Page 74 of Lone Star

“Like the victims,” Candy said.

Benny’s gaze shifted to his face, still unseeing, too wide, too dark. “Yeah. Just like that.”

Colin was at the bar, and he stepped forward now, without prompt, bottle of Jack in his hand, and refilled Benny’s glass.

“Thank you,” he said, with real gratitude, hand shaking so badly he spilled a few droplets on the table when he took his next sip.

“What then?” Candy said, gentler, prompting now.I’m your friend, see? You can tell me; I’ll protect you. Times like these he thought he might have been a detective in another life.

Benny drank down the rest of the whiskey in a few long swallows. “This guy stepped up where I could see him,” he said on the hot-throated exhale afterward. “And he was wearing some kinda robe. It had this hood. And a big old silver cross around his neck. Fucker looked like a priest or something.”

Holy Father, Eden had said. The boys sitting here had said.

“All I could see were his hands, like this.” He crossed his own over his chest. “And his voice was all deep and weird. He said, ‘Hello, my son.’

“I said, ‘I ain’t your fucking son.’ And somebody else hit me. Smacked the hell out of me, here.” He touched his face, and what Candy had thought might be smudges of dirt or makeup from one of the strippers did in fact, in the daylight, look like a faded bruise. “When I could open my eyes, he was still there, and he said it again. Hello, my son. And so I said, ‘What am I supposed to call you?’ And he said, ‘I’m the Holy Father.’ Like that. Like itmeantsomething, you know?”

“I know.”

“That’s what he did with us,” Jesse spoke up for the first time. His lip trembled, and he looked nauseated. “We were on a table, and he came out with that Holy Father shit. And then–” His throat clicked when he swallowed.

“Did someone come into the store and ask you two if you were interested in dealing?” Candy asked.

“Yeah, but with hash,” Eric said. “Gave us the sample, we said we dealt for Hakes” – one of the club dealers – “and that we weren’t interested.”

“What’d he look like?” Candy asked.

“Young,” Eric said, “not much older than us. Late twenties, maybe.”

“Nice clothes,” Jesse said. “Not flashy, but you could tell they were expensive. Looked Latino. Little bit of an accent.”

“Had a mole right here.” Benny touched the skin just below the outer corner of his eye. “Good-looking guy. The kind the girls in all the clubs throw themselves at.”

Jesse and Eric nodded.

“You’d all remember him if you saw him again?”

“Yes,” they all said.

Candy turned back to Benny. “What happened next?”

He tapped his glass with a hopeful expression, and Colin gave him another refill. “The Father guy, he had this whole speech. I don’t remember it all, ‘cause I was still kinda loopy from whatever they gave me. But he was saying that the world was full of sinners, and that God forgave us for our sins – just like he’d forgive me of mine. I told him I had a lot of sin, but he said he only cared about one: conso…conset…?”

“Consorting,” Fox said.

“Yeah, that was it.”

“Consorting with the Lean Dogs,” Fox said. “Right?”

“Yeah. That was it. And I told him I wasn’t no friend of the Dogs. But he said…he said he had to make sure.”

He was silent a moment, breathing in and out through his mouth. Took another swallow; the whiskey didn’t seem to be easing his shaking at all. “He reached into one of his giant priest sleeves and pulled out a syringe, and I think, great, he’s gonna sedate me again, or give me heroin, or who fucking knows.”

“It wasn’t heroin,” Jesse said.

“Nah,” Benny agreed. “It was kinda warm at first, and I was all relaxed, and it wasn’t so bad, but then…then I couldn’t move.”

“It was a paralytic?” Fox asked.

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