The Drip, a novel by Michael Gullo
“See that, boy? Coward, slave to they money, ever one. Catch us there. Come out gunnin’, but minute you stand up fer y’self, slick soles go runnin’ cuz his money’s at risk.”
“Deddy, I should listen to you more ’n I do. You was right bout that Yankee. Ever thing he do sleazy, and threaten me more ’n once, and here we is toe to toe, ’n he go runnin to his old lady come to call.”
“I told you, boy. S’why I takes it on myself git up that holler first day. You was right too, boy. Nuff sense git you on his crew, now we got him.”
“Best Christmas gift ever, Deddy. Not five hundred bucks, but that man need Rusty, and Rusty say that ten-ninety-nine git me thinkin’. Tax evasion, and his lady a tax cop.”
“Been nice if that scooter work though.”
“It turn over sticky but fine in the guy’s garage.”
“That crank won’t budge. Seize up.”
“That’s how they git Pedro, that ten-ninety-nine.”
“Thass not all they get on Pedro. Got him trafficking ’n girls ’n drugs.”
“Well, yeah, Deddy, but they start with that ten-ninety-nine.”
“This man ain’t no ninety-nine though. So how it helps?”
“Well, Deddy, the ten-ninety-nine is a trap, but the trap ain’t the form, it’s the reason the form was chose.”
“He chose give away a company avoid a tax. That’s it. Do you see it, boy? He ain’t go like all them do it normal, act ignorant, pay fine, nex job. He do it cuz he ain’t even wanna file the form. Make you boys file the paperwork.”
“And now I’m inside.”
“Now you git the goods, and you get him good. He goes jail, wife can’t keep up the mansion and moves, and we git our holler back. You listenin, boy?”
“Deddy, din’t that driveway feel differnt?”
“Feel invaded. Feel like that man run off all the sign. Feel like the critters is thinned out. Feel like walk up that driveway, all the way up, ’n ain’t no sign you’s ever there. Feel empty.”
“This here gonna feel empty, Jed leave. You sure he leavin’?”
“Say he’s move out first week a March.”
“Take his truck?”
“He say make me a price on it.”
“Best be a good price.”
“I got the Social Security start in March. Mayhap he take a payment book.”
“All them years cash, you ain’t get much.”
“Lady say I get like four-fifty.”
“More’n you got now.”
“We git that holler back, be more than I need.”
“The deer come back we git him out.”
“Wiggin’s blackberry come back. You ain’t tell me he gravel over the patch. You see that sign down there lean ’gainst the house? Sad, boy. That old man run that market twenty year or more now, got regulars. (Not the produce stand on the honor system) Locals got they own patch a berries, but they stop ’n buy a tray, a minute of fellowship. That’s it, boy. That’s what they do, them Yankees. They gravel over the sign and they line you up one tax bill atter the other, and they put you out the only land you ever know’d, and they put you on the rolls. You listenin’, boy?”
“I’m listenin, Deddy. He come down here, ’n he preten he put down roots, all the while all he doin is tear out the roots was here fore he got sight of us. Man tell me he give me a future. I already had one. He come here tell me mine’s wrong, take my hand, I’ll show you the way, ’n if you ain’t listen, he knock out yer teeth. You put one foot outa line, he knock out another. And here’s me, put both my feet, mud covered up on his ground, on my way headed for the seat of that machine he covet so bad, ’n what’s he do? He don’t knock out shit. He go runnin cuz his old lady call his name.”
“Juss like I said, she call his name.”
“Juss like you said.” (You ain’t think none of this. You think you did, but you’s helpless without my thinkin half through it ’n tell you what to say).
“Juss like I said.”
“How long you think it take get them out and git the holler back?”
“Law slow, boy.”
“You see all that Rose Pink up thar?”
“I seen it. See it ever’ year.”
“No, Deddy, you see it ever’ two year. You see them skeletons right now, them this year two year ago flower. They like them Blackberries, Deddy. They’s biennial. Them Rose Pinks, they down there now, scratch under the snow, that leaf ball there, green, resilient, ready for nex July, ’n maybe we git the holler back by then, but prolly it take one more turn, that skeleton you see today, that grow its leaf ball for next winter freeze, and that next July it spring up, holler’s ours.”
“Rose Pink come ever’ year, but you right boy, that skeleton today will not bloom next season, it’s last Winter skeleton bloom this coming year. They’s takin turns. My turn this year, your turn next. All the while all’s I see is your mama hung them pinks out to dry ever’ year, account them bitters settle my stomach better than any pink drink, and good she did too, you was a fevered baby, and them Pinks work ever’ time bring you down out of her fears. Doctor give me ever pill ’n potion at the Walgreens after she lef, ’n none them work half good as your mama’s Rose Pink.”
“Deddy, you see that pile of shed-build cut-offs up thar?”
“Some that look like stack lumber it’s so big.”
“That’s what I’s thinkin’. Why don’t we head up thar again, this time come in the back way, get behind them cameras by enter through the driveway Y. We get us ’nuff of that trim scrap I made when I cut them window boards just wrong enough can’t use them for the job at hand, and we put them up here over this gap in the door. What you think we go do that?”