The Devil's Dream by Lee Smith

Author:Lee Smith [Smith, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0425239713
Publisher: Berkley Trade
Published: 2011-03-02T05:00:00+00:00

4

Rockabilly: Get Hot or Go Home

I’ve got a way with women,

And an ace or two up my sleeve,

I’m a five-card stud, baby,

I’m all the man you’ll ever need.

1

Blackjack Johnny Raines and the Pig-Brain Theory

Loretta’s Club outside Shreveport, Louisiana, on a Saturday night in late spring, and it’s raining the way it seems to do most of the time in Louisiana, a pee-warm drizzle that don’t do much to cool things off, at least in Blackjack Johnny Raines’s opinion but hell, what does he know? What the fuck does he know, anyway? He’s the entertainment. He grinds out a Camel butt under the heel of his boot and lights another and washes two pills down with a shot of vodka. Vodka don’t have no taste, it’s just like nothing, nothing at all, but you can feel it in your system going all the way down, it’ll keep your blood running good and get your arteries cleaned out. For some years now, Blackjack Johnny has relied heavily on vodka. He likes to buy it in those little pint bottles; he’s got about thirty of them out in the trunk of his car right now, wrapped up in an old army blanket. Those little pint bottles fit real easy in your hand and other places too; in fact, Johnny knew a man one time that always kept one down the inside of his boot, but this does not strike Johnny as a real good idea, what if you got in a fight or something, and it busted up in there, it could cut your foot pretty bad, maybe you couldn’t even get your foot out of your boot. That could get bad. Johnny prefers to keep his bottle right here, in the inside pocket of his western jacket, his trademark black Nudie jacket with silver piping, silver studs; it’s that dark dangerous look the women like, that’s what Johnny’s going for, kind of a cross between Porter Wagoner and an undertaker.

He’s worn all black ever since his big hit, “I’m a Five-Card Stud,” two years ago. Shit. Two years is a lifetime in music. He’s dead, in other words, dead in the water right now, only those girls don’t know it, those three girls over there at that table by the jukebox, big old factory girls out on the town, giving him the eye. They think he’s hot stuff. So do the older women at the booths in the back; they’re here because he’s here, they don’t come out to a place like this every night, you can tell. They think he’s hot too. This young bass player that Vic lined up for him, this Gene. Somebody local, he don’t know no better either, waiting so respectful by Johnny’s elbow, clearing his throat, trying to get up enough courage to say something.

“They told me to tell you it’s about time for the third set, Johnny,” the boy says finally, and Johnny nods real businesslike and hands the pint bottle out toward him, but the boy looks down and shakes his head fast, declining.

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