“I don’t think so,” Bonnie said.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Ride it out. Hang on till it’s over.”
Not me, thought Edie. No fucking way.
The Club exaggerated Snapper’s pre-exaggerated features. It pushed the top half of his mug into pudgy creases, like a shar-pei puppy; the eyes were moist slits, the nose pugged nearly to his brow. The rest was all maw.
“An authentic mouth-breather,” Skink said, studying him as if he were a museum piece.
“Fhhhrrrggaaah,” Snapper retorted. His elbows stung from scrapes received when the lunatic had dragged him to the creek.
Now the lunatic was saying: “God, I hate the word ‘nigger.’ Back at the motel I considered killing you when you said it. Blowing your three pitiful teaspoons of brain matter all over the Jeep. Even if you hadn’t shot my friend, the thought would’ve crossed my mind.”
Snapper stopped moaning. Worked at controlling his slobber. Watched gnats and mosquitoes float in and out of his mouth.
“Nothing to be done about that.” Skink flicked at the insects. He’d already spread a generous sheen of repellent on his captive’s neck and arms. ” ‘Not to be taken internally.’ Says so right on the package.”
Snapper nodded submissively.
“Lester Maddox Parsons is the name on your license. Wild guess says you’re named after that clay-brained Georgia bigot. Am I right?”
A weaker nod.
“So you started out two strikes against you. That’s a shame, Lester, but I expect even if your folks had called you Gandhi, you still would’ve grown up to be a world-class dickhead. Here, let me show you something.”
The governor yanked the Bill Blass suitcase from under his butt. He positioned it in front of Snapper and opened it with a gay flourish. “Drool away,” he said.
Snapper rose to his haunches. The suitcase was packed with money: bank-wrapped bundles of twenties.
“Ninety-four thousand dollars,” Skink reported.
“Plus assorted shirts, socks and casual wear. Two packs of French condoms, a set of gold cuff links, a tube of generic lubricant-what else? Oh yes, personal papers.”
•He probed in the luggage. “Bank statements, newspaper clippings about the hurricane. And this …”
It was a glossy color sales brochure for a real estate project called Gables-on-the-Bay. Skink sat next to Snapper and opened the brochure.
“There’s our boy. Christophe Michel. ‘Internationally renowned construction engineer.’ See, here’s his picture.”
Snapper recognized him as the dork at the Circle K.
“What would you do,” Skink mused, “if you designed all these absurdly expensive homes-and they fell down in the first big blow. I believe a .smart person would grab the money and split, before subpoenas started flying. I believe that was Monsieur Michel’s plan.”
Snapper didn’t give two shits about the Frenchman. He was transfixed by the sight of so much money. He would have gaped rapturously even if his jaws weren’t bolted open. He remembered a Sally Jessy, or maybe it was a Donahue, with some hotel maid from Miami Beach who’d found like forty-two grand under a bed. The maid, for some reason, instead of grabbing the dough she’d turned it in to the manager! That’s how come she’d got on Sally Jessy; the theme that day was “honest people.” Snapper remembered shouting at the TV screen: What a dumb cunt! They’d showed a picture of the cash, and he’d almost come in his pants.
And here he was staring at twice as much. In person.
“Whhrrrrooognnn? Whhhaaakkkfff?”
“Good question, Lester.”
Without warning, the one-eyed freak stood up, unbut-
toned his army trousers, whipped out his unit and-to Snapper’s mortification-urinated prodigiously upon the hurricane money.
Woefully Snapper rocked on his heels. He felt sick. Skink tucked himself in and went for the monkey rifle. He opened the chamber, peered inside. Then he strolled over to Snapper, flipped him on his belly and shot a tranquilizer dart into his ass. Right away the fog rolled in and Snapper got drowsy. The last thing he heard came from Skink.
“Who wants to go for a swim?”
Bonnie and Augustine stayed to look at the books while the governor took Edie to the creek. She wanted to talk; Skink wanted to get wet. He stripped, starting with the shower cap.