Taking their money didn’t bother me in the least. When they resisted with guns, they died. It was a simple way of dealing with men who sold junk to ...ids. ‘So you want to go to Detroit?’ ‘Why the hell would I want to go to Detroit?’ ‘Why hell Preach we be having kind of reunion there.’ ‘Jim, there were exactly twenty men in our field unit and half of them are dead. It ain’t going to be much of a reunion.’ ‘Well it ain’t exactly that kind of reunion.’ ‘What kind of reunion is it then.’ ‘Vietnam. " "One," I said. He slapped me again. "Two." And again, just a little harder. "Three." And again. And again. Each one getting just a little harder. The blood flooded where he slapped, making everything hot and throbbing. He moved the blows around, sometimes catching the back of my legs and my sex, sending thrills through my whole body. "Ten," I counted, my voice strained. "Five more. These will be harder." I thought about making him slow down and he waited to see if I would. But the lighter. More

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