American Spirit: A Novel by Kennedy Dan

Author:Kennedy, Dan [Kennedy, Dan]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Little A / New Harvest
Published: 2013-05-28T04:00:00+00:00

20

Two Counties, Separated by a Common Gene

WHEN MATTHEW TURNS OFF the steep, narrow dirt road, the cabin owner is standing on the porch, saying good-bye to the cleaning lady. Matthew pulls into the gravel driveway, gives the car a bit too much push, and the tires make a stony racket tearing up the grade and scratching a wake of gravel and dust to the flat landing patch at the top. Seeing that the cleaning lady’s good-bye is under way, seeing no need to rush a hello and handshake, he is now in the driveway, on his knees. The midsection twisted, the head askew, the shoulder anchored down and trying to get the most reach out of the arm, now crammed up under the driver’s seat. The way this sort of thing usually takes place is that there are checks exchanged weeks in advance—that’s what the vacation rental Web site prefers, but plans were made in haste, the mission was launched last night, late. And so it was agreed that payment could happen on arrival, there was probably the presumption that this would also mean a check changing hands, but that isn’t the way things are rolling these days, is it?

There’s not much in the way of a balance in the checking account and there’s simply no way for a man to appear employed when toting all the tight bundles and bindles of jacked and stowed cash. And if the coffee-mug business ever blows up enough to pay real and delinquent bills, there will be the matter of figuring how to choke the tight steel, prudish slit of an ATM with a mouthful of mug cash, and then hoping that the green makes it past human hands and posts to the account is plain unnerving. But for now it’s not a problem; for now the bills don’t get paid and the bank is in the car; the whole system is very self-contained. If the crafty hobby ever turns into bestselling wares, the obvious solution will be to head into Manhattan for deposits every so often; into the city where tellers probably see this kind of binge cash banking routinely from serial blood hawkers, low-stakes deviant pornographers, and misdemeanor tramps. It will be a hassle, putting the grift on the books, but it will be better than these little rolls and wads jackknifing the adjustment mechanisms under the seat like this, caught up in everything.

If the arm can just fish this wayward roll from behind a jam of empties and a dirty magazine, some deli napkins and a wrapper from a Reese’s, an empty water bottle with a tiny nicotine-stained swamp of butts settled into it, then, well, won’t the cabin owner be happy to have solid payment in cash in these times of recession and instability? The mountains up here are so quiet they scream, the only sound at the moment is Matthew grunting, determined to reach up under the seat to get the roll of cash he needs. He yanks

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