Monday Night Man Read Free

Stingray T-shirt. “Okay, but a Pacer?”
    When the kid was gone, Rupp invited Horst to sit in the car and eat pizza. They played the radio and drank beer.
    â€œSo you’re finding a place soon, right?”
    â€œJesus, Horst. I’m fifty. You think I like this?” Rupp insisted Horst take the last piece. Horst knew it was bribery, but after a month of Kraft Dinner, he went for it. “I never brought a whore there once,” said Rupp.
    They arranged that Rupp use Horst’s bathroom in the morning before work, then again at night before bed. Beyond that, they were living in separate houses.
    That evening Horst’s landlord, Leo Buljan, discovered Rupp out back. Leo was huge. Rupp, terrified, refused to get out of the car. He rolled the window down an inch and they argued. Then Leo lost his temper and grabbed the window, and Rupp quickly cranked it up tight, pinching Leo’s fingers. Horst came running when Leo started howling. It took a lot of talking before Horst had him calmed down to where he wasn’t going to get a hammer, break the window, and drag Rupp out.
    â€œOkay,” said Leo. “He can stay. But I want rent. Hundred a month.” He hulked off to ice his fingers.
    Horst was secretly pleased. It was great. Rupp got the message, loud and clear, that he better get his ass someplace else. It also meant Horst didn’t take the rap for not letting him stay.
    â€œThat guy’s gonna kill me!”
    â€œYou oughta see his gun collection,” said Horst. “Goes to the Barnet Rifle Club twice a week. Drinks vodka.”
    â€œA hundred a month,” said Rupp.
    â€œYeah.” Horst tried sounding sympathetic.
    â€œThat’s pretty good. Goddamn Svoboda was bleeding me for four hundred and fifty. What’s this guy’s name?” Rupp had his chequebook out.
    The next night Horst heard singing. He peeked through the blinds and saw Rupp and Leo in the Pacer, drunk, singing Serbian songs.
    In the morning, Rupp knocked on Horst’s door carrying two cups of coffee.
    â€œLeo hooked up an extension cord for me so I can use my perk. He’s a good guy!”
    â€œHow’re his fingers?”
    â€œNot even bruised!”
    Horst sat at the kitchen table while Rupp used the toilet. Horst hated anyone using his toilet. It disgusted him. He shut his eyes trying not to think about it.
    â€œJesus,” said Rupp when he came out, “been holding that dump all night. So. See you at the track?”
    â€œYou just got evicted for not being able to pay your rent and you got money to bet?”
    Rupp peeled off a couple of twenties. “Leo’s gonna lay down a piece of plywood and some foam rubber to level out the back seat. This should cover it. Hey.” Rupp looked at Horst’s jungle of jades, ivies, cacti, gloxinias, and philodendrons. “I’ll give you ten for a couple of these buggers.”
    When Rupp pulled in about midnight both doors of his Bug opened and shut, and Horst heard a woman’s laughter. He made it to the window in time to see a hooker getting into the back seat of his Pacer. Rupp had his hands all over her ass as he crawled in behind. Horst went from the bedroom window to the living-room window for a better view. He shifted some of the plants and watched. For a minute the light was on and he could see the silhouettes of two bodies moving about behind the towels. Then the light went out. Pretty soon the Pacer was rocking side-to-side.
    In the morning Rupp appeared at the door with two coffees.
    â€œWhere were you? I got the triactor! Bunce got it too. Paid three-fifty!”
    Horst smelled Rupp from across the table. “You stink.”
    Rupp grinned. “Jesus, Horst. It’s been so long I forgot what it looks like.”
    â€œWhere’d you find her?”
    â€œMr Submarine on Hastings.”
    â€œI’d prefer you didn’t fuck whores in my car.”
    â€œOk, ok.” Rupp