Uncle Dust

by Rob Pierce

  “Shit.” I looked at her. She looked as surprised as I felt. “You got some skill there.”

  “You fucker,” but she smiled a little.

  My cheek stung; maybe she could tell. I still liked her, but she wanted me to fit into what she thought was normal. I could fuck her again, hell I could love her, I just couldn’t stay. I looked down and flipped through the bills in the box. “I got no cash, no card, no car. So if I can use your couch tonight, cool. But I gotta finish this phone call.”

  She shook her head, smile gone. “Fuck you, Dust. Sleep anywhere you want. Anywhere but here.”

  I nodded, I drank. I’d cancel the card and call Rico and get off work tomorrow so I could get my car back. Then I’d have a long walk. Olive better still want me.

  ***

  It was three a.m. when I got out of there, too late for any liquor stores to be open. I drank one last shot and walked out the door.

  It would take an hour to reach Olive’s place. But I’d grabbed the spare pistol I’d stashed at Theresa’s. I wouldn’t lose this time if I got jumped. I got close to Olive’s and knew she’d be pissed or show pity or both. I didn’t want either but it was the best I could get right now. I kept going, made it to her building as dawn approached.

  I buzzed Olive’s apartment, waited a minute, buzzed again. And again. On the fourth buzz she answered. “What?”

  “It’s me. I got mugged.”

  The door made its sound and I pushed it open. The walk left me exhausted and almost sober. I took the elevator instead of the stairs, was on her floor fast, walked slowly to the door and knocked.

  She opened it a crack, took a peek with the chain on and let me in.

  She looked up at my face, reached out and held my shoulders. “What happened?”

  “What’s it look like?”

  “A lump on your forehead. Kinda purple. What the hell’d you get hit with?”

  “It was a gun or I woulda fought.”

  “You okay?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know who it was. I can’t get my shit back.”

  “They get a lotta money?”

  “That doesn’t matter. I got beat. That’s all.” I tried to say it like I was shrugging it off, like it was a little thing. But when I said it was all, I meant it was everything. This whole damn game is king of the hill.

  She shut the door behind me. “Sit on the couch. I’ll getcha a drink.”

  I did what I was told, collapsed into the cushions. Olive handed me a scotch and sat beside me with one of her own. I sipped. Glenlivet. I threw back half the glass, glad to be dating a bartender.

  “So,” she said. “You okay?”

  “They got my driver’s license, my credit card, broke my phone. The card’s canceled, I gotta get a new phone tomorrow. And call the DMV.”

  Olive nodded. “You canceled your credit card between when you got mugged and when you got here.”

  I finished my drink. “I could use another shot.”

  Olive stayed next to me but it felt like she moved farther away. “You had money and personal papers and another phone somewhere.”

  “It’s easy to borrow a phone.”

  “You lived with someone. You went back to her.”

  “Just to get my shit.”

  “And this is who you’ve been leaving all this time.”

  I forced myself up, past Olive into her kitchen and poured myself another drink. “I was never leaving her. I just left her.”

  “For good. For me.”

  I walked back into the living room, nodded as I sat down beside her.

  “For now.” She said that one like an accusation.

  I raised my eyebrows as I tilted back my glass of scotch. If she was possessive, she’d waited until the last second to show it. “A night or two. That’s all I want.”

  “It’s the middle of the night,” she said. “All I want’s sleep.”

  I got up, walked back to the bedroom, heard her footsteps behind me. I took off my clothes and got under the blankets. I might pass out, but if she wanted anything, I was there.

  ***

  The clock said twelve. Olive wasn’t in bed anymore, so I got up too. My head throbbed and I was exhausted. But I needed a phone. I used the bathroom, put on my pants and made my way down the hall. Olive sat on the couch with the TV on low. She got up as I walked past her to the kitchen. She wore tight jeans and a baggy t-shirt.

  “Lemme get your coffee,” she said. “You sit down.” She ran her hand gently down my back and pointed at the couch. She stepped around me, started some water and pulled a cup from a cabinet. I walked slow, but I had her spot on the couch before my cup was poured.

  She passed it to me, sat down beside me with a cup of her own.

  “Thanks.” I took a sip. It was hot, it was good. I drank more.

  She looked me in the eye, looked very serious. I must have looked like hell. “When do we get your phone?”

  “We got time.” I talked like I was as strong as I wanted to be. She looked good serious, looked good in a baggy shirt, looked good on a hungover afternoon. I took a long drink, got halfway through my coffee. “Shit. No we don’t. Drive me to my car.”

  Olive nodded fast, stood. She got it completely. I mean, it wasn’t complicated, but she moved right away. I got up too, had to get dressed. I’d left my car overnight on a downtown street. And last night I forgot, fuck, Theresa had my spare key. I’d pay a locksmith, I wouldn’t see her again. I hoped I hadn’t got towed.

  ***

  Olive drove. I sat beside her. Some pretty good old school guitar played on her stereo.

  “What station is this?”

  Olive smiled at me, a fast glance. “It’s The Kinks, stupid. Radio ain’t this good.”

  I shut up and she kept driving. “Left at the light,” I said, when we’d been on the road a few minutes. “Then straight a couple blocks, but slow. I forget exactly where.”

  She turned and she slowed.

  “Keep an eye out for a black Chrysler 300. It’s nice, not too big, looks kinda English.”

  “It’s gonna look like you think you’re a fucking pimp. I’ll drive slow. You find the car.”

  It was lunch time down here, and I looked at the cars parked on the street. Mine was a few years old but these were all older. Mine was also nicer, and I hoped I didn’t have anything worse than a ticket. I had that for sure; these were all two-hour zones from eight to six.

  It wasn’t on the first block we drove, which didn’t surprise me, but we made it through the second and it wasn’t there either and I worried. Please let it be here somewhere. Towing fees were crazy, and I’d probably still have to pay a locksmith to get into the damned thing. Assuming I could prove it was mine, without any ID.

  “Slow down,” I said. She was already driving slow, but I couldn’t take a chance. If my car wasn’t here soon it might’ve been stolen. Just because I couldn’t get into it drunk didn’t mean no one broke in. I gave them all night.

  Fuck. “Stop.”

  Olive stopped the car. I got out. My Chrysler was still there, sort of. The hood was up. There wasn’t a goddamned thing under it—the whole engine was gone. And there were three parking tickets on the windshield. They left the doors, left them locked. I’d still need a locksmith.

  Olive got out of the car and looked at me. “This is yours? You got Triple A?”

  “Yeah.” I patted my pants pocket. “They’re on my fucking phone.”

  She pulled out hers. “I’ll get em for ya.” She pushed a few buttons, handed me the phone. I held it to my ear, listened to it ring.

  ***

  I couldn’t even help myself. A woman called the number and handed me her phone and a truck came and hauled my car to my mechanic. I was fucked, helpless as a baby. I’d barely turned a profit on my last bank job and fixing my car would cost more than what I had left. I needed money fast. And until I got it I didn’t even have my car. There might be an advance available if I did the right job for Tenny. I
was scared of what I’d have to do to get it.

  “I need a phone.” Maybe I looked at Olive when I said that, I didn’t even know. She’d take me to the phone store. My first call would be to Rico.

  ***

  “Meet me,” Rico said, so I had Olive drop me a few blocks from where he wanted to meet. It was five in the afternoon; the whole day took forever. Now I was back in shit, business as usual. I waited for him outside the restaurant, a Chinese place. When he got there we walked in and sat down.

  “You wanna eat?” he said.

  “Nah.” I had no appetite, I had no car, I had nothing but a phone.

  He waved to the waitress. She walked over. “Two beers.”

  She looked about fifty, must’ve dealt with all kinds of assholes. Rico was nothing new to her. “What kind?”

  “Chinese beers.”

  I waved my arm sideways, like I could erase what Rico said. “You got Tsing Tao?”

  She said it back differently than I’d pronounced it, like maybe there was another beer with a similar name.

  I smiled. “Two of those. Please.”

  She nodded and walked away.

  Rico glared at me. “You don’t like the way I order beer?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was serious. I didn’t care. “You shoulda seen my car. I don’t like anything.”

  Rico shrugged. “Can’t leave a nice car downtown overnight. Any car.”

  “Yeah, well. I fucked up. Now I need a car and some cash. Whatever I can get up front.”

  “You said that over the phone.” He turned his head sideways real quick, then back to me. “Here come the beers.”

  The waitress carried two bottles and two glasses on a tray. She set the glasses in front of us, set the tray on the table. She poured my glass just over the lip, until it was full, almost no head on the beer. She poured Rico’s second, the same way, walked away with the empty bottles and the tray.

  “She’s a pro,” I said.

  Rico looked down at his glass and nodded. “A little old for you.”

  We each took a drink. There was no one near us now. “So,” Rico said, “I talked to Tenny. You know he likes your work. You want a little up front, no problem.”

  I sighed. One problem down, one coming up. “What’s the catch?”

  “It’s a good deal. It’s a lotta money fast.”

  Shit. I shook my head. “I’m good at what I do.”

  “What you do don’t deliver what you need.”

  I nodded. “I thought—I been real good at collections, I could take some extra tough ones.”

  Rico nodded back, whispered. “You’re getting those already. This guy, we don’t even want his money anymore. We just want the guy. Anything you collect, you can keep.”

  “Fuck no, man. This ain’t what I want.”

  “It’s one time. You done worse before. You say yes, it’s money and a car in the morning.”

  “I say no. I want my old job back. Right now, I need a car.”

  “Say maybe. Say no, you disappoint the boss. You don’t wanna do that.”

  “There’s a lotta things I don’t wanna do.” I drank from my beer. “You gimme a ride back to Olive’s? And front me enough for a rental? So I can work tomorrow.”

  Rico opened his wallet, peeled off a couple hundred in twenties. “First thing in the morning,” he handed me a business card, “go to this guy and say my name and you got a car.” He passed me a piece of notebook paper. “There’s your morning list. Meet me tomorrow night, we talk again. Tonight, I give you a ride home.”

  ***

  Rico dropped me at Olive’s place. I walked up to the door and pressed the buzzer. She didn’t answer. I pulled out my new phone, looked at the time. Past six—she’d be at work. Shit, I was exhausted. At least now I had cash. I called a cab, got a ride out to The Wheel.

  She had a little grin for me when I walked in, set me up a scotch and a beer before I could ask.

  “Things better?”

  “Yeah. I’ll have a car tomorrow. And some work. Still can’t get into your place, though.”

  “Fuck. You ain’t askin for a key already, are ya?”

  “You get me home tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  ***

  I collected for Tenny. The money was good, but I had to pay back Rico for the rental car, and insurance didn’t cover what happened to mine. Not close. It took a week to get my car back, and I stayed with Olive but I’d left everyone else behind. Not that it was a lot of people, but I’d gotten close to Theresa and Jeremy. And I’d known Val practically my whole life. I was only fucked up like this because I was too tired from Tenny’s shit work when I pulled that bank job. And now I was stuck working for him again. Olive was damn good, though.

  She’d given me a key and a look, like these were special circumstances.

  “I know,” I said. “I’ll get my own place soon as I get some money.”

  “Good. But I meant, when you’re with me, you’re with me. No fucking around while you’re staying here. And yeah, get your own place.”

  She smiled, and I couldn’t tell how fast she wanted me gone. She stepped into me, put her arms behind my back, and for now I was definitely supposed to stay.

  ***

  “So. You’re with Olive now.” Rico leaned back in his chair, had a little grin with his morning coffee.

  “Now,” I nodded. “For now.”

  “That’s good. A man needs pussy. Extra when you’re going through some shit.”

  I nodded in agreement, didn’t talk about the man who caused the shit, the man who paid me. I wasn’t dumb enough to say a bad word about Tenny. But I also wasn’t dumb enough to take him up on his big offer. If he wanted a killer he could find one. I killed a man once, never wanted to again—the one guy I’d taken out needed taking.

  And even that fucked with me. For now I needed enough of Tenny’s money to get things straight, then get away from him long enough to pull one good bank job and get my life turned around forever.

  “I like Olive. But I won’t stay. I didn’t even stay with Theresa.”

  “And she was your type, right?” Rico laughed. “Fuckin clothes store owner.”

  “Hey.” I looked around, made sure no one was near us. Spoke soft anyway. “It’s not like there’s a woman I can rob banks with.”

  Rico laughed again. He was in a great mood.

  I wondered about that. “So,” I said, “that other business?”

  “No problem. Someone else took the job. I look out for you, you know?”

  “Offerin work I don’t want?”

  “All you gotta do is say no. I give you a chance to say yes.”

  Rico was vicious, but he was alright. And he’d moved up, he probably didn’t kill people himself anymore. More likely, word came down from Tenny, got passed to Rico, and he was close enough to the street to find the guy to do the job. And I’d done well at collecting, so he offered me a promotion.

  Yeah. Well, here I was back at a job I didn’t like, but it was only a list, guys who owed money and I’d make them pay and not a fucking one would go to the cops. Where if you kill somebody, it’s like cops got nothing better to do. They might not find you, but you’ll spend every second waiting for them, knowing you might have left something behind, or someone you didn’t see might have seen you. You have to live with what you’ve done, and you have to live with being hunted. Collecting from gamblers or even robbing a bank never bothered me that way. Bank jobs scared me, but they’d catch you quick or they wouldn’t catch you at all.

  I sat there sipping my coffee, looked into it a long time. Rico wasn’t smiling anymore when I looked up. He’d handed me the list as soon as I got there. This was the social part.

  His eyes were narrow. He leaned forward, rested his thick arms on the cheap metal table. “You look like you been thinking,” he said. “Don’t think too much.”

  I shook my head like he misunderstood. “I’m just a man with work to do.”

  “And p
ussy to fuck.” Rico sat back laughing. “Don’t forget that part. That’s what you’re working for.”

  I laughed with him but he had it wrong. Pussy was pussy. I worked for something else, and I wasn’t even sure what that was.

  ***

  The job was dull. I was a fucking salesman, collecting money. I wanted to hurt everyone, and most of them saw that fast, paid without getting hit. When I started the job I didn’t want to hurt anybody, but when I had to hit someone I got a rush—they were assholes and it scared me what I might do to them, but usually I inflicted pain and came away feeling I’d done the right thing. Or at least a dangerous thing.

  Now I was eager to hurt, and the pain I inflicted didn’t take away my own. This was my rehab. Rehabbing from the stupidity of doing this job too much. This time around, Tenny would pay me but I owed him, so I wouldn’t take much home. I had to make enough to get my own apartment, enough so I could quit and rob a bank. Rico made a crazy offer and I said no. Saying no to crazy: this was my new direction.

  I threatened men, I took their money, I went home. To Olive. It was alright, but there was nothing long term about it. I was there because I had to be somewhere. And she worked five nights a week, so she was usually gone by the time I got there. But it was always good to see her walk in the door.

  I watched movies and sports on TV, cut back on my drinking so I’d be sober enough for sex. I met her at the bar a couple times, but we had to drive home separate anyway, it sort of defeated the purpose. It was weird having a purpose. But she had a body like the Devil worked overtime, and she might not be mine long, I had to devour all I could.

  The couch was where I stayed until she got home and took me to bed. I drank mostly beer. It was basketball season, so I tried to make each bottle last a quarter. That left me two with three hours before she got home. So I watched a movie and finished the beer. A six pack didn’t get me drunk, just relaxed me enough to listen to music and sit on the couch waiting.

  Olive walked in. I tipped my head back to look at her. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” She set her purse down, walked over and gave me a quick kiss. She stepped into the kitchen. “I’m having red wine. You want a glass?”