to.
So Shiner said to Amber: “Cosmetology—is that where they teach you to be a astronaut?”
She laughed so hard she nearly upended her bowl of minestrone. Shiner perceived that he’d said something monumentally stupid, but he wasn’t embarrassed. Amber had a glorious laugh. He’d have gladly continued to say dumb things all night long, just to listen to that laughter.
They’d stopped at a twenty-four-hour sub shop on the mainland, Shiner being in no hurry to get down to Jewfish Creek. It was possible his white brethren were already waiting there, but he wasn’t concerned. He wanted nothing to spoil these magical moments with Amber. In her skimpy Hooters uniform she was drawing avid stares from the dining public. Shiner despaired at the thought of turning her over to Chub.
She said, “What about you, Shiner? What do you do?”
“I’m in a militia,” he replied without hesitation.
“Oh wow.”
“Saving America from certain doom. They’s NATO troops gonna attack any day from the Bahamas. It’s what they call a international conspiracy.”
Amber asked who was behind it. Shiner said communists and Jews for sure, and possibly blacks and homos.
“Where’d you come up with this?” she said.
“You’ll find out.”
“So how big is this militia?”
“I ain’t allowed to say. But I’m a sergeant!”
“That’s cool. You guys have a name?”
Shiner said, “Yes, ma’am. The White Clarion Aryans.”
Amber repeated it out loud. “There’s, like, a little rhyme.”
“I think it’s on purpose. Hey, remember what you said about fixin’ my tattoo? What I need is somebody knows how to make the W.R.B. into a W.C.A.”
She said, “I’d like to help. Really I would, but first you’ve got to promise to let me go.”
Not this again, Shiner thought. Nervously he rolled the screwdriver between his palms. “How ’bout if I pay ya instead?”
“Pay me what?” Amber said, skeptically.
Shiner saw her cast a glance at his dirty bare feet. Quickly he said: “The militia’s got a shitload a money. Not right now, but any day.”
Amber leisurely finished her soup before she got around to asking how much they had coming. Fourteen million, Shiner answered. Yes, dollars.
What a laugh that brought! This time he felt compelled to interject: “It’s no lie. I know for a fact.”
“Oh yeah?”
Decisively he lit a cigaret. Then, in a tough voice: “I helped ’em steal it m’self.”
Amber was quiet for a while, watching a long white yacht glide under the drawbridge. Shiner worried that he’d said too much and now she didn’t believe any of it. Desperately he blurted, “It’s the God’s truth!”
“OK,” said Amber. “But where do I fit in?”
Shiner thought: I wish I knew. Then he got an idea. “You believe in the white man?”
“Honey, I’ll believe in Kermit the Frog if he leaves twenty percent on the table.” She reached over and took hold of Shiner’s left arm, causing him to tremble with enchantment. “Let’s have a look at that tattoo,” she said.
Chub was in no mood to hear whining about the pickup truck. “Leave it,” he snapped at Bode Gazzer.
“Here? Right by the water?”
“Won’t nobody fuck with it, you got the handicap deal on there.”
“Yeah, like they care.”
“They who?”
“The Black Tide.”
“Look here,” Chub said, “the boat thing was your idea, so don’t go chickenshit on me now. Not after the motherfucker of a day I’ve had.”