Chapter 49

A day or so later, I realized that when Bobby and Tommy said they were coming home ... what they really meant...”We’re coming home without our instruments.”

After school, I made a beeline for the local music store. Nothing. Cheap drums ... Epiphone and Squire guitars, Ibanez and Yamaha 1970’s knockoffs. A Farfisa reed organ. I walked right back out. Down the street was The Two Bit. Do I really want to admit... ? What the Hell ... why not?

DING

John saved me the trouble, “Bobby called.”

“Shit!” I said.

“Karen Rachael Post!” John said. “Such language!”

I hung my head.

“He hasn’t called me. I called ... I know they’re coming home without the band equipment. I decided I’d better buy Bobby the things he’s always wanted but couldn’t afford.”

“I set it all aside.” Johnny said.

So ... I bought Bobby all the equipment he’d lusted after. Gibson Les Paul, Fender Super Twin, an older ... before CBS ... Stratocaster. A complete Carvin PA ... and every cymbal in the store.

“Johnny ... where do you get this stuff?”

He simply pointed north ... the reservation is north.

“They get loaded, get a wild hair, buy stuff, realize they have to WORK at it, and sell it to me. I get it cheaper than wholesale and they get more than Billings or Hardin will pay. I’m happy, they’re happy and I know they’ll be bringing in the Winchesters after allotment.

“Why didn’t you buy Tommy some drums?”

“I have a set of Broadkasters in the Avocado ... eight piece set ... dual bass drums. I bought them in Casper.”

“Bass for George?”

“George is staying ... he married one of the servants.”

“No wonder Bobby is pissed.”

“Not my doing ... who knew George harbored a Dom streak?”

“What? George has a whips and chains fetish?”

“Yup. Shocked me.” I said, “He had that girl naked and giving him a blow job 20 minutes after he got to my place ... in the driveway.”

“True story?”

“Yup.”

“George?”

“Took charge on the spot. Ever since I met him I’d thought he was autistic.”

“George? No ... obsessive for sure ... autistic? No,” John disagreed. “I’ve never heard George deviate from the original bass line.”

“The lead player for the Royal Toads sat in on lead. We did a number that lasted 25 minutes ... George played stuff I’d never heard,” I said.

“George?”

“Yup ... George is seriously talented.”

“Who knew?” Johnny said.

“I sure didn’t. I thought he never had an original thought in his head.”

I handed in my card, Johnny ran it, I signed. The jeep had plenty of room. I took the long way home. Through Ranchester and out Wolf Creek. I stopped at Metzger’s Mercantile and looked in my locker. Time to re-order. I was developing a taste for grass-fed beef. It’s leaner and I’d started worrying about my weight.

Mrs. Metzger buzzed me through ... the butcher shop is next door to the Mercantile.

One reason ... and I didn’t know this, I had to be informed ... one reason the meat tastes different from other butchers ... the Metzger shop has ceramic walls ... not stainless steel. Since the place has been in continuous operation, never having thawed out, the ceramic walls were grandfathered in when the state started mandating stainless.

“Ah, Miss Post ... I’m so glad you stopped in. I’ve been trying to call ... you’re never home.”

“Mr. Metzger. I know. Busy, busy, busy. What’s hanging in the ready room?”

I ended up with Canadian beef. Nobody in my area was butchering. I did get a 25 pound slab of bacon, sliced and a hundred of 93% ground round, half of it in once ground chili meat. I took a pound of twice ground home. Burgers on the wood range. Hothouse tomato, Mexican lettuce and yellow sweet onion, and a new jar of Hellmann’s Real Mayo.

I spent a little time sniffing peppercorns ... the Merc has a small display of exotics ... and sea salt. I picked an ounce of Hawaiian Red and one of Black. I added some paprika, dried minced yellow onion, garlic powder, white onion powder, black pepper and cayenne pepper ... for the burger.