The Client Read Free Page A

and stared at Mark, who was all bent over and shaking at every joint. “Stop crying,” he snarled.
    Mark licked his lips and swallowed blood. He rubbed the knot above his eye and tried to breathe deeply, still staring at his jeans. Again, the man said, “Stop crying,” so he tried to stop.
    The engine was running. It was a big, heavy, quiet car, but Mark could hear the engine humming very softly somewhere far away. He turned slowly and glanced at the hose winding through the rear window behind the driver like an angry snake sneaking toward them for the kill. The fat man laughed.
    “I think we should die together,” he announced, all of a sudden very composed.
    Mark’s left eye was swelling fast. He turned his shoulders and looked squarely at the man, who was even larger now. His face was chubby, the beard was bushy, the eyes were still red and glowed at him like a demon in the dark. Mark was crying. “Please let me out of here,” he said, lip quivering, voice cracking.
    The driver stuck the whiskey bottle in his mouth and turned it up. He grimaced and smacked his lips. “Sorry, kid. You had to be a cute ass, had to stick your dirty little nose into my business, didn’t you? So I think we should die together. Okay? Just you and me, pal. Off to la-la land. Off to see the wizard. Sweet dreams, kid.”
    Mark sniffed the air, then noticed the pistol lying between them. He glanced away, then stared at it when the man took another drink from the bottle.
    “You want the gun?” the man asked.
    “No sir.”
    “So why are you looking at it?”
    “I wasn’t.”
    “Don’t lie to me, kid, because if you do, I’ll kill you. I’m crazy as hell, okay, and I’ll kill you.” Thoughtears flowed freely from his eyes, his voice was very calm. He breathed deeply as he spoke. “And besides, kid, if we’re gonna be pals, you’ve got to be honest with me. Honesty’s very important, you know? Now, do you want the gun?”
    “No sir.”
    “Would you like to pick up the gun and shoot me with it?”
    “No sir.”
    “I’m not afraid of dying, kid, you understand?”
    “Yes sir, but I don’t want to die. I take care of my mother and my little brother.”
    “Aw, ain’t that sweet. A real man of the house.”
    He screwed the cap onto the whiskey bottle, then suddenly grabbed the pistol, stuck it deep into his mouth, curled his lips around it, and looked at Mark, who watched every move, hoping he would pull the trigger and hoping he wouldn’t. Slowly, he withdrew the barrel from his mouth, kissed the end of it, then pointed it at Mark.
    “I’ve never shot this thing, you know,” he said almost in a whisper. “Just bought it an hour ago at a pawnshop in Memphis. Do you think it’ll work?”
    “Please let me out of here.”
    “You have a choice, kid,” he said, inhaling the invisible fumes. “I’ll blow your brains out, and it’s over now, or the gas’ll get you. Your choice.”
    Mark did not look at the pistol. He sniffed the air and thought for an instant that maybe he smelled something. The gun was close to his head. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.
    “None of your damned business, okay, kid. I’m nuts, okay. Over the edge. I planned a nice little private suicide, you know, just me and my hose and maybe afew pills and some whiskey. Nobody looking for me. But, no, you have to get cute. You little bastard!” He lowered the pistol and carefully placed it on the seat. Mark rubbed the knot on his forehead and bit his lip. His hands were shaking and he pressed them between his legs.
    “We’ll be dead in five minutes,” he announced officially as he raised the bottle to his lips. “Just you and me, pal, off to see the wizard.”
    RICKY FINALLY MOVED. HIS TEETH CHATTERED AND HIS jeans were wet, but he was thinking now, moving from his crouch onto his hands and knees and sinking into the grass. He crawled toward the car, crying and gritting his teeth as he slid on his stomach. The door was about to fly open.