“You know what I can’t figure? I can’t figure why that gal with the big ass is famous.” Kenny Fable squeezed the bill of his crud-covered hat, shifted his gaze out the passenger-side window of the truck, then returned his focus to his bill-shaping efforts.
“Which gal with the big ass?” Step Crawford asked with his hand out the driver-side window, flicking ashes from his Porter 100 cigarette on the damp pavement below.
“You know, kind of pretty, thick as she is, married that rapper fella, had that baby they named Sandwich or Peanut or some silly shit like that.”
Step hocked up a chunk of mucus and spit it out the window. “Oh, that one. She’s famous for having a big ass.”
Kenny nodded as if that made sense. “What other big-assed gal is there?”
“Huh?”
“You asked which one. Means there must be a couple to choose from.”
Step shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s a few of them running around out there. Don’t really give a shit.”
“Why do you reckon that is?” Kenny asked, still trying to get his cap just right. His thick fingers clasped the stiff bill on either side and flexed slowly as he molded it into a piece of art.
“Why do I reckon what is?” Step asked rubbing his sharp, scratchy jawline with his dirty, callused fingers.
“There’s so many of those plump-bottomed girls now?”
“There’s always been plump-bottomed girls.”
Kenny rolled his eyes. “I know that, but didn’t none of them make a living off it before. They did just about all they could to rid themselves of it, matter of fact.”
The door to Son Crow’s Tavern opened and Step stretched his skinny neck forward and squinted. A short, fat man stood under the glow of the light above the entrance and lit up a cigarette. “That him?”
Kenny looked up and quickly said, “Nope. Too short.”
Step sucked on the filter of his Porter 100.
“Well, what’s your theory?” Kenny asked, back to toying with his hat.
“About what?”
“The gals, Step. The ones with the big asses. How come they’re so popular now?”
Step huffed out a stream of smoke and frowned. “Christ, you ain’t gonna let up on this, are you? If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because that anal sex has become so popular. One’s got to do with the other, most likely.”
Kenny snarled and shook his head. “That don’t make sense. Gals with small asses do butt sex, too.”
“Yeah,” Step said with a nod, “but they probably get picked at the end of the night. It’s the order of things. Big-assed gals go first. Then the skinny-assed ones are picked.”
“Picked where?”
“I don’t know, at a party or bar or any such social situation.”
Kenny gave the bill of his hat one last squeeze and then studied it. “So you’re saying that fellas that like butt sex like big-assed women?”
“I am saying that, yes,” Step said before he took another drag from his cigarette.
Satisfied the bill was just right, Kenny stuck his hat on his head. “But there ain’t no particular kind of woman a biblical-sex fella likes, so why are butt-sex fellas so fixed on the big asses?”
Step swallowed his smoke. “Why the fuck does it matter?”
“It’s just a curious thing is all.”
Rolling his eyes, Step decided his partner wasn’t going to give up on the topic. “Think about it. The back of a woman ain’t got a whole lot going on. You saddle a man with a skinny gal with a bony ass, and he’s liable to go out of his mind trying to figure out what to do with his hands. A big ass gives a fella something to occupy himself with and get his mind off the fact that he’s got his dick in a place that cranks out shit…”
Another man came out of the bar. Kenny stuck his head out the window and looked him over. “That’s him.” He leaned forward, opened the glove compartment, and pulled out a 9mm pistol. After checking the magazine, he exited the vehicle. Before heading toward Son’s, he hoisted himself up on the running board and stuck his head back in the truck. “What about fella-on-fella?”
“What about it?”
“Does that whole big ass thing go on with them?”
Step stopped short of sticking the cigarette in his mouth as he considered Kenny’s question. “Nah, fellas got more going on back-wise.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well, a good number of them fella-on-fella lovers got hair on their backs. That sort of thing can keep you entertained.”
This made sense to Kenny. “What about the fellas without hair?”
“Same thing with big ass versus skinny ass. Hairless-back fellas get picked last.”
Kenny smiled and shook his head. “We sure live in strange times when a big ass and a hairy back get picked first at parties.”
Step looked at his watch. “Get on with our business. I’m set to meet up with Bones after her shift.”
Kenny cocked a grin and shouted out as he walked away, “Bones must have a hairy back because her ass ain’t big at all.” He quickened his pace as he moved through the darkness toward Son’s. The two men out front paid little attention to him as they talked and puffed away on their cigarettes. As far as they were concerned, he was just another drunkard in need of a tumbler or two.
Step propped his forearms on the steering wheel and watched Kenny approach the two men. The man with the perfectly arched bill on his cap called out to them and they turned his way cautiously, but were otherwise unthreatened by his presence. The taller of the two men said something to Kenny. Kenny responded by aiming his gun and shooting the man in the head. The bullet entered through the right temple and blew the taller man’s ear to bloody pieces as it exited.
The shorter man stood stunned as his friend collapsed to the wet sidewalk. Kenny turned the gun on him and attempted to pull the trigger, but it locked up. The stocky man turned and ran into the middle of the street. Kenny struggled with the gun a few seconds longer and then yelled out to Step, “Gun’s jammed!”
Step flicked his smoldering cigarette out the window before he threw the truck into drive. The tires squealed as he raced toward the fleeing, squat man. For whatever reason, the fool never left the road. Like an idiot, he followed the solid yellow lines in the middle of the cracked street. It took just a few seconds before Step struck the man in the middle of his back with his bumper. The front end of the truck lifted up slightly as it passed over the portly little man and dragged him down the street.
By the time the vehicle came to a stop at the only traffic light in town, Kenny had caught up to it and was pounding on the back side panel. He grabbed the bed as he bent over to catch his breath. “Sorry about that, Step. Fucking gun’s a piece of shit.”
“Get in, goddamn it. I gotta clean the truck now before I pick up Bones.”
Kenny opened the passenger door and climbed inside. “Gotta be more mindful of who we steal guns from. People just ain’t got no concept of responsible gun ownership these days. Gives the NRA a bad name.”
Step shrugged. “What’s done is done. We’ll get paid just the same.”
“I suppose,” Kenny said, removing his hat. He groaned when he realized the arch in the bill hadn’t kept its shape. His thick fingers got to work molding it into a form he could abide.