“Smells good,” Butch said as he inhaled fumes of burning flesh.
“You live here long?” I asked.
“’Bout six months. But I’ll be gone two weeks after the first.”
“Eviction day?”
Butch grinned and cocked his head.
“Say,” I said. “Tell me, did Roman Gasteau live here?”
“Still do. Or maybe so. I ain’t seen’im in a few days.”
“You know’im?”
“To say hi. Hey, hey, why’ont you flip it ovah, you know I likes my meat bloody.”
“Uh-huh. You got some garlic powder?”
“Naw, man.”
I followed the crippled man’s gaze over to the kitchen shelf. There I saw a crumpled-up handkerchief, a can of Barbasol shaving cream, an uncovered jar of Skippy peanut butter, and a loaf of Wonder Bread.
“I used to run with Roman a while back,” I said. “He give some bad parties.”
“Yeah?” Butch wondered. “He ain’t never asked me. But he live down in one-B if you wanna run down there an’ see ’im.”
“Uh-huh. But if he ain’t there you think anybody ’round here might know how I could get in touch wit’ him? You know I could use a party after pullin’ all’a this meat around after me.”
“Ridley an’ them know’im.”
“He live here?”
“Up in three-A.”
I could tell by the way Butch was looking at me that he was suspicious of my questions. But the main thing on his mind was steak.
I put the pan of fried and bloody meat down in front of him. It smelled good.
I was impressed at the way Butch made Mr. Hong’s tender aged steak seem tough. He chewed and chewed, frowned and grimaced.
“Hey, brother,” he said through a mouthful of meat. “This shit here ain’t prime.”
He wanted to play, and so I gave him a show. I banged on his tile counter and swore at him and all his relations. After I got through yelling I stormed out of his apartment leaving the partially eaten steak in his frying pan.
He’d earned the tip.
RIDLEY MCCOY was a nondescript man. His hair was wavy and his eyes tended toward brown. He had a small nose and dark skin. His pants could have fit with a sports jacket but he could have also worn them to work; they went perfectly with his thin-strapped undershirt. Ridley wouldn’t look me in the eye but I knew that he was interested in cheap steak.
“Where you get’em?” he asked my chin.
“From a guy I know.”
“Could you get some more?” Here he hadn’t even tasted one steak and he already wanted a dozen.
“Maybe I could. Why? You wanna be a regular customer?”
Ridley looked from side to side and then said, “Why’ont you come on in outta earshot.”
His furniture, I was sure, was stolen from a motel. The console TV still had the markings from where a coin box had been attached. There was a small Formica-topped table that stood on a single chrome stalk in the corner. The battered Venetian blinds were levered shut and there was only one lamp, leaving the room uncomfortably dark.
One half-open door led from the room. Maybe that was a bedroom, or maybe he slept on the couch.
“How many steaks could you get?” he asked in a whispery little voice. It was the kind of voice that got you mad because you had to strain to hear it.
“I cain’t hear you, man,” I said loudly. “Somebody ’sleep in there?”
Ridley looked at the door and then back at my chin.
“Girlfriend,” he said.
“Well, maybe I better come back later.”
“Naw, man. That’s okay. She could wake up,” he said. Then he shouted, “Penny! Penny, come in here!”
I heard a rustling and then a thump; a few seconds passed and then came a groan. Soon after that the door opened. A young brown woman wearing only a man’s dress shirt came into the room. When she saw that Ridley wasn’t alone she brought two fingers to the base of her throat—I guess that was all the modesty she had left.
“Wha?”
“This is Brad, Penny. He got some steaks he wanna sell.”
“So? I was ’sleep.”
Ridley went to his roommate and gave her a big unfriendly hug. The tussle pulled the shirt far up enough for me to see that she didn’t have anything on underneath. Neither of them seemed to care what I saw.
“Why’ont you bring out some wine, baby,” Ridley said to her.
Penny went back into the bedroom and turned on a light. I could see her, through the now open door, go into another room. She returned with a quart of Black Wren red wine and a small stack of Dixie cups. She set the cups and wine on a small motel coffee table and sat down on the couch, pulling her bare feet up under her thighs.
There was a time I would have walked across fire for a woman like that. I could still feel the heat.
“Come on, girl,” Ridley complained. “Cain’t you pour it?”
“Pour it your damn self,” she replied. “I was ’sleep.”
Ridley did the honors and said to me, “Sit’own.”
I perched myself across from the man and his mate. Penny had a broad face and hair that would never let you know where it was going. Her lips were there to curse, kiss, or complain. And her widely spaced eyes saw a spectrum of light that most men never suspected existed.
“Mr. Koogan here is sellin’ steaks,” Ridley said to Penny. Then to me, “How many more steaks can you get?”
“How many can you eat?”
“I was thinkin’ that I could sell some. I know just about ev’rybody in this buildin’. The one across the street too. Maybe I could go partners wit’ you if you could get enough steak.”
That was business in L.A. An opportunity comes and you make a grab for it. Ridley didn’t know a thing about me, or my steaks, but he was willing to cement a partnership anyway. He was on me faster than I got to Idabell.
“Well, that sounds good,” I said tentatively. “How many you want?”
Ridley’s eyes almost met mine, he was that excited. Penny yawned and I wondered if there were any black dentists in L.A.
“I bet I could sell fifty’a them, if they really prime, in two, three days.”
“Fifty?” I was impressed.
“Yeah,” Ridley said.
Penny’s gaze rolled across me. She had no idea what we were talking about but she was still an important part of the negotiations.
“Well,” I said, doing the numbers in my head. “You gimme thirty-five dollars an’ we got a deal.”
“Thirty-five dollars!”
I was surprised that he could shout.
“Yep,” I said. “That give you a profit of fifteen when you sell’em.”
“Uh-uh, man. I’m the one gonna be doin’ all the work. I should get at least half.”
I tried to look like I was upset but at the same time greedy to have a man out there doing my sales.
“Okay,” I said. “Fifty-fifty.”
“When could you bring’em by?”
“I could get’em by tomorrow. But I’ma need my money.”
“What money?”
“Twenty-fi’e dollars for fifty steaks.”
“You get that when I sell’em.”
I shook my head, a somber man of experience. “No, brother. Uh-uh. I tried that once. Actually that’s why I’m here at your buildin’.” I held my breath.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Dude name’a Roman owe me some money. Right after I unload these steaks I’ma go down to Roman’s place an’ have me a talk wit’ that man.” I stroked my chin and looked menacing.
“Roman gone.” That was Penny. The mention of the Gasteau brother had gotten her to sit up.
“Moved?”
“I’ont know,” Penny said. “Cops come here today askin’ ’bout him. They took everything outta his place in bags.”
I slammed my hand down on the table so hard that both of my hosts jumped. “Goddam!”
After he settled a little Ridley asked, “He owe you a lotta money?”
“Fi’e hunnert dollars. Is that a lot?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“You know where I could find him?” I asked Penny.
She cut a glance at Ridley and said, “No.”
I could see that Ridley was torn between greed and jealousy. He wasn’t a bad-looking man but he wasn’t tall and handsome; he didn’t wear snakeskin shoes. I was sure that Penny had given Roman the eye, and maybe even a little bit more of her anatomy. Ridley didn’t want to bring that man into their motel-decorated home. But one thing I was certain of—Ridley would have dropped Penny in a minute if there was a dollar to be made.
“What about that place?” he asked her.
“What place?”
“That place I told you not to go to no mo’.”
“I thought you didn’t even wanna talk about that,” she said, sneering at her man, moving her head from side to side in a disdainful rhythm. “I thought you said that you was gonna tear my head off if I ever even said somethin’ about it.”
“And now I’m sayin’ t’tell the man here!” Ridley was asserting himself.
Penny turned to me. “There’s a club up in the Hollywood Hills,” she said. “The Chantilly. It’s a white club but the man who run it got a place around back for black—the Black Chantilly. It’s a big house and a private club like. They got a room for dancin’ an’ one for gamblin’. They got private rooms too—”
“An’ what the hell was you doin’ up there?”
Ridley was up on his feet. He swung at her with an open hand and missed, on purpose it seemed to me, over the top of her head. Penny screamed and went down on the floor, ducking under the low coffee table.
“You said you wanted me t’tell’im where Roman was!” Penny shouted. “I didn’t say nuthin’!”
“You the one said he was gone!” Ridley swung at the air again. “Maybe you know where he went to!”
“Noooo!”
“Hey! Hey, Ridley,” I said, using his name for the first time since he’d given it. “Hey, man. You wanna talk about them steaks?”
Ridley took a deep breath. Penny looked up at him and he jerked his hand like he meant to swing again, but he just wanted to see her flinch one more time.
“Hey, man,” he said to me. “Sorry, but you know this here bitch just don’t ack right. She gonna lay up on her ass wit’ me payin’ the rent, an’ then got the nerve t’be winkin’ at some fancy-assed mothahfuckah upstairs. She lucky I don’t kill both they ass!”
Penny crouched down further.
“Get the hell outta here, bitch!” Ridley screamed at her. “Why the fuck you come out here near naked in front’a some strange man?”
Penny moved quickly, staying close to the floor as she went. She made it to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Ridley was staring at the closed door.
“Women like to drive a man crazy,” he said.
“Don’t you know it,” I agreed, hoping to calm him down. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, brother.”
“What?”
“I’ll leave these nine steaks here wit’ you tonight and then I’ll come back tomorrow with fifty more. You gimme the four dollars and fifty cent an’ then I’ll come back for the balance in two more days.”
I handed the box over to him and he took it. He let his gaze ride high for a moment to catch a glimpse of my eyes.
“What you doin’ here, man?” he asked.
“Sellin’ steaks an’ lookin’ for a man wear snakeskin shoes.”
“You gonna hurt him?”
“If I can,” I said. “If I can.”
CHAPTER 16
IT WAS A LITTLE AFTER NINE when I got home. I was soaking from the rain that had started while I asked questions. It was that blanket type of L.A. rain and I’d left the umbrella a block away in my car.
Feather was asleep on the couch with the damn dog nestled in her arms. Jesus was watching a western on channel thirteen. He was nodding. Jesus spent two or three hours every day practicing for track and field. He ate large meals and went to bed early but he always tried to stay up until I got home. In the earlier years it was because he felt bad for me after my wife, Regina, had left. But now it was just habit. I was used to my kiss good night and he was used to giving it to me.
“You better go to bed, Juice.”
He nodded and then reached over to shake Feather but I said, “Leave her. I’ll get her to bed.”
He came over to hug me and I kissed him on the top of his head. Then he stumbled down to the hallway toward his bed.
I went to the bathroom and then to the kitchen. There was ice water in an old-fashioned milk bottle in the refrigerator.
I took the phone on its long tangled cord into the living room and sat down on the couch next to my girl. When Pharaoh growled I battled his nose with my finger. He moved away from me, down to the other end of the sofa, and considered dog curses to lay upon my soul.
I placed the phone in my lap and was about to dial a number when the thing rang. I picked it up quickly. Feather moved her head up and opened her eyes, but when she saw me she closed them again.
The first thing I heard was the racket of a crowded room or maybe a public space. There were people talking and things being moved and slammed down. There was laughter too.
“Easy?” Her voice was loud to get over the din and also hoarse because she wanted to whisper. But as strained as the words were I still knew who it was.
“Idabell?”
“Oh, it is you. Thank God.”
“Where are you?” I asked.
“A little place on Santa Barbara. I have to talk to somebody here. Oh, I’m in a lot of trouble, honey. A lot of trouble.”
Somebody laughed in the background, a good joke being told in some other part of town. There was music but its words and melody were lost in the static of the telephone wire.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Somebody killed my husband,” she whispered. “And, and …”
“And what?”
“And his twin brother … Roman.”
“Who killed them?”
When she said, “Easy?” I knew that she wasn’t going to give up any information right away.
“What?”
“How’s Pharaoh?”
The cur raised his head from his corner of the couch. Maybe his dog ears picked up the name on her lips.
“He’s fine,” I said.
“Can I talk to him?”
“Talk to him? No. The kids’re ’sleep. But don’t worry, he’s fine.”
“I have to get away, Easy.”
“Idabell, what happened? What happened to your husband?”
“I don’t know,” she whimpered.
Pharaoh raised his head a half an inch more.
“I left home just like I told you. Holland was high, I guess I didn’t tell you that. He’d been drinking, drinking.” She repeated the word as if she were trying to convince me of its accuracy. “And then he went out.”
“Where’d he go?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But as soon as he was gone I left with Pharaoh.”
“Why were you so scared, Idabell?”
“He’d gone crazy.”
“Crazy from what?”
“I don’t know, Easy,” she whined. “I don’t know.”
“And did he call you at school?”
“Yes.”
“And you went to meet him?”
There was an explosion of laughter somewhere in the restaurant.
“No,” she said. “He said that he was going to come down to the school to get me and Pharaoh. He said that he would pull me right out of the classroom if I didn’t come. You know he would have done it. So I ran. I’m sorry that I left Pharaoh with you but I was scared that if Holly found me with him he would have done what he said.”
“And so then you went to go’n tell Mr. Preston about this?”
“How did … I mean, yes. I went to tell Bill, because I was scared. You had already helped me with Pharaoh. I couldn’t ask for any more than that.”
“Uh-huh.” I was thinking that Holland wasn’t the only one to ever hate that dog. “So why are you callin’ me if you got so much trouble? We don’t even know each other.”
“Don’t be like that, Easy. I meant yesterday. You’re the first person in a long time that I feel safe with.”
“What about Mr. Preston?” I asked.
She paused for a moment and then said, very softly, “I called you, not him.”
“Because you feel safe with me?”
“Yes.”
“But what about me?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, am I safe? The cops are on me already. I asked where you were gone to and now the cops wanna talk to me.”
“You didn’t tell them about Pharaoh, did you?”
“No, I didn’t. But I woulda told’em if I didn’t think that they’d throw me together with you. For all I know you’d tell ’em that I killed your husband ’cause we had a roll on the desktop.”
She had no answer to that.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” I asked her.
“I don’t know what to say, except that if you don’t help me I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Hold up, Mrs. Turner. I don’t even know you. I don’t give a damn about you or your husband an’ I surely don’t care ’bout that damn dog—”
Pharaoh jumped to his feet and yelped once. I swatted him off the couch and he went running, probably to look for my other slipper.
“Was that him?” Idabell asked. “Was that Pharaoh?”
“Yeah, but I can’t put him on right now. He had to go to the bathroom.”
Feather shifted peacefully, putting her arm up on my lap.
“I know you’re angry, Easy,” she said. I was sorry that I’d told her my name. “It’s not your problem, you’re right. But I still need you to do one thing for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Could you bring me my dog? I’m going to leave L.A. I’m going to leave the country. All I need is Pharaoh.”
“That dog’ll mark you,” I said. “You’d be better off leavin’ him somewhere and having him sent on later.”
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