The Executioner's Song Read Free

dropped his bag, looked at her, then encircled her so hard she could have been hugged by a bear. Even Johnny had never gripped Brenda that hard.
                    When Gary put her down on the ground again, she stood back and looked at him. She had to take him all in. She said, "My God, you're tall."
                    He started to laugh. "What did you expect, a midget?"
                    "I don't know what I expected," she said, "but, thank God, you're tall."
                    Johnny was just standing there with his big good face going, um, um, um.
                    "Hey, coz," said Gary, "it's fine to see you." He shook hands with Johnny.
                    "By the way, Gary," said Brenda demurely, "this is my husband." Gary said, "I assumed that's who it was."
                    Johnny said, "Have you got everything with you?"
                    Gary picked up his flight bag—it was pathetically small, thought Brenda—and said, "This is it. This is all I have." He said it without humor and without self-pity. Material things were obviously no big transaction to him.
                    Now she noticed his clothes. He had a black trench coat slung on his arm and was wearing a maroon blazer over—could you believe it?—a yellow and green striped shirt. Then a pair of beige polyester trousers that were badly hemmed. Plus a pair of black plastic shoes. She paid attention to people's footwear because of her father's trade and she thought, Wow, that's really cheap. They didn't even give him a pair of leather shoes to go home in.
                    "Come on," said Gary, "let's get the hell out of here."
                    She could see then he'd had something to drink. He wasn't plastered, but he sure was tipped. Made a point of putting his arm around her when they walked to the car.
                    When they got in, Brenda sat in the middle and Johnny drove. Gary said, "Hey, this is kind of a cute car. What is it?"
                    "A yellow Maverick," she told him. "My little lemon."
                    They drove. The first silence came in.
                    "Are you tired?" asked Brenda.
                    "A little tired, but then I'm a little drunk too." Gary grinned. "I took advantage of the champagne flight. I don't know if it was the altitude, or not having good liquor for a long time, but, boy, I got tore up on that plane. I was happier than hell."
                    Brenda laughed. "I guess you're entitled to be snockered."
                    The prison sure cut his hair short. It would, Brenda judged, be heavy handsome brown hair when it grew out, but for now it stuck up hick style in the back. He kept pushing it down.
                    No matter, she liked his looks. In the half-light that came into the car as they drove through Salt Lake on the Interstate, the city sleeping on both sides of them, she decided that Gary was everything she expected in that department. A long, fine nose, good chin, thin well-shaped lips. He had character about his face.
                    "Want to go for a cup of coffee?" Johnny asked.
                    Brenda felt Gary tighten. It was as if even the thought of walking into a strange place got him edgy. "Come on," Brenda said, "we'll give the ten-cent tour."
                    They picked Jean's Cafe. It was the only place south of Salt Lake open at 3 A.M., but it was Friday night and people were sporting their finery. Once installed in their booth, Gary said., "I guess I got to get some clothes."
                    Johnny encouraged him to eat, but he wasn't hungry. Obviously too excited. Brenda felt as if she could pick up the quiver in each bright color that Gary was studying