CW: Violence
Barny let the heavy door slam in his son’s face. The boy struggled to pull it open against the storm-driven wind, his gloveless hands already numb from the short walk from his father’s USPS mail truck. The streetlights popped on as he pried the door open and slid into the bar’s vestibule, tendrils of dry snow swirling in behind him.
The boy overheard his old man say, “that pussy is still outside fighting your door,” when he got inside. The boy brushed off his thin camo jacket, and stamped caked snow from his boot lug soles on the industrial black rubber mat. He could see the trail of melting snow leading to his old man’s stool; the bastard was already wrapping on the bar for his boiler maker. The boy sat at a high top in the back corner, behind the pool table, and fished his math book from his backpack.
Gillian, the barkeep, smiled as she approached the boy with a Coke. Barny turned to look at her, half gawking at her ass, half-sneering for bringing the kid a free drink.
The kid thanked her, too shy to make eye contact for more than a second, but still managing to sneak a peek down her flannel shirt at her cleavage. Gillian knew that’s what fifteen-year-old boys did; it was what all men wanted after all. Feeling sorry for the boy, she didn’t mind him looking.
“What are you working on today?” she asked.
“Algebra 2…it’s pre-calculus,” the boy answered.
Gillian raised an eyebrow.
“Smart kid, eh? Must be from your mom’s side.”
Barny spun on his bar stool, a beer in his hand.
“He’s as stupid as his worthless mother. But I’m teaching him what he needs to know.”
“You’re an asshole, Barny,” Gillian said.
The boy rolled his eyes. His old man glared and pointed at him. Shit, he saw me…
Barny turned back to his drinks.
Gillian put her hand on the kid’s forearm. In a whisper, she asked him about the bruised lump over his eye. He looked down and shook his head.
“That fucker…”
##
Barny slid Ray, the bar owner, a manilla envelope across the bar.
“Some good stuff in there. I could use the extra cash,” Barny said.
“This is International Falls, not Twin Cities. You’re gonna get popped if you keep stealing mail. Jesus, there are only two of you working in the post office. And if they start looking into things they ain’t gonna be looking at Mildred.”
Ray pushed the envelope back to him.
“Then it’s a quick path to me. We can do this one, two times a year max. Return this shit and maybe we can do another run this summer. Let’s see if there’s any heat from the last one before we go again.”
Barny scowled, took the envelope, set it on the stool next to him, and ordered another round.
“Your loss. You’re too worried about that idiot postal inspector. The guy working these parts is a real fucking moron. But, hey, no worries. I got a guy across the border who’s interested in doing business with me if you ain’t.”
Ray just looked at him hard, then went back down the bar to check on the only other afternoon regular in the place.
##
Gillian checked on the kid twice more. The last time, it was nearing 6:00 p.m. and the bar was near-full.
“You finish your homework?” she asked.
“Yep. Been done for a while now. Just waiting to go home.”
“Your mom have dinner waiting for you and your old man when you get home?” She asked.
“Some nights. Most nights she’s already in bed or asleep in her chair with the TV going. My old man stops at McDonald’s most nights anyway,” the kid said.
“You shouldn’t be eating that shit all the time,” Gillian said.
“Oh, I don’t. He won’t buy me any. Says I can buy my own food if I want it. I don’t have money so…”
Gillian shook her head. She reached into her hip pocket and pulled out a wad of crumpled bills she’d gotten in tips. She pulled out a five and seven ones and handed them to the kid.
“Buy yourself dinner on me tonight,” she said.
The boy looked at her and smiled. Then he pushed the money back to her across the table.
“You’d just be buying him dinner.”
Barny finished his third round of boiler makers, dropped a twenty and a five on the bar, and put his empty shot glass on it. He stood up and pulled on his uniform coat. He gave Ray a heil-Hitler salute, then headed for the door.
“Hurry up shit-stain,” he said to the kid as he walked out the door.
The kid hurried to follow him out. He smiled at Gillian before the door swung shut behind him. She waved, but he was already gone.
##
“Can I talk to you?” Gillian asked.
“Shoot,” Ray said, continuing to clean the bar top.
Gillian continued washing glasses. She cleared her throat.
“I wanted to wait until we were closed to bring this up. And Ray, you know I’m loyal and keep shit to myself…”
“Spit it out, hun. What’s the problem?” Ray asked.
“That fucking asshole Barny is abusing that poor kid. He needs his ass beat. Can you say something to him? I…he’d be afraid to cross you if you told him to back off the kid.”
Ray shook his head, looked pissed off. Gillian was about to retract her request when Ray spoke.
“Yeah. That mother fucker is a problem in more ways than one. Listen…I respect you for bringing it up. I’m going to take care of it. Was going to anyway after the shit he pulled on me today. Do me a favor–keep watching out for the kid. His mom’s a drunken piece of shit, too.”
##
Barny lay flat on the floor of the walk-in freezer, a puddle of blood running from a gash in his eyebrow turning to slush on the floor. He was naked except for his uniform socks; his hands zip-tied together behind his back. Ray, his brother Sammy, and Carl Sanders, their partner, stood over Barny. Carl kicked Barny in the ribs again.
“Let’s go over this again. Who the fuck did you tell about our arrangement over in St. Charles?” Ray asked.
Barny groaned.
“My fucking answer isn’t going to change. I told Brian Miller. That’s it. We fish together. Please, man, I’ll pay you to let me go.”
Sammy bent over and slapped Barny hard on the ear. Barny cried out and hit his head on the concrete floor.
“You got cash stashed someplace? Huh. More stolen mail? Where the fuck is it?” Sammy asked.
Before he could answer, Carl kicked Barny in the ass, leaving a visible bruise in the pattern of a boot print.
“Fuck. Stop. Please. Stop…I have a stack of credit cards, some blank bank checks, and about $2,000 in a box hidden in the clean-out on my chimney. Door is on the outside of the house. You can go get it now. Please. It’s all yours, please just stop.”
“Sammy, you know where this ass-clown lives?” Ray asked.
“Corner of Maple and Main, that shitty white house that needs paint with the rusted pickup on the grass…”
“Yeah, that’s it. Go on over and get that box,” Ray said.
“And, Barny, if you’re lying to us…I’m going to cut your dick off and skull fuck you with it.” Carl said.
##
Twenty minutes later, $1,896 in cash sat on a box of frozen burgers along with the other pilfered mail. Ray looked down at Barny. He was shivering, his skin blue.
“I to…tol…told you, man. I’m ffffree-freee-freezing…let…me…go,” Barny said.
“Get him up,” Ray said.
Sammy and Carl each grabbed an arm. They hoisted him to his feet, keeping a tight grip on his arms.
“You piece of shit. I should’ve known better than getting into bed with a loser like you. Had you just fucked me, I might’ve let you off with this beating. But you’re the kind of asshole who beats his kid. This is for him…” Ray said.
Barny only got out, “What the fuck does…” before Ray pulled the plastic garbage bag from his pocket and pulled it over Barny’s head. Barny struggled. Ray punched him hard in the face–the crunch of Barny’s nose breaking was audible beneath the plastic bag. Barny went limp. Ray took a roll of duct tape from his jacket pocket and made several tight wraps around Barny’s neck. Sammy and Carl pushed Barny to the floor. All three men kicked him until he stopped moving and took in his last breath.
“You know where to dump him. Wrap those fucking credit cards and that mail up with his body.”
##
The kid sat at a table in the library doing his homework. He looked surprised to see Gillian standing there.
“Hey, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” the kid asked.
“Ray sent me over to find you. Sucks your old man took off,” she said.
The kid looked at her, then dropped his eyes.
“I don’t miss him. But he left us with no money. My mom left me alone two nights ago and hasn’t been back. I don’t even know where she went. Most of her clothes are gone.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here. Ray wants to give you an afterschool job. He needs help stocking the bar, sweeping, shoveling the walkway…stuff like that. It comes with room and board at my house. You’d have your own room. But school comes first…what do you think?” she asked.
“Seriously? What about my mom? What if my dad…what if he comes back?” the boy asked.
“They aren’t coming back. But I think you already knew that…”
The kid looked down. He didn’t say anything but packed up his books and put on his coat.
“Can we stop by my place to get my clothes?”
“Sure, hun,” she said.
Outside, the snow had piled high and was still coming down. The kid brushed off Gillian’s windshield with his gloves before he got in the car. The kid told her where he lived. She drove. Through the quiet streets, Christmas lights twinkled on the little houses, the ones that didn’t always get their mail, making the sad little town look somehow happier.
“Hey, you were supposed to turn back there,” the kid said.
“I know,” she said.
The kid didn’t say anything.
A block up, she turned into McDonald’s.
The kid looked away from her and ran his coat sleeve across his eyes.
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