“No games, son. You know what I’m talking about. We’re at the place where some go one way, and the rest go the other. Forrest means to leave all this behind him. And by ‘this’ I mean ‘us.’ He wants to go with the moneymen and the power whores in New Orleans and Baton Rouge. He thinks he can step right up into that life and it will be great. And he’s gonna tell you that you can do it, too, if he hasn’t already.”

Billy wished he would simply pass out, so he wouldn’t have to lie anymore. He could hardly believe that three days ago he’d been trying to hire Jimmy Buffett for his forty-fourth birthday party. Now he couldn’t imagine celebrating anything, except staying out of prison.

“The truth is,” Snake went on, “you’d do better in that world than Forrest ever would. Because Forrest has got something in him that you don’t.”

“What’s that?”

“Self-destruction.”

Billy blinked and leaned forward. “What are you talking about? Forrest is the most careful guy I know.”

“You think that because you don’t really know him.”

“What? I’ve known him all my life.”

Snake reached out and took a slug straight from the bourbon bottle. “How much do you remember about Granddaddy Elam?”

“Not much. I remember that weird hat he’d wear, like something from pilgrim times. The Scarlet Letter or something.”

Snake chuckled darkly. “Yeah. He was a lay preacher, and he wore that thing to impress the suckers. God only knows how many offering plates he robbed and children he fucked in that old hat.”

Billy blinked in surprise, unsure that he’d heard correctly. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing but life. The truth of it. And one truth is, when your own daddy fucks you in the ass, you ain’t ever the same.”

When your own daddy fucks you in the ass . . . ? “Are you saying Uncle Frank was molested by Granddad?”

“Not just Frank. Frank, some of the cousins, God knows how many kids in Elam’s various flocks . . . and me, of course.”

It was all Billy could do to stop himself from disgorging the liquor he’d drunk. “You?”

“Sure. I was there, wasn’t I? And I was too little to stop him. That’s all old Elam needed, boy.” Snake shook his head and sucked his teeth the way Robert Duvall sometimes did in the movies.

As far as Billy was concerned, this was no longer a two-way conversation. His father had the floor. Snake seemed to sense this, because he began to speak without prompting.

“When that kind of shit happens to most people, they either bury it and move on, or it buries them. I’ve seen it bury people. We had a cousin who killed herself when she was fourteen. But Frank . . . he buried it. Most people never suspected a thing.”

“And you?”

Snake waved his hand. “I’m different. I didn’t have to bury it. It’s like prison, you know?”

Billy’s stomach rolled again. He did know, and he didn’t want to be reminded.

“That kind of shit’s generally gonna happen when you’re inside,” Snake said, “and if it does, it does. Ain’t no different than getting stabbed or having your head stove in, if you look at it right. Except it tends to happen regular until you find yourself some protection. Anyway . . . Frank buried what your granddaddy done and moved on. But it was always part of him. You follow?”

“I guess.”

“See, what people sensed in Frank was this burning thing, but cold at the same time, like a cold flame. Some things he did during the war—crazy, heroic things—I knew it was that pain driving him. Even if he didn’t know . . . I did.

“But it’s a funny thing, Bill. You can hate the person who does that to you, and yet still become like them. It’s like you absorb part of them with their damn spunk—part of their black soul. Especially if you’re young.”

“Daddy, I don’t think I—”

“Oh, you’re gonna listen,” Snake said. “You’ve got to hear this. See, when your old man does that to you, the way Elam did us, it can turn you inside out. At some level, you realize that you came into the damned world through that man’s dick. Then you find yourself lying under him with a pillow or a sock stuffed in your mouth, screaming while he’s shoving it into you. . . . That’s about as painful as it gets, in every meaning of the word. That’s what taught me the first law of the damned universe.”

“Which is?”

“Pain begets pain, boy. If that ain’t in the Bible, it ought to be.”

Billy looked at the liquor bottle, but when he nearly lost his supper, he focused back on his father. “Daddy, why are you telling me this?”

“I’m trying to save you. And myself. People think I’m crazy, I know that. Hell, I like ’em to think that. It makes life easier in a lot of ways. And I may be a little crazy. Who ain’t? But I’m crazy like a fox, Billy boy. Because I always rein it in before things spin quite out of control. A crop duster don’t get to be my age without knowing how to rein it in.

“But Frank . . . he was the opposite. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he was cool as ice. But one time in a hundred, he was gonna jump off the rails and do something so extreme you couldn’t believe it.”

“Like?”

“Hell, it don’t matter now. Things somebody like you couldn’t even imagine. My point is, Forrest has that in him, too.”

Billy shook his head, not quite believing this.

“You ever notice how he is with women?”

Billy had heard stories, but he motioned for his father to continue.

“Sure, I’ll slap a woman around if she gives me attitude,” Snake said, “and I like rough pussy. But Forrest is different. He’ll really hurt a woman, and worse, he’ll enjoy it. Not just physically either. He likes breaking women down.”

“He’s been with his wife a long time.”

“His second wife. The first one died. And it’s a good thing nobody looked too close at that. But there’s two reasons that second wife has lasted. First, he learned some things the last time around. He don’t let the demon all the way out with wife number two. But more important, that woman likes being broke down. She don’t show it, but she does. There’s women who love pain, son, and she’s one. She’s also got the same ambition Forrest does. She likes shopping in Dallas and New York with those trust-fund bitches from New Orleans.”

“I don’t see where you’re going with this, Dad.”

“Yeah, you do. Because you think the same way. All that bullshit sounds exciting to you. You want to fly around with rock stars and gamble in the private rooms in Vegas. But I’m here to tell you, Forrest can’t live that life long without blowing it up. It’s just his nature.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because Elam got Forrest, too.”

Billy’s face felt hot. “What?”

Snake leaned forward, his eyes burning with conviction. “You only missed it because you were born so late. Elam died in ’66—right about the time he would have started on you. But not before he got Forrest, and also his big brother, Frank Junior.”

Billy still couldn’t quite accept this. “Has Forrest ever talked to you about it?”

Snake shook his head with regret. “No. I tried to talk to him a couple of times, but he wouldn’t have it. But I know. I’ve seen it in him, man . . . that same cold fire that was in Frank.”

“Then you don’t know for sure.”

“Yes, I do. Listen close now. I’m only gonna tell this once. Forrest’s big brother—Frank Junior—enlisted in the Corps in ’64, and he went to Vietnam in ’65. I can’t tell you how proud Frank was of that boy. Junior was the reincarnation of his daddy, a born soldier. All the news we got from over there was good. The race war had heated up pretty good over here by ’64, so we were pretty busy with the Double Eagles. Old Elam came and went like he always did. He was in his sixties, but he was still a rounder and still getting in trouble—sometimes with the law. Brody got him out of the pokey a few times, as a favor to Frank. Kept him out of prison.” Snake paused, reflecting silently, then went on.