Kenny grimaced in pain as he hobbled toward Boss. He was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. The old woman had done more damage than he’d initially thought. He didn’t just have a broken arm and a broken rib or two. He was beginning to think there was something wrong with one or both of his lungs.
Boss sat up slowly. “The biggest fucking idiot on my payroll, and he’s the one that’s gonna close me out. Ain’t life just a bowl of shit?”
“Them girls,” Kenny said with a wheeze. “I never would have believed such a thing, Boss.”
“Believed what, fatass?”
“Always knew you was a bastard and a half, but I didn’t figure you for a kid taker.”
Boss rolled his eyes. “You forgetting what you do for a living, Kenny?”
Kenny couldn’t hold the gun up anymore. He let his arm fall to his side. “Did. Ain’t doing it no more. Not in the same manner I used to, anyway.”
“So that makes you a saint now? Killing’s killing, Kenny. There ain’t no other way to cut it.”
“I thought I was closing out folks like you. Now I know different.”
“You closed out deadbeats and sellouts, fatass. They weren’t good people. You can rest easy about that. They got into their situations all on their own. They made bad choices.” He sniffed the gasoline on his hands. “Those bad choices come with consequences. You know what that makes you, don’t you?”
Kenny shook his head.
“That makes you the consequence.”
Kenny’s wheezing became more pronounced. “That’s a fair thing to say.” He used every bit of strength he had left to lift the gun and aim it at Boss. “I suppose that makes me your consequence.”
Boss smiled. “Don’t shoot.”
Confused by his smile, Kenny said, “We’re headed in that direction anyway. Might as well get it over with.”
“I ain’t talking to you,” Boss said.
Kenny furrowed his brow and then noticed that Boss was looking past him. He turned, groaning in pain as he did. There, standing just a few feet away, was a man he didn’t know pointing a pistol at him.
Boss stood. “Kenny, say hello to Taylor.”
“Drop your gun,” Taylor said.
“Where’d you come from?” Kenny asked.
“The plane.”
“He’s the pilot, fatass. Y’all failed to take him into account. Good Lord, boy, you and Step are about two of the dumbest motherfuckers that I’ve ever met.”
“Drop the gun,” Taylor repeated.
Kenny looked at the gun in the pilot’s trembling hand.
Taylor felt panicked when Kenny refused to comply. “Drop it!”
“You ain’t never killed anyone before, have you?” Kenny asked.
The chubby closeout king felt something hit him across the back, and he gasped wildly as he struggled to move air in and out of his lungs. Falling to the ground, he saw Boss holding a broken two-by-four in his hands.