Part 33 (1/2)

Con Law Mark Gimenez 34180K 2022-07-22

'Do you have Twinkies or moon pies?' she asked the clerk.

The clerk laughed. 'A Twinkie? No. They stopped making them.'

'What? When?'

'Hostess went under a year ago.'

'It wasn't on Twitter. OMG. What about s...o...b..a.l.l.s?'

The clerk shook her head. 'Sorry.'

'I thought this is a grocery store.'

'It's an organic grocery store. Means natural foods. There's nothing natural in a Twinkie or a s...o...b..ll.'

The clerk turned to the cash register; Nadine made a face at her. Book paid, and they stepped outside and to the Harley. Agent Acosta drove off in a late-model convertible. He waved, and Book waved back. Nadine dug into the potato chips; he ate a protein bar.

'I know what the connection is,' his intern said, 'between Nathan, his death, the art, fracking, and Billy Bob.'

'What?'

'Not what. Who.'

'Okay. Who?'

'That Carla girl.'

'Why?'

'She's in the middle of every conflict in Marfa.'

'She's an environmentalist. That's what they do.'

'There's something more.'

'What?'

'I don't know that. But we didn't have this much conflict in San Francisco, and people there fight over everything. Difference is, people there like h.o.m.os.e.xuals.'

Nadine pointed at the old adobes across the intersection. On one wall graffiti had been painted: f.u.c.k U Chin.a.z.is.

'That's what we call the h.o.m.os.e.xuals,' Jimmy John said. 'The artists. 'Cause of that Chinati deal out there.'

Book and Nadine had ridden over to Nathan Jones's house to meet Brenda. Jimmy John Dale was already there and drinking a beer. Or finis.h.i.+ng off a six-pack.

'The Chinati Foundation at the fort? Where Judd's boxes are exhibited?'

'Yeah. At first we called the whole bunch of 'em ”Chinatis.” Then they took over Marfa, started running the place like they owned it, trying to turn it into another New York City, so we started calling them ”Chin.a.z.is.” h.e.l.l, even the Mexicans hate 'em. First time in the history of Marfa, Anglos and Mexicans are on the same side fighting the same enemy. The h.o.m.os.e.xuals, they brought us together.'

'Why?'

'They've run up the real-estate prices, locals can't afford homes no more, they got their high-dollar restaurants we can't afford, they got their organic grocery store we can't afford, and now they're starting their own private school we can't afford. They look down their noses at us locals, figure we're all dumb-a.s.ses lucky to find our way home at night-h.e.l.l, least we're not a buncha G.o.dd.a.m.n queers!'

'Jimmy John!'

Brenda Jones gave him a stern look. His expression eased.

'Sorry.'

'That the friction the mayor mentioned?' Book asked.

Jimmy John laughed. 'Friction? That's funny. More like open warfare, Professor.'

'Over gays in town who pay too much to eat out?'

Jimmy John drank his beer.

'Aw, h.e.l.l, that stuff just graveled us. But when they started protesting the fracking, they crossed the line with the locals. They're spending a couple hundred bucks to eat French food, but they're happy for us to starve. They come down here and take over our town, now they want to take our jobs. They don't understand, Professor-fracking gave us jobs, and we ain't giving 'em up just 'cause they're worried about a little pollution.'

'Has there been any violence?'

Jimmy John snorted. 'We ain't worried about a buncha queers beating us up, Professor.'

'Against the artists?'

'Oh. Not yet. But they keep it up, they're gonna understand why not many folks live in this desert. It can be a hard life.'

'Do you know Carla Kent?'

'Everyone knows Carla. She come down here from Santa Fe, organized the artists to protest the fracking, then they got stories in the New York papers about fracking-they hate it up there. She's a good-looking gal, so the boys are what you call conflicted about her.'

'How?'

'They don't know what they want to do most, screw her or beat the h.e.l.l outta her.'

Jimmy John grinned. Book didn't.

'Reminds me. Thanks for the help at Padre's the other night.'

'Didn't figure you needed any, not with Babe Ruth watching your back.'

'I hit him hard, didn't I?' Nadine said.

'Real hard. You're pretty good with a beer bottle.'

Jimmy John abruptly grimaced as if a bullet had just bored through his brain.