Page 2 of Minus

“This is badnews, man.”

“Well, hello to you, too,” I said as I shoved my tattered duffel bag into the back of Clutch’s ’71 Barracuda.

“Hey, watch her interior, or I’ll leave your ass on the curb,” he said.

“Lucille is still the only gal for you, I see.”

“You really gonna give me shit right from the jump?”

“No, really,” I said. “It’s inspiring to see a couple as committed as you two still making it work after all these years.”

Clutch flipped me the bird. “Fuck you, Minus. What are you driving these days, a tractor? By the way, if you’ve got any of that cow shit tucked in your bottom lip, you’d better spit it the fuck out before you get in.”

“Why? You hopin’ to kiss me later?” I asked as I slid into the perfectly conditioned leather seat.

“See? You’re even starting to sound like one of them good ol’ boys,” Clutch said. “You’ve changed since you left, man.”

“Yeah, well I’m still smarter, taller, and better looking than you.”

“You checkin’ me out, Minus? You make some other big changes while you were gone, I should know about?”

I smirked. “Sorry, buddy I’ve told you before. You’re not my type.”

“Hey, man, how am I supposed to know what you’re into these days? Just look at you! You’re wearing fucking cowboy boots. For all I know, you’re carrying pearl handled six shooters under your jacket,” he said, pulling away from the curb and into the flow of airport traffic.

“From what I’ve heard, all of Portland is in beards and cowboy boots these days,” I replied.

“Yeah, a lot has changed since you’ve been gone. Then again…,” he paused, “… a lot of shit isexactlythe same,” he said, throwing me a sideways glance.

I said nothing, but we both knew very well what he meant. When I left town, it wasn’t under the best circumstances, to say the least, and I had no reason to believe a ticker-tape parade awaited me upon my arrival.

“Don’t get me wrong, brother, it’s great to see you back home—”

“This isn’t home,” I interrupted.

“What? Savannah is?” Clutch asked.

I paused and admitted, “I can’t say that either.”

“Which leads me back to my original point,” he replied. “It can only be bad news that the not-so-prodigal son is back in town.”

“Please,” I said, waving my hands. “This warm welcomeis all just too much. You’re gonna embarrass me.”

“Don’t get cute with me, motherfucker, you know exactly what I’m saying,” he replied.

“Oh, believe me, I know all too well. Back in Savannah I’m the Yankee stranger and here I’m the long-lost redneck. I’m a man without a fuckin’ country, but here I am nonetheless.”

“Yeah, butwhyare you here?” Clutch asked.

“Because Cutter told me to be here.”

“See? Bad fuckin’ news,” Clutch exclaimed.

“How is that bad news?”

“Since when is itnotbad news when the Prez sends for you?”

I laughed. “Sendsfor you. What are we, wiseguys? He called me and told me to be on the next plane to Portland, so here I am. To be honest, I thought you’d know what’s going on.” I paused dramatically, before sweetening my tone. “What with you being the new Sergeant—”

---