Chapter 7 - SIDEARM


Sumner double-clutched his old Dodge flatbed and downshifted as he rattled into Nicky's drive, the oversized tires digging into soft spots, wallowing in the ruts, splashing muddy water to both sides. Sumner was pretty sure he'd find Sidearm at Nicky's. His tractor was parked at Wild Bill's, diesel idling, and there were fresh boot tracks down Nicky's driveway. Pointy-toed tracks.

Sidearm Kelly had a wife and kids down to West Smithport, but he preferred the company of his kissing cousin, Nicky. His wife didn't appreciate getting smacked around so often, while Nicky was a great big woman, who could stand toe-to-toe with Sidearm, trading punches. Her tongue was as fast as her jab, and the two cousins just loved to beat up on each other. Rumor had it that wasn't all they loved to do together, and tongues would clack whenever Nicky went over the road with Sidearm in the tractor.

Sumner had a warm spot for Nicky, too. Back when Wild Bill started buying wrinkles, she and Sidearm and Sumner had gone wrinkling together. She had out-picked, and outswore, the both of them. One day Sumner'd been struggling up a slick ledge with two sacks of snails in each hand, and she'd reached down, grabbed the front of his sweatshirt with one hand, then cleaned and jerked him over the ledge.

Nicky was also a fantastically hard-working housekeeper and mother, who kept her home spotless and big home-cooked feeds on the table. Of course she bitched to her kids about how hard she worked for them, and they couldn't be happier than to see her drive off with Sidearm. When Sumner got out of the truck, he could hear Sidearm's smoke coarsened voice raging at Nicky, and knew his instinct had been unerring.

"You fuckin freezedried slut, you call this fresh coffee? You could sell it to Sears for fuckin battery acid." He rasped.

"Well pour it in your little hole, and see if you can get crankin," Nicky bellowed back.

Sumner pushed through the screen door, remarking: "You really should stop all this lovemaking."

"Lovemakin?!" Nicky sputtered, "The last time he stuck it in anything the cow wouldn't give milk for a week."

"Always liked that Dairy Air,' Sidearm said calmly, smiling at Sumner. "Sumdum the Shareman, whatcha got to share with us?" Sidearm asked. "Besides your fine aromah?" Sumner had a two-day stink of fishboat on, and he colored slightly.

"Actually, I DO have some shack, if you'd like it," he said, speaking to Nicky. Sharemen on fishboats often get to peddle some of the catch for extra wages (shack money), and Sumner was in the habit of filleting up a tubful of choice fish, and selling them door-to-door on his way home. He had an assortment on ice on the back of the Dodge.

"That's OK, Summy deah," Nicky said. "Spinball here makes this place fishy enough, but thanks." She was bustling about her gleaming kitchen, pouring some coffee for Sumner and bringing out homemade cakes and cookies.

"Jeesufee. Look at the fuckin sweets," Sidearm complained. "She don't offer me any."

"Sweets to the sweet, slime-eel," She taunted. Sumner muttered thanks and snagged a cinnamon bun.

Sidearm leaned back in his chair and put one muddy cowboy boot on the table, then put the other on top of it, heel-to-toe. Nicky swatted them off with roundhouse slap, and Sidearm laughed.

"But I really came to ask Sidearm a question," Sumner said, stuffing down the bun.

"Maybe you should take him out in the fuckin yard, with the other animals, " Nicky sputtered.

Sidearm was on his feet in a flash, scuffling his feet, bobbing and weaving, tossing shadow punches, and crowing like a cock. "Doodle-oo."

"Take that stupid little cock out of here," Nicky insisted.

"You know you love it, " Sidearm countered, as he pushed open the screen, and stepped out.

Sidearm was a skinny little guy, all of 5'5" in his stocking feet, but he was the toughest, and strongest man, pound for pound, Sumner had ever worked with. He'd seen Sidearm dragging tubs full of ice and fish piled six high, maybe 700 pounds worth, into and out of reefer trailers all day long, with only a pause to smoke and curse and spit. Missing most of his teeth from brawling, Sidearm had a nasty habit of shoving his plates in and out with his tongue while spitting, and he winked at Sumner while hawking into Nicky's flowers.

"Got something special to ship?" he asked Sumner, raising his eyebrows.

"Sweet Mother of God," Sumner thought. Does this whole town know already? Sidearm laughed at the look on Sumner's face.

"Gotcha."

Sumner dug out a pack of smokes, and offered one to Sidearm, who shook his head. Sumner took his time picking one and lighting it.

"Let's just suppose, hypothetically..." Sumner began.

"Hypodermically?" Sidearm smiled.

"For Jesus sake, Sidearm, I'm havin a hahd time with this."

"OK.. so hyper-theo-rhetically..."

"Say I come into something valuable, which happened to just fall off a truck, would you maybe know someone who could help deliver it?"

"Deliver it where?"

"Somewhere we might get paid for it."

"We?"

"Of course, we."

"So you need some truckin AND a connection?"

Sumner nodded.

"We're talking about illegal substances here, right?"

Another nod.

"Smokeables, snortables, or shootables?"

Sumner pointed to his nose.

"And how much?"

"I'm not sure, but a large quantity, I'd say."

Sidearm whistled.

"My, my. Sum Dow, I wouldn't ah taken ya for a hijackah."

"I hope I don't get taken for anythin," Sumner pleaded.

"Oh you'll get takin," Sidearm promised, "that's the game of this name. But I kin try see we keep some rubles after the ride."

"When will you know?"

"I've got a load going out today. Your fish at the Co-op, right?"

"Yeh."

"After I load you, I have to pick up Kinky's wrinks, then the highway is my way. I'll nose around," sidearm tapped his nose meaningfully, " and be back in time for the Fourth."

"Day after tomorrow?" Sumner confirmed. Sidearm nodded.

"Don't blow your cover in the tween-time," Sidearm chuckled.

"Did you really know ?" Sumner asked.

"Naw. I get asked about moving special product now and then, and you looked so white round the gills..." Sidearm let it hang.

"I'd make a great crook."

"We'll find out," Sidearm winked both eyes exaggeratedly, and stuck his upper plate out.

"Want a ride to the rig?" Sumner asked.

"No, Franks. I've still got to spread a little mustard on my honey." Sidearm said, walking toward the house.

"Thanks. See ya."

"Yuh." Sidearm screeched open the screen door again. It slammed behind him.

As Sumner got back in the Dodge, he heard Nicky bellowing, "I thought Sum had took ALL the garbage out!"

He shook his head, wondering how deep a hole he was digging himself.