Duncan Delaney and the Cadillac of Doom Read Online Free Page B

tugged off his new Italian boots. Duncan lay back in pain and amazement. He slowly sat up. Tiffy kicked his hat across the porch.
    “Hey!” Duncan said, overcome with deja vu, “that’s my hat!”
    “Screw your hat!” Tiffy screamed. “Screw your painting!” She flung the boots at his face. Duncan caught them. “And screw you!”
    She wrenched the boots from his hands, ran into the house, and slammed the door after her. Duncan stood and slapped a dirty cloud from his jeans. He dusted off his hat and straightened the brim. He walked down the drive to the sidewalk. Tiffy’s words bit into his heart like the gravel bit into his bootless feet. He looked back. The front door remained shut and cold. He got in his van and drove to the corner where Danny skulked. He rolled down his window.
    “Go on back, Danny,” he said. “We took care of business.”
    “You don’t care?”
    “Any reason I should?”
    “None comes to mind.”
    “Go on, then.”
    “Well,” Danny said, “see you.”
    As Duncan drove away he saw Danny in his rear view mirror, sprinting as best he could back to the Bradshaw house. Duncan stopped at the corner and closed his eyes, afraid to feel anything lest the feelings overwhelm him, until a restless motorist honked behind him. He opened his eyes, took his foot off the brake, and drove slowly back to the Circle D.
       
    Benjamin was waiting on the porch with his toolbox handy beside him when Duncan arrived home. He looked at Duncan’s feet, but said nothing. Duncan fished his old boots from the garbage can by the back porch and put them on. He got two beers from the kitchen and returned to the van. Benjamin had changed into greasy overalls and was already swapping spark plugs. Duncan gave him a beer.
    “I take it she’s not going with you,” Benjamin said.
    The enormity of Duncan’s loss commenced to demand notice. He took a deep breath and a profound pull off his beer. A lone tear, a clear dew drop condensed on a cold window to his heart, spilled from his eye and ran down his cheek. He brushed the tear away with the back of his hand.
    “Doesn’t look like it,” he finally said.
       
    Duncan packed while Benjamin labored on the van. He crammed a suitcase full with jeans, sweaters, and t-shirts. He loaded another with socks, underwear and tennis shoes. He put his toothbrush, toothpaste, and a cake of soap into an overnight bag along with a razor, deodorant, and a bottle of shampoo. He dismantled his easel and put his paints in a case with his pallet and brushes. He packed his stereo and took his sleeping bag down from a shelf in his closet. He packed like a sleepwalker, and when the Volkswagen was full and he stood dazed beside it, he could not remember having loaded it. Benjamin slid out from beneath the van and wiped the grease from his hands with a rag.
    “It runs better,” he said. “It still leaks oil, but if you check it every hundred miles or so you’ll be okay.”
    “Thanks, buddy.” Duncan felt overpowering afraid and lonesome. “Why don’t you come with me?”
    “I still have six days to serve.”
    “Right. I forgot.” Duncan kicked dirt. “I’ll write when I get settled.”
    Benjamin faltered, then clumsily hugged Duncan. He let go and got in his truck.
    “See you, buddy,” he said. Then he was gone.
    Duncan walked through his room one last time. He picked up the photograph of himself and Tiffy at the rodeo. For the first time, he saw that she did not really smile. Her lips were turned up, and you could see white teeth and pink gums, but her eyes were distant and cold. Duncan’s smile should have been wide enough for them both. But that was not how it worked. He set the picture face down on the dresser and picked up the earring beside it. He found a pen and a slip of paper and wrote. He left the note on the kitchen table and the earring on top of the note.
    Gone to California, the note said, love Duncan.
    Half a mile down the road he saw his mother’s