C23 Christmas Week

Billy left the Dugout at sunrise in his herringbone suit and brown leather loafers. He pushed the shopping cart to an all-night supermarket and used the cash in Chauncey’s wallet to stock up on supplies.

He bought clothesline.

He bought six cans of baked beans and a can opener.

He bought two gallons of water.

He bought duct tape.

He bought a quart of milk.

He bought seven ham sandwiches.

He bought toothpaste and a toothbrush.

He bought a washrag and dishtowel.

He bought soap.

He bought scissors, shaving cream, and disposable razors.

He stood in line with other human beings. They stood away from him. They held their noses.

The cashier told him he was disgusting and never to come back. Billy bought a cup of coffee at the coffee bar on the way out the door. Billy walked back to the Dugout proudly. He lifted his head to

the rising sun. He held his cup of coffee aloft with one hand while he pushed the shopping cart with the other.

It was the day after Christmas. It was the same day that Isabel had left him with the kids. She said she couldn’t stand it anymore; she was going east to live with her mother.

All the money was gone. They were being evicted from the one- room apartment. She had the three girls with her. She ignored his pleas at the end of the driveway.

Isabel was insane by then. Everything had been sold to survive. Her jewelry had been sold. All her clothes and heirlooms had been sold. They were forced to sell the children’s things.

Everyone around them was going insane.

The third bank collapse in two years had done them all in. Everyone lost everything they owned in a matter of weeks. The banks had the future indentured.

When Billy got back to the Dugout and pushed the shopping cart inside the door, Chauncey was twisting and turning. He imme- diately stopped when Billy walked in. Billy shut the door and lit a candle on the table.

He pulled the small table in front of the mat and emptied the contents of his shopping cart on the table. The extra things he placed on either side of it.

He could see Chauncey watching him as he sat down behind the table and took the wrapping off a ham sandwich. He placed it on his dirty plate.

He opened the quart of milk and set it on the table, next to his ham sandwich. Finally, he opened a can of baked beans with the can opener.

Billy ignored Chauncey until he finished the ham sandwich and baked beans and washed it all down with milk. Then he got up from the table and squatted down beside Chauncey and removed the gag made out of his blue silk tie.

Chauncey gulped mouthfuls of air. It was like he had just crossed the finish line of a marathon.

“What do you want?” he gasped finally.

Billy picked up the Beretta that was lying on the mat. He took it in both hands and aimed it at Chauncey. “What were you doing at the Dumpster?” Billy asked.

“Are you kidnapping me?” Chauncey shot at him. “Are you looking for some kind of handout to let me go? Is that it?”

“Why did you kill her?” Billy asked.

“Why did I kill who?” Chauncey demanded.

“China Girl.”

Chauncey looked back in disbelief but quickly covered it up. “China who?” he asked.

“China Girl.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Your head must be wrecked on crack or something.”

“I don’t do drugs, Mr. Gibbons.”

“Well, your mentally ill or something. You don’t belong on the street.”

“I know I don’t belong on the street, Mr. Gibbons. Neither do a lot of other people.”

“Are you some kind of religious freak?” Chauncey spat at him. “God abandoned me a long time ago, Mr. Gibbons.”

“Is this a kidnapping? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” “It’s fate, Mr. Gibbons.”

“I’ll tell you what—I’ll give you all the cash I have in my wallet.” “I already have all the cash in your wallet.”

“How much do you want?”

“I haven’t decided.”

Chauncey tried to look helpless.

“Listen, I’m just a guy with a job. You don’t know me from Adam. I get a paycheck just like anybody else.” “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying! What makes you think I’m lying? You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know you’re lying.”

Chauncey tried to look reasonable.

“Listen, fellah,” he said. “I’m in a real jam. This is nothing I

need to deal with right now. I’ve got to get back to work. My boss will kill me! He chewed me out last week for being late two days. I mean it. I’m barely hanging on. And to boot, my girlfriend’s pissed off at me. We were going to announce our engagement last night at her parents’ place, and I forgot the engagement ring. Can you believe it? I mean, the holidays have just been crazy.”

“You’re still lying,” Billy said.

“Listen, man,” Chauncey pleaded. “I know life’s been a little rough on you. I’m really, really sorry. I mean, maybe I can help you out. I might be able to get you a job where I work. We’re always look- ing for a new guy in the mailroom. Shoot, I mean, it’s not much, but it’s a start. You get full medical and dental at this place.”

“How many employees did you send pink slips to on Christmas Eve this year?”

Chauncey looked aghast.

“What?”

“You have a tradition of laying people off on Christmas Eve,

Mr. Gibbons.”

“Just call me Chauncey, old chum.”

“How many people did you lay off?”

Chauncey pretended to laugh.

“Hey, believe me,” he said. “I wish I was the kind of guy with a business big enough to lay people off. But that’s not the case. I mean, look—we’re both in this together. You’re in a rough spot. I’m in a rough spot. Maybe we can help each other out.”

Billy went over and sat behind the table. He unwrapped another ham sandwich and opened a can of baked beans.

“I’m not in a rough spot, Chauncey Gibbons,” he said before he took his first bite. “But you are.”