Big Stupid (POPCORN) Read Free Page A

world.
    “What’s the joke?”
    “I think we have the perfect sidekick for you, peckerwood.”
    “Don’t call me peckerwood.”
    The grin fell from Otis’s face like it’d been shoved. “Or what?”
    Or nothing. I shut up.
    Fat Otis turned his head, looked at something behind me. “Got a gig for you, Big Stupid.”
    The wall shifted behind me, and I stepped back fast, startled. The building was caving in! But it wasn’t a wall.
    It was a guy.
    The whole room was laughing at my reaction.
    It was like there was nowhere I could turn my head and not still be looking at Big Stupid. Fat but not circus fat.
    There were clearly muscles in the shoulders and arms. Everything was thick and tall and heavy. It was like that black guy from The Green Mile had eaten Andre the Giant, and the result was Big Stupid. Skin rubbery and deep black. Bald head with a too-small straw hat perched on top.
    I don’t know what the hell store sold enormous gray trousers and white Filipino shirts, but Big Stupid shopped there.
    “Jesus.”
    Everyone laughed again.
    Fat Otis said, “Big Stupid knows the town. He’ll show you around.”
    Big Stupid headed for the front door. “I’ll get my ride.”
    “My truck’s outside,” I said.
    “I won’t fit.” Big stupid had to duck his head and turn sideways to fit through the front door.
    I turned back to Fat Otis. “Are you kidding?”
    “No.”
    “Look, forget it,” I said. “I’ll find my way around on my own.”
    “The hell you say.”
    “I sort of figured on keeping a low profile,” I said. “Not easy to do dragging some giant black guy around behind me.”
    Fat Otis frowned. “Now, I told Big Stupid he had a gig. It’ll hurt his feelings if he thinks you don’t like him. Are you saying you want to hurt Big Stupid’s feelings? Please tell me that’s not what you’re saying.”
    Otis’s crew stood up slowly. All eyes in the room were on me. Nobody was laughing anymore.
    “No.” I shook my head. “It’s all good.”

    * * *
     
    We rolled down Government Street in Big Stupid’s Humvee. It wasn’t like a rich person’s Humvee with all the bells and whistles. It was painted desert tan, like army surplus or something.
    As big as the vehicle was, it still looked like Big Stupid had to be shoehorned in behind the wheel.
    “Where to?” Big Stupid’s voice was a dull bass baritone.
    I sat in the passenger seat, fishing through the gym bag. I needed to figure where to look first, and that meant paging through the folder of junk Ray had given me.
    “Not sure. Tell you what. Pull into some sandwich place, and I’ll look at this stuff while we grab a bite. I’m sort of doing this all of a sudden, so I’m not the most organized.”
    He didn’t have nothing to say to that. Giant dumb bruiser probably didn’t have an opinion on much. Not his job, I guess. Otis probably kept him around to break people in half and terrify white boys.
    He pulled into a local place called Jay’s BBQ.
    “I wanted a sandwich place.”
    “They have sandwiches here.”
    I said, “I meant like a deli sandwich.”
    “This place is good.”
    “You know what? Fine. It’s cool.”
    We went inside.
    At the counter, I ordered a pork sandwich, fries and a coke. It was all just a bit overpriced, but it smelled good. I carried the tray to a table in the back, sat and started pouring over the folder.
    In about three seconds flat, I came to the conclusion that I had no idea how to find somebody that didn’t want to be found.
    Big Stupid sat down across from me. I blinked at the stack of food on his tray. I counted six pork sandwiches and a quart-sized Styrofoam container of cold slaw. He made the first sandwich go away in two bites.
    I raised an eyebrow. “No fries?”
    He shook his head. “Atkins.”
    I didn’t bother pointing out that the sandwich buns counted as carbs. Dumb shit. I went back to the material in the folder but then looked up again abruptly to see if I could catch him grinning.
    Was