“That’s all I ask.” Sturm finished the rest of the glass and thumped it on the table. “Miss Glouck, this evening has been quite satisfactory. Well done. Give my compliments to the chef. Unfortunately, it is time for me to remove myself. I have a very full day tomorrow, as do we all.” He gave Frank a meaningful look.

“Yeah.” Frank emptied his glass, set it gently on the table.

Alice fought to rise quickly in her tight dress, as if she was afraid Sturm or Frank might stand first. “Well, thank you gentlemen for gracing us with your presence. It was lovely.”

Sturm stood and nodded, “Of course.”

“So…we will be waiting to hear from you,” Alice said.

Sturm patted his pockets to reassure himself that the contract and his wallet were still there. “Soon as we get the tents set up, I’ll let you know.”

Frank stood as well, eyeing the kitchen door, but Annie didn’t appear. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” He meant it.

Alice gave him a smile, a genuine one this time, unselfconscious, one that pulled her chin back in tight to her throat and exposed her crooked bottom teeth. It made Frank feel even warmer, fueling the whiskey fire. He felt almost safe. Alice stared right at him. “You come back anytime you want. You got a place at this table anytime, understand? You helped Petunia.”

“That’s his job,” Sturm said. “He fixes animals that are broken.” One of the brothers brought his hat. “Thank you again for a lovely meal.” Settling the black Stetson on his white, bald head, he said, “Let’s go.”

Frank nodded, almost bowed, at Alice. “Thanks. Tell Annie I said goodnight,” he said and followed Sturm out the front door. They walked through the deep shadow of the satellite dish eclipsing the streetlight. Sturm paused long enough to light a cigar. “That haircut. That’s a whole lot better. Cleaner.” Sturm said, popping his cheeks to draw air through the cigar. “Bet it feels better in this goddamn heat.”

“How’s the wound?”

“Frank!” It was Annie, silhouetted in the front door. Then, more calm, more composed, as she slowly came down the steps. “Running off without saying goodbye?”

Sturm grinned at Frank under the cigar smoke.

“Hold on, okay?” Annie said. “Just hold on. Don’t go running off. Got someone here who wants to say hello.” She went around the side of the house, and a few moments later, Petunia came bounding out, claws digging into the bare dirt, tail wagging furiously. She slammed into Frank and nearly knocked him down. Her tongue was all over his hands and she bounced like a kangaroo, trying to reach his face. Frank grabbed her wide head and bent over, crinkling his eyes shut and curling his lips inward, allowing the dog’s wet leathery tongue to lick his cheeks, nose, and forehead.

Annie followed Petunia at a leisurely pace. “I think she’s got the hots for you, you know.”

“She’s just a good dog, aren’t you?” Frank said. “Yes. That’s right. A goddamn good dog. Yes.” Petunia seemed to agree, wiggling even harder.

“You in a hurry?” Annie asked.

“No. Suppose not,” Frank said, scratching behind Petunia’s ears.

“Then let’s take Petunia for a swim.”

Frank caught himself looking at Sturm for permission. Sturm just grinned back, puffing furiously on his cigar. Frank stood, and patted Petunia’s skull. “Where?”

“Up at the reservoir. That okay with you, Mr. Sturm?” She’d caught Frank’s look, and this seemed to be more to fuel Frank’s embarrassment than Sturm’s okay.

Sturm waved his cigar, smoke streaming in the orange light from the streetlight. “You kids go have fun.” He walked back over and shook Frank’s hand. “Don’t worry. Go have fun. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Frank saw the hint of a wink, and felt something flat and stiff in his palm, left from the handshake. He casually tilted his hand and saw a twenty-dollar bill, crisply folded in thirds, tucked into his palm. Sturm walked back to his pickup. “Tomorrow.” He awkwardly stepped up into his pickup, like handicapped child clambering into a playground spaceship, and roared off.

* * * * *

Frank started the car and turned the air conditioning on while Annie folded the front seat down whistled for Petunia to get in the back seat. Frank thought of the quiet gentlemen’s reactions to a dog in the back seat and smiled. And not just any dog, either; Petunia smelled like she’d swam across a few of the sewage treatment plant ponds to get home. Hell, if he could, he’d get Petunia to take a dump on the front seat before he got rid of the car.

Annie rode in the front seat and pointed directions while talking nonstop about her brothers. “Stupid goddamn fuckheads. They can’t stop jerking off for fifteen minutes to settle on anything but sex—and if they can’t get that—which of course they fucking aren’t—then it gets to anger right fucking quick.” She killed the AC and rolled down her window.

Frank hit a highway going up into the hills and stepped on the gas.

Annie lit a cigarette like she was shooting a gun into the wind. Petunia curled up in the back seat and went to sleep. “When they get into it, fighting, they’re like goddamn dogs, all that frustration where they don’t know whether to fight or fuck, so you just gotta treat ’em like dogs. Hose ’em off with cold water. Most of the time, that works. Most of the time.” Annie inhaled the cigarette in six savage bites and lit another with the filter of the first one. “Turn here.”

Annie slowed down, relaxing into the seat, taking it easier on the cigarette. “I’m sorry. Tonight was important, and those fucking morons fucking fucked it up,” she said and put a hand on Frank’s thigh. But the touch was brief, and then her hand was on to fiddling with the radio. “Fucking radio around here sucks. It sucks long and hard.” With her particular emphasis on those last words, Frank couldn’t help but wonder if she meant something else. Fed up with the selection, Annie switched the radio off. “Where you from?”

“All over.”

“That much I guessed. Where were you born?”

“East Texas.”

“Where’s your family now?”

“All over.”

“You visit with ’em much?”

Frank followed Annie’s finger and turned into an empty parking lot. There was a half moon, just enough to reflect off the fifty-acre reservoir. He shrugged as he pulled into a spot and stopped. “Didn’t see the point in driving all over to visit a bunch of cemeteries.” He stopped the car, facing the lake, under a billion stars.

“Your mom?” Annie finished her cigarette, threw it out the window, but made no move to get out.

Frank gave a sad smile. “Cancer.”

“Dad?”

“Don’t know.”

“My daddy’s in jail. He’s not a good man. I hope he never gets out.”

“How’d he get there?” Frank was hoping she’d put her hand back on his thigh.

Annie gave her own sad smile. “He broke into seventeen campers and trailers across the southwest, killing the husbands and any children, then raping and killing the wife. You probably heard about it.”

“Jesus.” Frank was sorry he’d asked.

“No, I’m fucking with you. He’s in a jail, sure, but hell, he’s just a dumb-ass. He went after armored cars—he’d stake out an ATM and follow the truck back. He nailed two trucks, cops nailed him on the third. Thought he had to be a tough guy and use a loaded gun. So he oughta be up for parole in twenty years or so. I take a bus and see him once in a while.”

Frank turned off the engine and they sat in silence for a moment. “My daddy was a preacher. Can’t exactly say he was a man of god. He believed in…well, he believed in the devil, one. That’s for damn sure. And two, he believed in serpents. He was one of them snake handlers, always saying the word of god was protecting him from bites. Didn’t matter that he got bit twice in the face. He said that was ’cause of me. And mom, but mostly me. His fault for spawning me. God was punishing him.”

Annie twisted around to look at Petunia and put her hand back on Frank’s thigh. “You think she wants to go swimming?”