“Second one,” said Matt. “Below the toaster.”
“Second one below the toaster,” Phillip repeated, retreating to the kitchen once again.
The big man Matt smiled, and in his sickly whine he said, “How about you, string bean? You know where you’re headed next?”
East squinted. He’d been called String Bean sometimes as a kid. That Matt had put his finger right on it annoyed him, like someone had screamed his name inside a house. But he couldn’t mean anything by it. He meant that East was long and skinny. That was all.
As much as East hated these men, he wanted to make the deal. He wanted it to be over. And he wanted to have done it.
“I’m going with him,” he affirmed.
“Mmm,” mused Matt. “That’s good. Okay, here he comes.”
The second tray: two guns, one extra clip. “Be my guest,” Matt said again.
Walter picked up the first, a gray semi, jimmied the magazine out, checked it over. “Seventeen,” he murmured tunefully.
“Good gun,” said Matt. “Not Glock’s best.”
“Why ain’t you bring this out first time?”
Matt smiled and said nothing.
“Do I get to fire it? You got room in the basement?”
“In the basement is my wife,” Matt said. “Asleep, we both should hope. No, you don’t get to fire it. If we go out in the fields, you can shoot it. But you’re in my house, first thing in the morning. You’re lucky we’re even awake.”
“You have a wife?” said Walter.
Again Matt smiled. “Big boys get it done, junior. You’re on your way yourself.”
“Not that big,” Walter said. He pointed out the second gun. “Not much of a toss-in. Can’t you sell me a better one?”
“That little Ruger in the last round,” said Matt. “But it costs. Or you can have that Taurus.”
“How much, these two?”
“Five-twenty-five.”
“Four hundred.”
“Oh, I’ll say four-fifty,” Matt said. “But I will also say: I came down. I come down one time only. Take it or leave it.”
“Four-eighty,” said Walter, “and you take back this cracker box and give me that Taurus.”
“Five hundred and you can have all three.”
“I don’t want three,” said Walter. “I don’t want this leaky thing anywhere near me.”
“A man who thinks he can spot shit,” said Matt, “will still end up wondering why his shoes stink.”
Walter said straight, “Four-fifty for the Glock and Taurus.”
“Mostly now what I want, actually, is you to get out, actually,” said Matt. “I care less and less if I get your money or not.”
“Well,” Walter said, “right now you get to decide.”
East’s stomach rolled. He watched Walter with a low, grudging admiration. Trading was all it was, maybe. But not everybody could trade.
“All right,” said Matt with resignation. “Four-fifty for the Glock and Taurus.”
East could not stop the little leap his hands made in his lap.
“Deal,” said Walter. “And we stop outside town and see do they shoot. If they don’t, we come back.”
“You can look at them and see they shoot. A child can see they shoot. The question is, can you aim?” Matt made to stand up but winced instead. “Phillip, get that little Taurus gun off the top of the fridge.”
Walter counted out twenty-three twenties. “Got change?”
“Not if you want bullets. I got about a box and a half fits those both.”
“Oh, shit,” said Walter. “Yeah. Here’s another twenty. Gimme it all.”
Phillip opened a door in the dining room sideboard, near enough that East could watch. Red and black boxes were stacked beside vases. Phillip placed two in a bag that said Dollar General and walked them to the front door.
Walter said, “Where’s he going?”
“Putting it outside for you,” said Matt. “You think we invite boys into my house and hand them loaded guns?” He counted the twenties. “Four hundred eighty dollars. My handshake is my receipt.”
They stood, but none of them shook hands.
—
Outside, behind the steering wheel, Ty waited, quiet-eyed. He slid back in the van as they approached. East peered down into the plastic bag. New bullets, a sealed box and a half one—nice.
“Those guys had guns in every drawer in the house,” East said.
Walter snorted. “I know. A thousand guns. We could have been there all day.”
“What you get?” said Ty the moment they opened the doors.
“Now we’ll get schooled,” said Walter. He unpocketed his gun and passed it back. East fished the Taurus out too. Walter set the van moving as Ty examined them.
“This Glock, nice,” said Ty. “Other one, a piece of shit. You could smack somebody with it, I guess.”
Walter smiled. “See?”
“What you pay?”
“Four-eighty for all of it and bullets.”
Ty gaped. “Four-eighty? These guns? Four hundred eighty?”
Walter turned a corner. “That a good price?”
“I get Glocks like this in The Boxes, two hundred,” Ty said. “How many dudes were there?”
“Three,” said Walter. “And a little baby.”