Darkness the Color of Snow Read online

  She looked at him like he was a piece of garbage that had gotten accidentally blown up against the door. She turned and walked away but left the door open. He stood outside the storm door and waited. “Katie,” he heard. “Someone for you.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. Some boy. Deal with it.”

  Katie appeared from around the corner of the living room, also in sweatshirt and jeans. “What?”

  “I’m Ronny Forbert. I’ve seen you at school.”

  She cocked her head, like a bird trying to get a good look at something. “Yeah. I’ve seen you.”

  “We were riding around. Me and Matt and Paul Stablein and Bobby Cabella. We thought you might want to hang out for a while.”

  “Matt Laferiere?”

  “Yeah, Matt.”

  “You got booze?”

  “Yeah. Beer.”

  “That’s it?”

  “We got some weed, too.”

  “You and Matt.”

  “And Paul and Bobby, too.”

  “All right. Hang on. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  He stood by the door after she had shut it in his face. He heard the voices again, loud and angry. He heard Katie say, “Just out. I’m just going out.” Then something he couldn’t quite make out. A man’s voice. Then, Katie’s. “I’m just going to go hang out for a while. I’ll be back later.”

  Then Katie opened the door and came out. “OK, Ronny Forbert, let’s hit it.”

  Katie crawled into the backseat next to Bobby Cabella, and Ronny slid in next to her. Matt gunned the Jeep in reverse, backed into the driveway, peeled out, and headed back down Ramshead Road to the state highway.

  “I don’t seem to have a beer,” Katie said.

  Bobby Cabella leaned over the backseat, snagged a beer, and handed it to her. “We’re getting a little low on beer now that there are five of us.”

  “Katie, you got any money?” Matt asked.

  “Nope. Didn’t figure I needed any money. Is that what you guys wanted, another contribution to the beer fund? What a bunch of douchebags.”

  “Paul. How much we got? Come on, guys, let’s fork up all the money.”

  They fished in their pockets and handed up a few damp bills and a handful of change. “Not enough,” Paul said.

  “Shit.” Matt leaned into the driver’s-­side door and fished two bills out of his pocket. “How about now?”

  “Still not enough.”

  “Barry. Barry’s always got money.”

  “Hate to do that,” Matt said. “Lot of risk, not much money.”

  “Well, what else are we going to do?”

  “You sure that’s all of it? Anyone holding out?” No one was.

  “Crap. All right. Let’s go get Barry.”

  “Yeah,” Katie said. “Like we need another douchebag. I don’t see a shortage of them in here.”

  “You want beer?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Then we got to go get Barry.”

  They went up the road, onto Route 417, and pulled in to the side of the Citgo gas station.

  “All right,” Matt said. “Here’s how this is going to go. Paul, you and Bobby go in first. Ronny, you stay here until I tell you to go. Then you go in, make a lap around the store, and come back by the counter. Paul, you do the buy, and Bobby, you do the handoff. Virgie, you take the handoff. They don’t know you. Come right back to the car with the handoff. Paul and Bobby will be behind you.”

  “What’s the handoff?”

  “Just take what Bobby hands you and get back here.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to drive. Just do what you’re told. Don’t fucking hesitate. Just do it.”

  Paul and Bobby got out of the car and went into the store. Katie got out, too.

  “Where are you going?” Matt asked.

  “Front seat.” She looked at Ronny. “No offense, Ronny Forbert.”

  “Don’t get in the front seat. Stay back where you are.”

  She went around the back of the Jeep, opened the front passenger door, and slid in, right up next to Matt.

  “All right. Go in. Remember, take a lap. If there’s someone at the counter besides Paul and Bobby, take a second lap. Pretend you’re looking for something. If there’s no one, walk past the counter, as close as you can get to Bobby without looking like an asshole faggot.”

  Ronny walked into the store. Paul and Bobby were standing behind a woman at the counter who was fishing through her purse, probably looking for exact change. Neither Paul nor Bobby looked at him. He walked up the candy aisle, picking up candy bars and then putting them back. Then he walked to the back of the store and down the next aisle and stopped at the shelves of motor oil and flat fix. He read labels on plastic oil bottles.

  He saw the woman at the counter turn and start for the door. Paul and Bobby moved up. “I need a cigar,” Paul said.

  “What kind?”

  “One of those in the purple wrapper.”

  The clerk turned his back, went back to the cigar display, and looked until he saw the cigars in the purple wrappers.

  “Just one?”

  “Yeah, just one.”

  Paul examined the cigar as the clerk started to ring it up. “Anything else?”

  “No. Hold it. Hold it. This is one of those grape-­flavored faggot cigars. I don’t like these. You got any White Owls?”

  The clerk turned back to the display, put the purple cigar back, and picked up a pack of White Owls. “I got this five-­pack.”

  “No. I just want one. What do you have in singles?”

  Bobby shot a quick glance over to Ronny and made a slight nod. Ronny started down the aisle as the clerk named off the brands of single cigars.

  “I like those in the plastic tubes. They’re fresher,” Paul said.

  As Ronny came up behind him, Bobby reached out his hand and tucked something into Ronny’s belly, like a quarterback handing off a football. Ronny took it and headed for the door. He couldn’t tell what it was, only that it was plastic.

  He headed for the car, still holding it under his coat. He climbed into the backseat and saw Paul and Bobby strolling out of the store. They got into the car as Matt threw it into reverse, gunned it, and headed back to the highway.

  “Give it here,” Paul said.

  Ronny pulled it out of his coat. He could see it was a plastic tube of money.

  There was a printed label: Save a Kid. Give Your Change to the Barry Fund.

  “How much?” Matt asked.

  “There’s some bills, quite a few coins. We’re good.”

  “Should we have taken that?” Ronny asked. “I mean it’s for poor kids with cancer or something.”

  “We’re poor kids,” Matt said. “And we’re out of beer. We are saving some kids.”

  “Barry was that kid with cancer. He died.”

  “Then he doesn’t need the money, does he?”

  “I need another beer,” Katie said.

  “Get her a fresh one, Bobby. We got enough.”

  Up the road, they pulled into the liquor store lot. “Bernie’s here. We’re golden. I’ll be right back.”

  “I want Jäger,” Katie said.

  “No. We’re just getting beer.”

  “Then you jerk-­offs can just jerk off. I want Jäger. What do you want?”

  Matt came back in just a ­couple of minutes, lugging a thirty-­pack of Natty Lights. When he got into the car, he pulled a paper bag out of his coat and handed it to Katie.

  “This is a little bottle.”

  “And you’re a little ho. Drink it and shut up.”

  RONNY SAW WHERE Matt was headed as soon as he turned off the state highway—­the old gravel pit, now an unofficial town d
ump. The Cherokee pitched and rolled as they headed down the dirt road that ended at the pit. His heart quickened a bit. He hoped that they had brought guns, though he wasn’t sure that there was enough moonlight to really hit anything.

  Katie fumbled the beer that Cabella passed over, and she bent over to pick it up off the floor.

  “Don’t open that,” Matt said.

  There was a woosh, and a few drops of spray hit Ronny, though most of it stayed in the front seat.

  “Fuck,” Matt said. “I told you not to open it.”

  Katie said nothing as she jammed her mouth over the opening in the top of the can, glugging the spray down as fast as she could.

  “Beer can kill,” she said, at last, gulping for air. “But not that way. Don’t be pussies.”

  They came to the end of the road and parked over the gravel pit.

  “We should have brought guns,” Stablein said.

  Shit, Ronny thought. This wasn’t for shooting. This was for partying, partying with Katie. He began to feel apprehension closing around him. Stablein, Katie, then Matt got out of the Jeep. Cabella and Ronny stayed put in the backseat for a while, but when Bobby opened his door, Ronny opened his, too.

  “Shit, it’s cold out here,” Katie said. “Get me another beer.”

  “Stiffening your nipples, Kates?”

  Katie flipped the finger, then ran her hand over her left breast. “That part’s working.”

  Ronny reached back into the Jeep and fished out another beer and handed it to her.

  She pulled up her sweatshirt and bra in one motion and rolled the can across her breasts. She laughed. “Don’t get close. These things can poke your eye out.” She looked at Ronny and pulled her clothes back down.

  “We need to build a fire,” Stablein said. “Come on, Bobby, let’s find some wood in this shit pile.”

  Ronny, Matt, and Katie stood in a loose group while Stablein and Cabella went down into the gravel pit.

  “Shit, it’s fucking cold here,” Katie said. “Let’s get back in the car, Matt.” The three of them looked at one another.

  “You and Virgie here can go back in the car if you want,” Matt said. “I’m staying out here for a while.”

  Katie regarded Ronny with indifference. “Come on, Matt. I’m freezing my tits off.”

  “Don’t do that. Ronny, take her back to the car. Warm her up.”

  “Come on,” Ronny said. “You’re right. It’s fucking cold out here.” He went back to the Jeep. Katie lingered outside with Matt, then shrugged and came over to the Jeep and slid in the backseat with Ronny.

  “So, what’s your plan, Virgie?”

  “I, I didn’t really make any.”

  “Well, see what you can come up with. It’s not that warm in here, either.”

  Ronny reached over and cupped her breast in his hand and squeezed carefully.

  “There’s a thrill. Stop, stop. I think I’m going to come.” Ronny pulled his hand back.

  He could see, or at least thought he could see, Katie smirk.

  “So, the ‘virgie’ part for real?”

  “No,” Ronny lied. “No, not at all.”

  “Didn’t think so. You got real smooth moves. Like an old pro.” She reached down to his crotch, felt for his penis and squeezed. “What’s the matter? This all too exciting for you?”

  “No. It’s just cold, that’s all.” He reached down to her crotch and began to rub. She scooted down in the seat a little and opened her legs some.

  “Found it.” She flipped her empty beer can behind the seat. He continued to rub her through her jeans.

  “Hang on, Johnny Wadd. I need some Jäger.” She turned over, leaned over the backseat, got the bottle, opened it, and took a long swallow. He ran his hand over her ass. He felt her jeans loosen, then start to slide down. He ran his hand down between her jeans and her buttocks, sliding between them and down, feeling the warmth of her crotch, and a lot of pimples.

  She stayed that way for a minute, sliding her jeans down farther until her whole ass was available for his hand. “If you’re done back there,” she said, “I’d like to turn around. It’s not real comfortable over this car seat.” She turned over and slid down into the car seat again, tugging her jeans nearly to her knees.

  He slid his hand over the fold of her belly, down past a small patch of pubic hair and around the stubble of her mons. His finger slid down into the slippery warmth of her vagina. She put her hand over his and pushed it farther into her.

  He continued to slide his finger in and out, then around. He was aware of where her clitoris was supposed to be and knew it was important to find it and work on it, but he couldn’t actually locate it. Outside the windshield, which was beginning to frost up, he saw the spark and flare of a fire being started.

  “Is this working for you?” she said.

  Disappointed, he stopped, and she pulled his hand out from between her legs and pushed him back and started unbuckling his belt. She undid his jeans and tugged them down as he lifted his hips for her. She reached into his underwear and took his slowly erecting penis in her hand. “I don’t know why I always have to do all the work.” She pulled at him a few times, then bent over and put her mouth over his penis.

  He had a sudden, hard inhalation that come out as a gasp. He shut his eyes and leaned back as she moved her head up and down in his lap. Blow job, he thought. I’m getting a blow job, and kept repeating that to himself, trying to maintain his erection.

  When he finally came, she kept working on him with her mouth until the sensation was so strong that it was almost, or something like, painful. He pushed her head away.

  SHE TOOK ANOTHER long swig of the Jägermeister. “All right, scout. You’re done.” She climbed over him and crawled out of the Jeep, still adjusting her clothes. Ronny pulled up his jeans, buckled his belt, and started out after her. “Bring me a beer,” she yelled.

  They had a small, smoky fire going at the edge of the gravel pit. There was a small pile of wood, mostly broken-­up furniture it looked like to Ronny, and Matt, Paul, and Bobby stood around it, staring into the fire and drinking beer. Katie moved into the group, standing next to Matt, leaning in toward him. Ronny followed, taking a place next to Bobby, as far away from Katie as he could get.

  “You two have a good time?” Matt asked.

  Katie just worked on her beer, so Ronny finally said, “Yeah. Great.”

  “Great,” Katie said.

  “This fire isn’t giving off a lot of heat.”

  “That’s because it’s mostly paper and stuffing from a car seat. As soon as we get some real wood on it, it’ll take off,” Paul said.

  Ronny looked at the pile of wood. Most of the busted-­up furniture seemed to be particleboard with vinyl veneer. His father spent a lot of time bitching about that stuff. It was more glue and shit than wood. The fumes it gave off would be toxic, and they would drift his way in the slight breeze that was blowing. He thought of moving over toward Matt, but he wanted to keep his distance from Katie.

  “That’s not really wood. That’s some bad shit, full of arsenic and other shit.”

  Matt regarded him. “So?”

  “The smoke will be like poisonous.”

  Matt gestured down into the pit. “You don’t like it, go down there and get what you want.”

  “There’s not much light,” Bobby said.

  He didn’t want to go down into the pit in the dark, but Ronny figured his old man had to be right about something. And since he was a carpenter, this would probably be it. “Come on,” he said, nudging Bobby. “Let’s go find some real wood.”

  “I’ve already been down there. Go by yourself.”

  He looked around. It seemed like everyone was smirking at him. He turned and trudged down into the pit.

  There was junk everywhere. It had been totally cool when
he was walking through it with a gun in his hand and another one tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Now it was just a jumble of shit no one wanted. He could barely make out the stuff he was seeing. He picked up a small branch that looked like it came from a bush someone had trimmed. He bent the branch. It was still green and wouldn’t burn so much as smolder. He kicked at a ­couple of things he couldn’t really identify. He listened. Aluminum.

  Finally he found an old spindle-­back chair. You couldn’t make a chair like that out of anything but wood. He picked it up and put it behind him. He saw what looked like some two-­by pine. He gave it a tug and it budged just a little. It was probably a wooden pallet from some business. He got both hands on it and yanked. He could hear a lot of stuff falling and resettling as he got it free.

  He took the pallet in one hand and the chair in the other. The chair was easy. It weighed almost nothing. The pallet, however, was heavy, and though busted, it was still nailed together and awkward. He worked his way back up the dirt path, carrying the chair and dragging the pallet, jerking it through the dirt. The corner that was down kept snagging on rocks and tire ruts. He tried to right it so it would slide across the ground, but its off-­balance weight kept the corner dragging on the ground. As he worked his way back up toward the fire, he heard them all laughing.

  “Well, this piece of shit—­” He swung it in front of him and flat onto the ground. “—­is heavy. You try dragging it up the path.”

  They all looked at him as though he had said something that made no sense at all. Katie opened her mouth wide and stuck her tongue out all the way over her lower lip. She closed her mouth and spit. Everyone laughed again.

  He kicked the chair, heard it crack as pieces of the back flew off it. He fumbled around in the low light, picking up pieces of the chair, and brought them back and threw them on the fire. The fire died down then blazed up again. “Now we’re going to have a fire,” he said.

  “Come on,” Katie said to Matt. “Let’s go back to the car while these guys get a real fire going.”

  “Nah,” Matt said. “I want to watch the fire.”

  “I’ll go,” Paul said.

  Katie regarded him. “How much do you think you get for a few beers?”

  Paul kicked dirt at the fire.