by Rob Pierce
I hadn’t been to Sparks in months, but it was exactly how I remembered it. Grunt workers straight off eight- or ten-hour shifts sitting near the door, like they couldn’t make it any farther, putting down everything they could as fast as they could and if a fight came their way they wouldn’t mind it. I’d never seen a fight in Sparks, though. Unless you wanted one there was no reason to talk to those guys, and they only talked to each other.
I was looking down the bar at the grunts, and I turned back to look at Rico and he must have been looking down there too. We both grinned. If we wanted we could clear that end of the room in a couple of seconds. So dumb, thinking about shit we didn’t even want to do. We both laughed, and I waved to the surly surfer for another round.
We drank, we watched the crowd clamber in, and we waited. Guys took every seat at the bar, and guys took some of the tables, and a few couples took tables too, but there weren’t any women alone. I was doing fine, except as I got drunker I saw Rico get drunker beside me, and he wasn’t so fine about staying alone.
“You know this place can be this way,” I said.
Rico nodded. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rico broke up a couple if he saw a woman he wanted, but the couples here were too young, kids who were into each other and wouldn’t be into what Rico offered and he knew it. This room was the wrong kind of ugly, the empty kind. No one here offered anything, they were blank and they came to take and they could only share with other blanks. Rico had a lot of shit in him, and the girls here had none. They were old enough to drink, but not old enough to drink with us.
He looked out at the room full of voids and shook his head. “Maybe I should be in a busy club.”
“Not for me. Not now. I’ll be home soon.”
Rico looked at me. “Easy for you to say.”
I grinned. “Easy tonight. Maybe not so easy tomorrow.”
“Next time, I pick a place filled with women. We make something happen.”
“Sure, Rico.”
He looked at me like I’d have said that to anything he said. Maybe he was right. “Fuck you, Dust. You’re married or you’re not, you don’t even know. Give me that little bartender of yours, I’ll set her straight seven days a week.”
I nodded. “Yeah, for a week. You’ll want someone new in eight days.”
Rico laughed loud. “Damn right.” I saw his arm coming and set my drink down fast right before he swatted my back. “Let’s hit a club.”
“Maybe next week.”
“What’s wrong with the weekend?”
I made sure my voice was low. “I’m planning a job.”
Rico could get crazy about women, but he understood about work. He nodded, took a drink. I took one too. Sparks was a shithole of a bar. I understood why Rico liked it.
***
We were both hungover when we met in the morning but that was alright. A man who can’t work with a hangover shouldn’t have a job.
“I need a couple weeks off. I don’t know how long exactly.”
Rico looked at me like his eyes could slit my throat. “You know it’s almost the Super Bowl.”
“I’m not stupid. I need to clear this with Tenny now. After the Super Bowl, I need off the payroll. I might not come back on.”
Rico nodded. “There’s a little time after the Super Bowl when collecting’s still heavy. Guys who don’t make stupid bets til the end of the year.”
Super Bowl collections. I did those one year when I was younger. If it might happen on Sunday, you can bet on it. You can bet on the length of the Star Spangled Banner, on how long the singer holds the last note, the color of the Gatorade they pour on the winning coach. And if Vegas had a line on it, so did Tenny. So long as the odds were set right, the bookie made a profit. And Tenny took a piece of that.
“I’m not some dumbfuck who leaves Tenny when he needs me. But I got a job. I’ll pull it in February so we’re all good. Then I gotta take off awhile, I don’t know how long.”
Rico nodded again. “I’ll say it that way.”
My list of collections for the day was already in my pocket. I waited until Rico finished his coffee. I finished mine and stood. “Have a good weekend.”
Rico shook his head at me. “I’m gonna get some without you.”
“You fucking better. They’ll never go to you once they see me.”
Rico laughed and stood and slapped me on the shoulder. “Go get some money.”
“That’s what I do,” I said and walked away.
***
Work was a few weeks of obligation before I could get to what mattered to me: the bank job.
First I had to take care of what mattered to Tenny. Tenny wanted his money and that was important, and some of the men who had it didn’t understand that. I was there to help them, however hard I had to hit them to do it. Then they’d pay, and I wouldn’t have to break their legs, and it would be much easier for them to make the next payment.
My next collection was a fat white guy named Stanton, a regular. Stanton always owed money. He worked construction, and there weren’t a lot of jobs in winter, so he was always home when I looked for him. I reached his building, pressed the bell. I told him who I was and he buzzed me up.
“Stanton, man,” I said when he let me in. As soon as I was inside he walked back to his kitchen table, where he had an open can of Bud Lite. Stanton was six two, had to weigh two fifty. He wore a wifebeater with a coffee stain on the belly and loose jeans, belt undone, no socks or shoes. “You owe five large. Seems like you always owe five large.”
Stanton sat down behind the table, took a slurp of beer. “That’s gotta be wrong. You know I always pay you. Numbers gotta drop.”
I stood over the table, leaned on it, shook my head. “You only been payin interest. You still owe five large. The number has to come down.”
“Today I can pay a hundred. Maybe next time I pay two.”
I grabbed Stanton’s beer, squeezed the can. Some beer gurgled out the top. I tossed the can across the room. It leaked all the way and bounced off the counter next to the sink, dropped to the floor still spilling. “Next time pay five. Today pay two.”
Stanton narrowed his eyes, raised up in his chair. “Today I ain’t got two.”
I took a step back, grabbed a wooden chair from under the table and swung. One leg caught Stanton across his cheek. He toppled onto the linoleum, looked up at me as I stepped around the table, still holding the chair.
“It wasn’t a question.”
Stanton sat up on his knees and threw a punch. I dropped the chair and he hit it. The chair bounced to one side and Stanton sat off-balance. I kicked him in the chin and he fell halfway back but his palms hit the floor soft and he propped himself up. I didn’t want to wrestle, he was too big. I stepped toward him, turned sideways, and slammed my elbow down onto the bridge of his nose.
Stanton dropped on his back and I stepped away. He gasped for breath, covered his face, and lay on the floor making noises. I stood back and watched. I was here to collect two hundred dollars. Everything I’d done so far was stupid, and I wanted to do more. “Empty your pockets,” I said. “Roll away. There better be two hundred in there.”
Stanton’s hands stayed over his face, his body rolling a little to one side then to the other.
I shouldn’t have told him to put his hands in his pockets. He could have weapons down there. But I wasn’t going to get on the floor with him. He might try to fight me, and I didn’t know what I’d do. “This time I want your wallet. Next time I’ll want more.”
Stanton rolled onto one side, reached into a back pocket and dropped his wallet on the floor.
“Now roll, fat boy.”
I nudged his hip with my shoe and he went away from me. One hand stayed over his face, so he moved slow, but he made it to the end of the room. I bent down, picked up the wallet and backed up to the door. I grabbed all the bills and dropped the wallet and stepped into the hall, shoved the money into my front pocket and walked away. It was a good sized sta
ck of bills but I’d count it later. I’d earned whatever extra money I’d collected. That wasn’t how it worked, though. Tenny had already earned that money, and whatever was there would be deducted from Stanton’s debt.
I made it to the sidewalk, sweating under my jacket and shirt. It was cold out. I pressed my palms to my face, hard, dropped my hands and shook my head. My head didn’t clear and I probably looked crazy. If it was the job I didn’t have to take it much longer, but I had to take it as long as I’d said I would. That was probably what was driving me crazy, that promise of freedom.
I shoved both hands as deep as they could go into my side jacket pockets and walked as fast as I could to where I’d parked, a block away. The walk wasn’t easy, I had to tell myself how to put one foot in front of the other, like I might forget and fall. Each step was forced but I got to the car fast and slipped into the driver’s seat. I locked the doors and yanked Stanton’s money from my pocket. I’d count it here, calm down and finish my collections. Back to my casual self, the guy who showed up and collected what it said on the paper, none of that amping up the payments shit. Like I needed Tenny to like me more. Fuck, I was trying to get out of this life.
I pulled the folded stack of bills from my pocket. There was a twenty on top. The next bill was a single. I started counting. Except for that twenty, they were all singles. A thick wad of money, fifty bucks. Fucking Stanton. Fucking me and my fucking brain. If I hadn’t already kicked his ass, I’d go up there and kick it now. Shit. He’d shorted me, but at least I’d beat the shit out of him. Next week he’d pay more. Fuck, this was not how I wanted to go out with this. Just give me what you owe and you’ll never see me again.
***
The day finally ended. I made it home, drenched in sweat. It was February. I took a beer into the shower, ran the water hot and kept it away from the bottle. This time of year my hair went down my neck to my shoulders. I let the water run through it a long time.
I got out of the shower when my beer was finished, before the water was cold. I toweled myself dry, wrapped the towel around my waist and walked down the hall to the kitchen, where I swapped my empty beer for a full one. I walked back to the bedroom, put on a pair of jeans ripped at both knees, didn’t bother with a shirt, walked back to the living room and plunked some early ZZ Top into the stereo. Guitars screamed and vocals growled, about whores and booze and jailbait. I drank to it all.
Shirtless and buzzed. It was six o’clock and I hadn’t seen Jeremy yet. I got up and walked down the hall, knocked on Jeremy’s door.
“Yeah?”
“How long you been home?” I opened the door a crack. He lay on his bed, going through cards.
“A while.”
I nodded, shut his door, backed away. He didn’t look like he needed me, and I didn’t need to be needed. Alone with music and a beer would be plenty. I returned to the living room, found another CD, something quieter. I grabbed another beer, settled on the couch again. I didn’t need any lights. Blues played.
Theresa walked in. “You look like shit.”
I looked at her. “I don’t feel much better.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want to come home and have you on the couch like that. Work was bad enough.”
I stood, chugging my beer. I set it down empty on the arm of the couch. “I’ll put on a shirt. Maybe then I’ll be pretty enough for you.”
My back was to her but she talked anyway.
“You’ll still look like shit. Drunk at seven o’clock. What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
I walked down the hall, into the bedroom, left the door open behind me in case she wanted to follow but I knew she wouldn’t. I was going to put on a t-shirt and sit back on the couch but she was so pissed off… I opened the closet, found a long-sleeved shirt and managed to get it buttoned, walked back to the couch where I’d left my leather jacket and put that on too. “You don’t have to worry what’s wrong with me.”
I opened the door and walked out. Left it open too, in case she had something to say, but I was halfway to the elevator and I heard the door shut. I didn’t know if we were done, but we were definitely done for the night.
***
I went to The Wheel. Olive was working. She didn’t look happy to see me, but when I asked for a scotch and a beer she set me up.
It was cold and there was nothing revealing about what she wore but I took a drink and I smiled at her with her back turned. She wore a loose black shirt and pants that covered everything, but I knew what everything was and I didn’t give a fuck how she hid it.
I finished my drinks and waved to her. She didn’t seem to see me.
“Hey, Olive!”
She was looking down my end of the bar, but she didn’t nod or say anything. I could get her attention. I didn’t know if I could get another drink.
The guy in a suit next to me looked over. “Her name’s Olivia, not Olive.”
I smiled. “You wanna call her for me?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Don’t tell her it’s for me. Order a draft Lagunitas.”
“I’m not buyin you a drink, buddy.”
I pulled out my wallet, handed the guy a ten. “Do it, alright?”
“Hey, Olivia!” He waved and she came down. “A Lagunitas this time.”
“Really?” She looked at him, glanced at me.
“Yeah.”
She looked at his half-full glass, shrugged and walked away. A minute later she set the beer in front of him.
I took it. “Olive, talk to me.”
“Why would I talk to an asshole like you?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t know then, I don’t know now. I’m here til you close.” I took a drink. She looked at me a second and turned away.
I looked at the guy in the suit. “Your next one’s on me.”
He was watching Olive walk away. She didn’t show much in that outfit but that girl could walk. He waited until she was at the far end of the bar and turned. “Thanks, man.”
I smiled at the idiot. He could look at her, but that’s all he could do. She’d been mine once and she figured to be mine again. Either that or she hated me for disappearing for a couple weeks. Which would mean she was gonna hate me, and tonight I was wasting my time. So long as I got a few drinks and I could look at her, I wouldn’t call it a loss.
I finished my beer as the suit finished his, and I waved. Olive came down our way. “One more of each,” I pointed at my neighbor’s glass.
Olive nodded, didn’t look totally pissed, came back with two beers.
“Start me a tab, Olive. I’ll be a while.”
Policy was to ask for a credit card if you ran a tab, but Olive hadn’t asked for mine in months. I wondered if she would tonight but she nodded. I took a drink and she took a step away.
“And a scotch, Olive.”
She stopped, turned, nodded again. In a minute I had my scotch.
“So where you been?” she asked.
“I got my own work, and I took a job with Rico. Time ain’t my own.”
“I bet you drink at night. Not here, though.”
“I made it here tonight.”
The suit next to me was getting an earful. I looked at him hard and he turned away. It didn’t matter, it was just something I had to do. My eyes returned to Olive. I waited for her answer.
“And you’re buying me a drink after work?”
“If that’s what you want.”
There was a holler from the far end of the bar. Olive turned her head and walked down that way. I sat and drank and waited. I didn’t need much, just what I had in front of me and what I was about to have when I left here. I looked around the room and I hated everyone I didn’t want, which was everyone but Olive, and I stared at those walls like I could make them burn down, at people like I could get rid of them too.
“You okay?” the guy in the suit asked.
I didn’t know what I looked like, how I felt. “Get the fuck away from me.”
He opened hi
s mouth but he looked at my face and didn’t say a word. He grabbed his glass and moved to the far end of the bar.
I wanted the room empty and didn’t know how to make it that way. There were a few empty seats at the bar now. It felt better, like there was new air. I took some of it in; I was still on a bar stool but I slumped a little where I sat and it felt like I sprawled.
A couple came in. He sat to my right, one stool between us. I should have known my relaxation wouldn’t last. I glared at him.
He was big, stocky, short-haired. He looked at me. “You got a problem?”
“Yeah.”
He had a drink in front of him, a date beside him. She wasn’t so big and stocky, kind of pretty actually, but that didn’t matter. “What’s the problem?”
I held my beer in one hand, my scotch in the other. I drained the scotch, set the glass down hard on the bar, tapped the top so Olive would know. “Go.”
“You fucking nuts? We just got here.”
He didn’t understand the space my hate needed. Maybe he didn’t understand hate. I had to explain it to him.
“I’m not some fucking drunk,” I said. “Well, maybe I am, but that’s not all I am.” I lifted my beer with my left hand and drank, but my eyes dropped and my free hand clamped down on one of his wrists, squeezed and twisted. I was off my stool and my beer was on the bar and I was behind him. I brought his arm back with me, close to breaking. He still wanted to fight, but he had no leverage.
“Okay,” he gasped.
I pulled him back and let him go. He toppled with his stool and his woman stood.
“Dust!” Olive shouted.
I glanced at the woman, looked down at the man. “I need space,” I said.
The woman stepped back, the man sat up on the floor.
I kept my eyes on him. “Stay where you are.”
Olive stood closer now. “Knock it off! Both of you!”
I looked at Olive. “You gonna call the cops?”
“I’ll cut you off, Dust. And I don’t only mean at the bar.”
I laughed, stepped backward, grinned at the man on the floor. “I’ll be at Big Joan’s.” I backed my way to the door. “Anyone wants to meet me there.”