“Really. I thought you were having such a good time with it.” He imitated the sounds of gunfire that Fritz had been mouthing earlier. “How about this? We’ll draw straws. Guy who gets the short one takes the gun.”
Fritz said, “What straws?”
Austin crossed to the fireplace, where a stack of newspapers and long wooden matches had been left near the pile of logs. “We’ll use these. There are four of us, right? So we’ll pull four and I’ll break one and then I’ll line ’em up behind my back.” He took four long wooden matches from the box.
Troy said, “One chance in four. Not very good odds.”
“Not so. It means three out of the four of us don’t have to worry. Hang on.”
He turned aside and Bayard heard the faint snap of a wooden match. Austin turned back. He held out his hand, with four wooden matches lined up evenly above his thumb and index finger. “Who wants to go first?”
“I’ll go,” Troy said. He chose one of the matches and pulled it out from between Austin’s fingers. It was clearly a long one.
Austin smiled. “Lucky draw. You’re off the hook. Who’s next?”
“Me,” Bayard said. He studied the remaining three matches, hesitated, and then pulled one. Again, it was a long one.
Austin laughed, amused by the tension he’d generated. “Down to you and me, Fritz. Have a go and best of luck.”
He held out the matches, pretending to steer Fritz from one to the other of the remaining two.
Fritz picked one and pulled. The match was two inches long.
Austin put the remaining match in his pocket and held out the gun. “You gonna take this or not? If you’re chickenshit, that’s fine with me. I’m not going to pressure you.”
Fritz said, “I’ll take it.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I drew the short straw. Everybody saw that.”
Bayard found himself looking at Austin’s left hand, wondering why he’d done such a smooth job of tucking the remaining match out of sight.
Austin was still watching Fritz closely. “Short straw doesn’t commit you. You can tell me to stuff it if you don’t like the deal.”
“I’m good. Gimme the gun. I’m cool with this.”
“Attaboy. You’ll do fine.” He turned toward the hall and then turned back to Bayard. “Go find out what’s taking Sloan so long.”
Bayard left the living room and crossed the hall to the master bedroom. The door to the bathroom was open and Iris was sitting on the floor by the toilet, her cheek resting on the rim. The air smelled sour. He paused in the bathroom doorway, watching her. “This doesn’t bode well.”
“I don’t feel good.”
“You don’t look so hot, either. Are you done?”
“I think so.” Iris put a hand on the vanity and pulled herself to her feet. She lowered the lid on the toilet and flushed it. Then she leaned over the sink, turned on the water, and rinsed her mouth.
“Your parents have any idea where you are?”
She shook her head. “They signed up for this marital retreat to deal with some of the stress I caused them by getting kicked out of Climp. They’re supposed to get home tonight, but they weren’t sure what time. I told them I was spending the night with Poppy, but if they call to say hi, then what? She won’t lie for me now, after what went on. My parents are already furious. What am I gonna do if they find out I’m not at her house?”
“Has it occurred to you that you have no business being here in the first place? This is a bad environment for a girl like you.”
Iris turned off the faucet and placed a hand towel against her face, dabbing off water. “What’s Austin need a gun for? That’s what I don’t get.”
“It’s all bull. You know him. He does shit for effect.”
“So everything’s all right?”
“Of course. All Sloan has to do is tell us where the tape is and we can get this over with.”
“Do you think we should call the sheriff?”
Bayard laughed. “What for?”
“To make sure no one gets hurt.”
“Seriously, Iris. Are you going to call the sheriff’s office and have some deputy show up? Austin would shit a brick. I don’t think his parents have any idea he invited us up here. Last thing he needs is some cop at the door. We got enough booze and dope up here to land us all in jail. Is that what you want?”
Iris hesitated, her face pale. “I’m worried about Sloan.”
“Well, don’t. You just worry about yourself.”
“Bayard, this is scaring me. There’s no telling what Austin might do.”
“You want him to turn around and fix his beady eye on you?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“I want to do what’s right.”
“Then go ahead and call the cops, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said. He turned and did a visual search of the bedroom behind him. “Where’s Sloan? I thought she was in here.”
“I didn’t see her. I’ve been puking my guts out.”
“She didn’t come in to get dressed?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Where’d she go then? Her clothes are right where I saw ’em earlier. And isn’t that her gym bag?”
“I guess. Maybe she left. She might have gone out the front door.”
“Fuck.”
Bayard returned to the living room. Fritz had tucked the gun in his waistband and Bayard was already worried the fool would shoot himself.
Austin looked up, expecting to see Sloan.
Bayard said, “She’s gone. Iris thinks she might have left by the front door.”
Iris appeared in the doorway behind Bayard. Austin was still focused on Bayard. “What the fuck is wrong with you? What are you standing around for? You guys get out there and round her up. Can’t any of you think for yourselves?”
Troy was exasperated. “Okay, so we round her up. Then what?”
“Then we take her up to Yellowweed and have a chat.”
“Why do we have to drive up there?” Troy said. “Why not have a chat here and then we can get the hell home?”
“You’ll get home, dude. No sweat. I have something to show her so she’ll know we’re serious.”
“What are you going to do, strip her clothes off and leave her up there?” Troy asked.
Austin laughed. “Not a bad idea. I like that.”
Bayard shook his head, staring at the floor. “You know what? This is all more trouble than it’s worth. Why don’t we just bag the whole idea and get out of here? We can pick her up along the way.”
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Austin said. “We’re all in trouble as long as she has that tape. Just find her and bring her back. We’ll go up the mountain, smoke a little dope, and negotiate.”
“And that’s it?” Troy asked.
“I want us to get this settled. You think I like being a shit? Well, I don’t. I’m trying to work this out so it’s win-win.”
“That would be a first,” Troy said.
“Don’t start on me, Troy. I’m doing my best, okay?”
Troy studied him for a moment while Austin looked him steadily in the eye.
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll swing by and pick you up as soon as she’s in the truck.”
“Thank you.”
? ? ?