Rewrite--Chapter 11
(Billy and the Farrs Feel Each Other Out; Paul Remembers; Bradford Makes Weekend Plans)
Welcome, folks! I hope you enjoy! Here are the links to other chapters:
Chapter 1—Part One: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/michael-hatchers-unpublished-novel7
Chapter 1—Part Two: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-1b
Chapter 2: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-2
Chapter 3: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-3
Chapter 4: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-4
Chapter 5: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-five
Chapter 6: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-6
Chapter 7: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-7
Chapter 8: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-8
Chapter 9: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-9
Chapter 10: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-10
11.
Billy awoke with a start and peeked around the room through rheumy eyes. He tried to focus his vision, but his eyes hurt him so badly he couldn’t. It was as if a horde of bees had made their hive in his sockets.
Once he was able to clear his eyes, he saw the room contained the twin bed where he lay and a weathered chest with clothes stuffed into half-open drawers. Hunkering down underneath two thick patchwork quilts, Billy tried to go back to sleep, but there was too much stuff bouncing around in his brain.
Tommy Wayne, out there somewhere—maybe dead, maybe not. Terry. Jade. Fat guy with Tommy Wayne, hole in his stomach, surely bled out by now.
His mind raced back to last night, and his unburdening of himself to Homer and Elmer about Terry. The men had offered, no, insisted that he take their help. They would start off today right after breakfast.
The very idea filled him with such terror, and, at the same time, a recognition that it was all about to be finished. One way or the other.
Billy knew where Terry was now, or had been, at least.
Can’t count on her being there now. Not after all this.
He felt drops of moisture form underneath his eyelids, so he wiped his eyes clear and walked to the window. He observed a smattering of stars, still present even as the muted light streaked through the sky. The whippoorwills called to each other in the distance. A wolf howled a doleful lament.
At this moment, as always, he felt that his life wasn’t truly his, that he was rudderless, adrift. No meaning, except what others made of it.
He clenched his eyelids shut and cleared his throat, dislodging a thick ball of phlegm.
Thoughts, like those Prince songs his mama used to listen to—sacred and profane at once—popped into his head.
Jade.
The corners of his mouth curled up. He went back to that body, those undulating hips, those full lips. He thought about how those lips could make him feel, and his hand made its way underneath the blankets. Attempting to sate his raging libido, Billy stroked himself with such ferocity that he feared that he would rip the foreskin off his penis.
Wait. He gritted his teeth.
Billy scanned the room frenziedly, spotting a roll of paper towels on the dresser. He tore off two fistfuls, returned to bed, and resumed.
