BUTLER LIKED THE STORE best on Saturday when it got crowded and the ring of the register was music in his ears and coins in his pocket. He still couldn't believe the store was his, and every morning as he drove down and unlocked the door, he felt like a kid going to Candyland.
"Hey, howya doin'?" Butler smiled as Annette walked into the store wearing hot pants, a striped halter and rectangular red-tinted shades.
"Hiya." She cracked gum. "Stony around?"
"Stony? Nah. Anything wrong?"
She raised her eyebrows and shut her eyes. "You tell me." She dropped her bag on the counter.
"Whadya mean?" Butler felt wary. He leaned back on his stool, shaking a cigarette from his pack.
"I dunno, we had a couple a dates, right? Next thing I know he comes over one night insultin' the shit outta me, fuck you, fuck me, fuck us, wham bam out the door, bye-bye. Stony." She shrugged helplessly, slapping her sides on the downstroke.
"That don't sound like him." Butler studied her face, picked his teeth with his thumbnail.
"Well, look, he's your friend. I'm sure you know him better'n me, but, ah, if you want my opinion I think that kid's in trouble."
"Stony?"
"Who else we talkin' about?"
"What kinda trouble?" Butler crushed his cigarette after two puffs.
"Well. I was thinkin' about what happened, you know, like he really did me shit, I mean, he just got... nasty all of a sudden. I mean, he just about came out and called me a dirty tramp, and I showed 'im the door. At first I was just pissed, then I felt hurt, but I started thinkin'. I mean I really did some heavy-duty thinkin', and I started puttin' two an' two together. I remember the first night we had this long talk about him and that whole mess about two weeks here, two weeks there, the deals, the this, the that. I mean like he really opened up, right? I told him that he should fuck the deals an' just do what he wants, an' I knew what he wanted was to work with those kids, but he started freakin' out on me. I think he got scared. I guess nobody ever told him straight before. I mean I was workin' mainly onna hunch, but he really wigged, you know? So, what was I supposed to do, take back what I said? But ever since then he acted funny with me, like he was scared a me or somethin', until that night when he made me boot him out, an' he made me boot him out, that was as plain as the nose on my face. After I figured that out, I didn't feel mad or hurt anymore. I just felt concerned, so like I tried to call him up, but every time he hears my voice he hangs up." She took one of Butler's cigarettes, after folding her gum in a tissue. "Look"—she struck a match—"he don't wanna see me, fine, but somebody better get to that kid before he does himself in."
"Whadya mean 'does himself in'? So he jerks his old man's bird for a few weeks, then he does what he wants."
Annette smiled, her tongue slightly protruding between her teeth, and slowly shook her head.
"What, no." Butler sounded petulant, but he was starting to get worried.
"He's too scared," she whispered. "He'd never go against his old man."
"Don't sound like that to me." Butler felt shaky.
Annette smiled. "You don't think so, hah?"
Butler didn't answer.
"Well"—she grabbed her bag and hitched it over her shoulder—"I gotta go. Tell 'im I'm lookin' for 'im, although I really don't think he's gonna wanna talk to me, but, ah, you're his friend, why don't you check him out?"
"He ain't talkin' to me either."