Nobody's Fool

inquiring. On her way past the sugar dispenser she delicately removed Rub’s hat by making forceps of her thumb and forefinger.
    â€œIf I don’t work, you’ll be mad at me,” Rub said sadly.
    â€œWell, that’s true,” Sully admitted.
    â€œAnd Bootsie’s still mad at me about the car,” Rub told him. “Everybody’s mad at me.”
    â€œSee?” Sully said. “You’re better off working.”
    â€œI just wisht I had money for a donut.”
    â€œWhat happened to your pay from yesterday?”
    â€œBootsie took it.”
    Sully got the waitress’s attention, ordered Rub a donut.
    â€œOne of them big ole cream-filled deals,” Rub explained to her, pointing to the ones he meant. When the girl put one in front of him, he waited for her to go away and then said, “She gave me the smallest one.”
    â€œThey’re all the same size,” the girl said, as if to no one in particular. She was standing by her post at the register. She looked at neither Rub nor Sully.
    â€œAre not,” Rub whispered, staring at the donut.
    â€œEat the fucking thing,” Sully said.
    Rub did as he was told. When he bit the donut, cream filling bulged out the anus-shaped opening at the other end. Sully had to look away. “Carl been by?” he said.
    Rub was intent on the donut and didn’t hear. His first bite made a large opening, leaving wings on either side of the puncture. No matter which wing he bit into now, the cream filling was going to escape.
    â€œI’m going to knock you right off that stool in a minute,” Sully said.
    Rub looked over at him to see if this threat was genuine. Apparently it was. “What?” he said.
    â€œI asked you if Carl was here.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œBefore I came in, Rub.”
    â€œOnly for a minute. He came over and told me I smelled like a pussy finger. I wisht we didn’t have to work for him on Thanksgiving.”
    Sully took out two dollars, enough to cover the coffees, Rub’s donut and the tip their sullen waitress hadn’t earned. “Did he give you any money?”
    â€œHe said come by the office when we’re finished.”
    Than which there was no more typical Carl Roebuck maneuver.
    â€œMeet me at Hattie’s in ten minutes,” he said. “Maybe we can get this job done by midafternoon.”
    â€œHattie’s is closed,” Rub reminded him.
    â€œOutside,” Sully said.
    Rub looked dubious.
    â€œDon’t try to figure this out, Rub,” Sully told him. “Just do it.”
    â€œYou don’t have to get mad,” Rub said. “You get mad as easy as Bootsie.”
    â€œWe keep the same company,” Sully said.
    Sully left. From outside the donut shop he could see Rub poised over the donut, and for some reason Sully stopped, curious to see how Rub would resolve the problem. Instead of biting either wing of the donut, Rub inserted his open mouth into the hole his first bite had created. Naturally, this was a perfect fit. When Rub sucked, the cream bubble forced out through the anal aperture was drawn back into the donut. This was an oddly cheering solution, and Sully wondered briefly if people underestimated Rub. Briefly.
    When there was only one person in the world you really wanted to see, what were the odds you’d run into him outside a closed OTB in North Bath at 7:30 on Thanksgiving morning? Better than you might imagine, it occurred to Sully, because on the way over to Carl Roebuck’s office hespotted Jocko’s silver Marquis parked in the empty lot, Jocko at the wheel, reading the newspaper. When Sully sneaked up and banged on the window about two inches from Jocko’s ear, he jumped about a foot, pleasing Sully, a man for whom sneaking up on people and scaring the shit out of them had always been a profoundly satisfying activity. Jocko too seemed pretty well satisfied when he recognized Sully, who was often his own explanation, grinning in at him. Jocko flipped him off, then used the same middle finger to direct Sully around to the other side of the Marquis. Sully got in gingerly, left the door open and his leg mostly outside. “Howdy, Chester,” Jocko said, studying Sully over his glasses. Jocko was dressed conservatively as always. Light blue shirt, fat tie, sans-a-belt slacks. In his late thirties, his hair was short, graying at the temples, and he was about fifty pounds overweight.