CHAPTER 29
Victor drove down the long gravel driveway his GPS indicated until he came upon the address he’d been searching for.
At the end of the road was a bunch of rusted junk spread across a yard—mostly old cars and tractors, interspersed with piles of rotting wood and items covered in old torn-up tarps—and a house that didn’t look much better.
It had moss growing on the roof, siding that hadn’t been cleaned in probably twenty years, and a porch that slumped slightly to the right.
On that porch sat two men—one was Johnny, the other was probably Sarah’s cousin.
Victor tried opening his truck door and hopping out, but two very large Rottweiler-looking dogs charged at him, and he couldn’t confirm they were friendly until the man on the porch whistled and the dogs dispersed. Victor stepped out of the truck and waved at Johnny, who waved back.
The house door opened and out came Sarah, whose uncle owned the place.
Victor didn’t know how many cousins she had, but it appeared to be a lot, and together they were probably worth a collective fifty dollars, judging by the places where they lived.
When Victor approached, Sarah descended the porch steps and thrust a cold soda up against Victor’s chest.
“I was gonna give you a beer, but we’re abstaining for Johnny’s sake,” she said.
“That’s fine.” One of the dogs thrust his nose into Victor’s crotch, so Victor tried to push him away with a knee. “Uh, nice dogs.”
“Hustler and Cramp. Weird names, I know. Anyway, thanks for comin’. We’re shootin’ out back, if you wanna join.”
“Shooting? Like with guns?”
“Yeah. Just cans and shit. You ever shoot a gun?”
“No.”
Sarah smirked and slapped Victor’s bicep. “Well, let’s pop your cherry then.” She turned and shouted up to the porch. “Boys! Let’s get the party started.”
Twenty minutes later, Victor was tramping through the early spring wilderness on the way to these mythical cans.
Sarah had given Victor a rifle to carry, but he didn’t know anything about it beyond that it was heavier than he’d assumed.
He didn’t really care for guns and hadn’t been aware that was what they’d be doing when Johnny invited him.
Victor was just glad no one would be drinking because alcohol and firearms weren’t a great combination.
Finally they arrived at the clearing where someone had tied a bunch of coffee cans with strings from a tree branch, as well as set up one of those fake deer for target practice.
Victor had barely come to terms with his surroundings when Sarah’s cousin (Jodie, Sarah had called him) picked up his rifle and fired the first shot from 25 yards away.
The bullet skipped off a can and sent it swinging without completely obliterating it.
Sarah was up next, and she did a slightly worse job, missing the can entirely but hitting a tree behind it.
“Y’all can’t shoot for shit,” Johnny teased.
“Let’s see you do it then, smart ass,” Jodie replied.
Johnny smirked. “Watch a sharpshooter at his craft.” He then lifted the rifle, spent a few seconds aiming it, and then pulled the trigger. This too missed completely and seemingly struck nothing, because Victor saw no proof of it landing.
“Sharpshooter my ass,” Sarah laughed. “You’re so full of shit.”
Johnny geared up to shoot again, but Sarah insisted Victor go next, since it was only fair.
Victor stood there feeling like an idiot, because he had no clue how any of this worked.
Sarah lifted the nozzle of the gun and went through the process of telling Victor what all the levers and triggers did.
The safety was still on, so she turned it off.
Johnny sidled up next to Victor when Victor lifted the gun, demonstrating how to properly brace it against his shoulder.
When it was time to aim, Victor lifted it and stared down the barrel, trying to pick a can to focus on.
Just before he pulled the trigger, Johnny sneezed beside him, making Victor jump.
“Shit, sorry,” Johnny said with a cackle.
“Sabotage,” Victor muttered before refocusing and pulling the trigger. The kickback was stronger than Victor was expecting. He’d been given ear protection and it still seemed louder than anything Victor had heard since the last concert he’d been to.
“Did I hit anything?” Victor asked, lowering the gun.
“Don’t think so,” Jodie replied.
“Can I try again?”
“Sure, if you want.”
It took a few tries before Victor hit anything, but he was finally getting the hang of it. As much as he didn’t like guns and didn’t want one in his house, he had to admit they could be fun as hell to shoot.
When they got to the junk-filled backyard, Jodie offered to take the guns into the house as Sarah led Johnny and Victor to the firepit where several plastic lawn chairs had been put down, as well as an old cooler.
She got a fire going and insisted they sit.
Victor couldn’t help but notice the confederate flag operating as a curtain in one of the foggy windows.
Typical. He wondered if Jodie knew Victor was half-Mexican.
When Jodie emerged, it was with sodas and snacks.
Around the fire they talked about whatever baby mama drama Jodie had going on and then about one of Sarah’s coworkers, who was, apparently, a real bitch.
After about twenty minutes of back-and-forth, Jodie then got a call from his father from within the house, who needed him to go get medication from the pharmacy before it closed.
With a sigh, Jodie hauled himself out of the lawn chair and promised he’d be back within half an hour.
In the meantime, Sarah and Johnny chatted about their various exes, including high school sweethearts that never worked out.
According to Sarah, Johnny had been awkward and repellent to all women in high school, which thankfully Johnny seemed to think was a funny observation.
“What about you, Victor?” Sarah asked. “Got any notable romantic drama you wanna talk about?”
“Uh, not really,” Victor muttered.
“You a virgin or something? Not saying that’d be a bad thing, but—”
“No, I’m just private.”
“Dude, I saw you at a gay rodeo. You don’t gotta fuckin’ pussyfoot around me about it.
” Sarah grabbed another soda from the cooler and popped the tab.
“If you’ve fucked dudes, I literally don’t care.
My sister’s a lesbian. As a kid she’d always show me her gay fanfiction of whatever damn twinks were on TV at the time.
I know I’m white trash and all, but I’m totally fine with gay people.
If that’s what you are.” Sarah shrugged.
“I mean, you can be a straight guy at a gay rodeo, I dunno.”
“Right. Uh. Well. I’m gay.”
Sarah smirked as she slurped down some soda.
“Must be rough living around here with all these chucklefuck rednecks, huh? My sister couldn’t take it; she lives in Texas now and only visits occasionally.
You know it’s bad when Texas feels like a more supportive place.
I’m wondering what kinda gay dudes are around here. ”
“The options are not great.”
“Damn. I guess I’ll keep an eye out. I got a big family. One of ‘ems gotta be gay.”
“He don’t need you matchmakin’ for ‘im,” Johnny protested with a hint of ire.
“Well I ain’t matchmaking for you. You only date tarts like Daisy who got big tits and no conscience.
” Sarah straightened so she could unbutton the front of her flannel shirt, exposing the white tank top underneath.
“You’ve always had shit taste. Remember that girl Savannah telling me at dinner that I should eat more salads if I cared about my health?
Fuck that skinny bitch. She was a damn alcoholic, and yet she wanted to lecture me about how much pizza I ate. I’m glad she didn’t last.”
“I don’t remember that happenin’.”
“Cuz you were drunk.”
Johnny’s irritation faded, replaced by a hint of shame. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” Sarah shook her head, then turned to Victor again.
“I’m glad you keep Johnny outta trouble, and you don’t condescend me about my weight.
Maybe you two should date, I dunno. Might solve both your problems.” At this, she lifted an eyebrow at Victor.
This wasn’t the first time she’d insinuated as much.
Considering it had been two weeks since Johnny had chickened out on telling Jade, Victor now desperately wanted Johnny to tell Sarah instead.
She was his best friend, and she was clearly supportive. What was keeping him silent?
The resulting quiet at her insinuation made it all the more obvious she was on to something, but when Victor looked at Johnny, he was staring at his lap, frowning.
“Well, Johnny?” Sarah prodded, crossing her legs as she turned to face Johnny. “Whataya think of my solution? It means he ain’t so lonely and you get someone to look after your scrawny ass.”
“I can look after my own scrawny ass,” Johnny muttered, but not before shooting Victor a look that seemed to be a plea for forgiveness.
But Victor had no forgiveness in his heart right now.
He held Johnny’s gaze in what he hoped was an obvious request that Johnny summon some goddamn bravery and come out.
Instead of doing that, he stood up and adjusted his pants. “I’m gonna take a piss in the woods.”
“There’s a bathroom in the damn house, you animal.”
“I ain’t goin’ in there. Your uncle’ll probably shoot me.”
Sarah cackled, so it had to have a hint of truth. Johnny marched off with purpose, vanishing behind a rusted out truck and a couple of piles of detritus covered in tarps.
“He’s so fuckin’ frustrating sometimes,” Sarah muttered as she yanked a cigarette from the pack she carried in her back pocket and stuck it in her mouth.
“He’s his daddy’s son alright. Proudest sonuvabitch you ever met.
” She paused before glancing at Victor. “You should go talk some sense into him.”