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By the time Lyle Stone moved in, I was well ensconced in my abode. T.S., my friend from North Carolina, had a problem with Russell, his father. Rondele and Fatima, the two lesbians T.S. rented a room from, had decided they had put up with Russell Sharpe long enough.
They liked Russell fine when he was sober. They had met him at the train station when he arrived, brought him home and let him stay on the couch for a couple of weeks, no problem. He painted their house. He was sober at first, then he wasn’t. Then they came home and found him sprawled out drunk on the living room floor beside an empty bottle of cooking sherry and they put their feet down.
“What am I going to do with Hoss?” T.S. turned to me for help.
“I guess bring him on by.” A sudden, short deliberation.
Russell was actually there before Lyle. He was sleeping on the floor for some reason, and the house was still dark from too few light bulbs, or no light bulbs, and, coming in late, Lyle tripped over Russell in the dark and fumbled a twelve pack of beer.
“What the hell’s going on?” Lyle blustered.
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Best line from Chapter 3: “In the dead silence of the house, the sound of that first pop top opening was like a rooster crowing.”
ok, so i just realized they’re talking about painting, as in a career, rather than Van Gogh.
There’s definitely a Suttree vibe to this chapter as more of the cast of characters are introduced. At this point there appears to be at least 3 subplots (which i won’t give away) emerging.