The Tiger Rising

Chapter 18

Rob was sweeping the cement walkway in front of the Kentucky Star rooms when Beauchamp pulled up in his red jeep and honked the horn.

“Hey there,” he hollered. Beauchamp was a large man with orange hair and an orange beard and a permanent toothpick in the side of his mouth. The toothpick waggled as he talked, as if it was trying to make a point of its own. “We got you on the payroll now, too?” Beauchamp shouted.

“No, sir,” said Rob.

“All right,” hooted Beauchamp. He hopped out of the jeep. “Got you working for free. That’s what I like to hear.”

“Yes, sir,” said Rob.

“Ain’t you supposed to be in school? Or you done graduated already?” The gold chains buried deep in Beauchamp’s orange chest-hair winked at Rob.

“I’m sick,” said Rob.

“Sick and tired of school, right?” He slapped Rob on the back. “Don’t got a mama putting down the rules for you, do you? Get to make your own rules. Not me,” said Beauchamp. He jerked his head in the direction of the motel office, where his mother, Ida Belle, worked the front desk.

He winked at Rob and then looked to the left, then right. “Look here,” he said in a quieter voice. “I’ve got me a number of deals going on right now, a few more than I can properly handle. I wonder if a smart boy like yourself wouldn’t be looking for a way to pick up some extra spending money.”

He didn’t wait for Rob to answer.

“Let me tell you what I got cooking. You like animals?”

Rob nodded.

“Course you do,” said Beauchamp, nodding with him. “What boy don’t? You like wild animals?”

Rob’s heart skipped. He suddenly knew where Beauchamp was headed.

“I got me a wild animal,” said Beauchamp. “I got me a wild animal like you would not believe. Right here on my own property. And I got some plans for him. Big plans. But in the meantime, he needs some taking care of, some daily maintenance. You following me, son?”

“Yes, sir,” said Rob.

“All right,” said Beauchamp. He slapped Rob on the shoulder again. “Why don’t you climb on into this jeep and let me take you for a ride, show you what I’m talking about.”

“I’m supposed to be sweeping,” said Rob. He held up the broom.

“Says who?” said Beauchamp, suddenly angry. “Your daddy? He ain’t the boss. I’m the boss. And if I say ‘Let’s go,’ you say ‘All right.’”

“All right,” said Rob. He looked over his shoulder, wishing fervently that Willie May or his father would appear to save him from Beauchamp, knowing at the same time that he could not be saved, that he was on his own.

“Good,” said Beauchamp. “Climb on up.”

Rob climbed into the passenger seat. There was a big brown grocery bag at his feet.

“Go on and put that in the back,” said Beauchamp as he swung into the driver’s seat.

The bag was heavy and it stunk. Rob carefully put it on the floor in the back and then noticed his hands. There was blood on his fingers.

“That’s just from the meat,” said Beauchamp. “It won’t hurt you none.” He cranked the engine. It roared to life, and they went tearing around behind the Kentucky Star and into the woods. Beauchamp drove like he was crazy. He gunned for trees and then swerved away from them at the last minute, whooping and hollering the whole time.

“You ain’t going to believe what I got to show you,” Beauchamp hollered at him.

“No, sir,” said Rob weakly.

“What?” Beauchamp shouted.

“No, sir,” Rob shouted back. “I ain’t going to believe it.”

But he did believe it. He believed it with all his heart.