Snow in Texas

Chapter Five: Colin

Five

Colin

There were worse jobs than scrubbing bathrooms. He knew that. It didn't make it any more fun, though. After a life lived in various relative's houses, hotels, the occasional girlfriend's apartment, he'd never lingered long enough anywhere to be held responsible for its cleanliness. The first time he'd tackled the New Orleans shared half-bath, Bob had come in behind him, discovered missed flecks of soap scum, and withheld dinner.

Withheld dinner.

Now, he was a bathroom expert.

At ten after one, Colin wheeled the mop bucket into the utility closet, shut the door with a determined thump, and reached to knuckle the stiffness from his lower back. Jinx had awakened him at six-thirty that morning, and told him to clean everything. It didn't matter that the clubhouse was more or less spotless; he'd swept, mopped, polished, buffed, washed, and dusted all that he could. He'd saved the bathrooms for last, and here it was, middle of the day, and he was done. It spoke positively of keeping a clean house. Less maintenance work.

He turned around, thinking about lunch...

And nearly collided with the twins. Both stood beside him in the hall, silent and stone-faced, The Shining style.

"Jesus!" he swore, his voice coming out super-Cajun in his sudden fright.

"Hey," one of them said. Who knew whether it was Catcher or Cletus; they were damn identical.

"Candy wants you to go pick up lunch," the other one said.

"Yeah?" He massaged his chest where his heartbeat needed some coaxing to return to normal. When neither of them responded, he said, "Uh, yeah. I don't have a car. And I have no idea where anything is."

One of them held out a set of keys. "Green truck out front. Go to Gabe's."

"Okay." He had no idea where that was. Did he go left or right out of the drive? What the fuck? "Okay," he said again, and got nothing in return.

"Fuck me," he muttered, palming the keys and moving down the hall.

It was staggering to step outside into the sunshine. Only once he was squinting did he realized he'd spent all day so far indoors, and that wasn't at all normal for him.

Pre-Lean Dogs, that was.

A handful of guys were standing in the front lawn, groupies, hanging off their arms.

He spotted Jinx and shaded his eyes against the sun. "Hey, where's Gabe's?"

The bearded, severely tatted member flicked his cig butt into the dirt and regarded him a moment, that same assessing glance everyone gave him. "Go about a mile and a half north, and it'll be on your right, can't miss it. Tell Jen we want the usual."

Colin ducked his head respectfully. On the inside, it killed him. But he knew he had to go through those motions or risk expulsion. And given that he had no plans for the future, he had no alternative but to patch in and become a Dog.

The green truck turned out to be a fifteen-year-old Dodge that took two tries to start, and smelled of smoke and BO. But it was a set of wheels, which was more than he had.

Even if he hadn't been given directions, he could have found Gabe's. Endless stretches of desert gave way to a big roadside sign announced Gabe's Just Ahead and then there was the place itself, the parking lot welcoming him with another sign. He turned in, pulling up to a small building framed in rough cut timbers, cars jammed up at the curb. A narrow porch ran along the front of the restaurant, decorated with rocking chairs. A steer skull was mounted above the door.