by Mike Dennis
This was Linda’s idea. Eddie had already pissed Raymond off by missing yesterday’s payment. There was no telling what revenge he was cooking up. One thing for sure, no loan shark just sat around, passively allowing this kind of account go by the boards.
Maybe he’ll never find you, Linda said, but if you don’t send him the cash, he’ll never quit looking. And because he’s mob, then they’ll never quit. Pay him off to make sure he’s off your back. He won’t tell Salazar, because he’s got no reason to once he gets the dough. If he hears about you being knifed to death, it’ll look like you sent him the money late yesterday and got your ass killed last night. At any rate, forty grand’s a small price to pay to make him go away.
Eddie arrived back at the apartment, greeted by the aroma of frying bacon, accompanied by the sound of the sizzling strips in a skillet. Linda hovered over it, also guiding eggs and toast through their motions. After last night, though, Eddie wasn’t yet ready for food.
“Got any coffee?” he asked, slouching at her furniture-warehouse kitchen table. The black trash bag still lay there on the floor looking like yesterday’s garbage.
“Coming right up.” She poured him some of the fresh brew into a thick white cup.
“Where’s Felina?” he asked.
She motioned toward the bedroom. “Where else?”
”C’mon, Sis, why dontcha cut her a little slack. She’s really okay.”
Linda continued turning the bacon, flipping several pieces at once.
Without looking up, she said, “You still don’t understand, little brother. I know you better than anybody ever has. Better’n anybody ever will. I know what’s going on here.” She turned away from the bacon to face Eddie, then said, “She’s a looker and she’s probably great pussy, and that’s why you’re taking up with her. But let me tell you the real deal. This looker’s only looking out for herself. I shit you not.”
Eddie slowly shook his head, while the hot coffee slid down his insides, warming everything it touched. Perfect stuff for this kind of morning.
“Nope. I don’t think you got it right this time, Sis.”
Linda went back to fiddling with the food.
“You’re the one that’s got it wrong. You always do when it comes to this stuff.” She faced him directly. “You remember that little North Side bitch you knocked up that time? I told you all about her, right? Told you to ditch her, remember? What’d that wind up costing me? About a grand? Twelve hundred?”
“Now wait a second, she wasn’t —”
“And what about that my-shit-don’t-stink college girl from Tanglewood? You thought just because you were living over on Woodway Drive, all them classy women were gonna come running. All she really wanted was a taste of the gambling world, a look at real live lowlifes. Slumming around, that’s what she was doing. How much did you blow on her? Hm? Don’t you know that she’s probably giving head right now to some rich-lawyer boyfriend while they tool around River Oaks in his fucking Porsche.”
His elbows on the table, Eddie dropped his head between his hands. “Linda, you don’t understand. I just wanted to —”
She wouldn’t let him finish. “I know what you wanted. You wanted gorgeous women falling all over themselves to get to you. But you never could understand why they always fucked you around in the end. If you’d’ve only listened to me, you might’ve learned a thing or two.” She sat down at the table with him, putting her hands on his cheeks, propping his head up level with hers. “Eddie, you’re my brother. I love you. I really and truly love you. But don’t you see? You’re an easy mark for these women, and as long as you let them, they’re gonna take full advantage of you. And I will do everything in my power to prevent that.”
“But Linda, Felina’s not really that way.” Linda was about to interrupt him again, but he halted her. “No wait, listen. She warned me about Val. She showed me the newspaper that said Salazar was still alive. It was her who suggested we leave town. Her neck’s right out there with mine. If it wasn’t for her, I might be dead right now. For real!”
“You gotta trust me, little brother. You know I got your best interests at heart. You can only hope that she does. I can tell you right now that she’s thinkin’ about her own tight little ass first and foremost. I know women like her. They’re born mistreaters. Goddam wrong numbers, all of them. They wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. Not if it didn’t suit ‘em. But you know I’d never steer you wrong. Never.”
“No … you wouldn’t,” Eddie said.
Linda’s voice ratcheted downward, as their eyes met in complete understanding. “Oh, I know it’s not really your fault, baby. You can’t help it, being the way you are. But when I see these bitches trying to move in on you like that, I get real defensive for you. You’re my blood, Eddie. I raised you. And it’s my job to watch over you as best I can.”
She softly kissed his forehead, then patted his hands. Their faces relaxed into somewhat-smiles, their hands squeezed tight.
“I know … I know,” he whispered, closing his eyes, and making the world go away.
19
By mid-afternoon, Houston had turned cold, and the ship channel area looked more miserable than ever. An ashen film seemed to have descended over everything. The whitening sky suggested midwinter, not November. Foreign tankers steamed up the channel from the Gulf seeking Texas crude, strange-colored flags flying from their masts, flecks of rust showing at the waterline.
Jimbo’s Tavern stood on a colorless corner in a neighborhood where people lived because they had to. Cats darted from yard to yard, occasionally scooting under houses, always hungry, always on the prowl for rats. They were never disappointed.
A drunk stumbled out the door of Jimbo’s, almost knocking over the two men who were coming in. He was so loaded, he never acknowledged them. Because he stank, they reeled backward in disgust.
But once they straightened up, they entered with purpose. These two didn’t fit in here, with their silk shirts and ties and their long dark topcoats. This was the land of the lost, of little money, and of unshaven men endlessly searching for whiskey and willing women, never finding enough of either.
The bartender, barely distinguishable from the few customers, moved uneasily. These strangers were too fancy-looking; they were here because something was wrong. On top of everything else, they were Mexicans.
“What can I do for you fellas?” he asked.
The shorter one looked over at the pool table in the corner. “Did Tony Chávez ever play pool in here?”
With a slow move, the bartender rubbed the loose, stubbly skin around his chin.
“Tony? Yeah, Tony. I remember him. Young fella, good- looking.” The two strangers nodded. “Yeah, he useta come in here. But it was a long time ago. Lessee, maybe a year or more.”
“He like to shoot pool a lot?”
”Well, I guess he — say, who are you fellas, anyway?”
Rafael Vega reached across the bar — a long reach for him — and grabbed the bartender’s filthy shirt. His voice was mean and frosty. “We’re the guys who gonna break your fucking face unless you tell us what we wanna know. Now, did he like to shoot pool?”
The bartender’s chest trembled under Vega’s iron grip.
“Yeah. Y-yeah. Tony was pretty good, all right. He liked playing pool. But I swear, I swear I ain’t seen him in over a year.”
Vega’s quick eyes scanned the joint for any sign of interference. A couple of men at the far end of the bar silently slurped their draft beers. In the back booth, a fortyish drunk made wild gestures to the slovenly older woman across from him. Or maybe she was younger. In any case, she ignored him, fixing a vacant stare into the bottom of her beer glass.
“Where’d he go?” Vega asked.
“Well, I-I c-can’t say for sure, but I heard he got a job workin’ for some rich Mess’can fella and started making a little money.” Vega relaxed his hold on the shirt collar, as the bartender breathed a little easier. “Y’know, when fellas ar
ound here start makin’ some money, they generally don’t come around anymore. That’s how it was with Tony. He just quit comin’ around.”
“Where’d he go to shoot pool?”
“Well, now, lessee … I, uh …I think … yeah, thassit. I think I heard he was hanging around a place over on Navigation.”
“What place?” Vega’s bad intentions were showing.
The bartender sank deep into thought, rubbing his chin again.
“Lessee, um … what was that place? Shoot, it was my cousin who told me he saw Tony over there. Was it T something? Wait, I think it was something like T or — yeah, thassit. T & T’s. Over on Navigation.”
20
At the very moment the Mexicans were leaving Jimbo’s, Eddie Ryan was watching Linda walk out of her apartment. She was off to run a few errands, including the purchase of a fake mustache at the local greasepaint shop. Following their little chat, he felt a lot better about things.
He had become more and more convinced that going through life as Lowell Garner, at least for the time being, didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Especially since he had the money … and Felina.
Felina.
He looked in the bedroom. Here it was, going on two in the afternoon, and she was still off in dreamland. He tiptoed in, only to stand over the bed as she slept.
There, in the heavily draped room, he felt as though he were watching her from a hiding place. Through light, measured breathing, she radiated that certain delicate innocence he’d always imagined about her. Even like this, with her hair messed up and makeup gone, she was enchanting. All those times he’d seen her with Val — when she was his, his property — he had always wished for this moment. This moment right now, when he could look over her slumbering figure and say, this is mine.
All mine.
He just knew it was true. She had gone to the mat for him, risking her life just for him. He couldn’t believe a woman like this would do something like that. It coated him with this, this sweet sensation of … of … love?
Was it love? Is this what it felt like? Could this be it?
Could this bewitching young beauty actually have found the love inside him? The love buried in his deepest recesses? The love he always suspected was there?
He hesitated because he wanted to do so many things right then. He wanted to bend down and kiss her cheek ever so lightly. This feeling of affection swarmed over him, warming him all over. A smile made its way onto his angular face, and he knew he wanted to protect her forever from all the snares and treachery that awaited them in the world outside the door. Then, he would kiss her, and she would slowly lift her lids to reveal those alluring black eyes, still shrouded in sleep. After a petite stretch, she would breathe his name with a smile, and a wonderful day, his second full one as a millionaire, would begin.
But if he did all that, he would spoil this picture. Because he also wanted to isolate this fabulous moment, like a freeze-frame, and yes, freeze it, keep it just like this, for always. To press it between the pages of a scrapbook, tucked away somewhere in a secret drawer where no one would ever find it. Where he could pull it out some day in the future and gaze at it, bathing himself in the warmth that filled him right now. That way, he could retain this delectable feeling for all time, this feeling of having it all, as well as knowing that, for right now, for this one single solitary second, nobody could take it away.
But if he just stood there looking at her, her luscious curves visible beneath the bedcovers, he would be denying the quavering that welled up within him at this very moment. The fearfully intoxicating desire that always defied reason, that made him peel off his shirt and fumble with his belt buckle the way he did now.
And when those familiar flames were fed, as they were now, he could only surrender. He could only jerk his pants down as the fire began to envelop him. And when he startled her by jumping into bed, he could only take her, take her hard and rough, yielding to his own exciting compulsions.
21
The mustache fit perfectly. Thick and wide, it covered the entire area above his upper lip. And it gave Eddie a passing resemblance to the late Lowell Garner. His first look in the mirror made him smile.
“Goddamn, if I’d’a known I looked this good, I’d’a grown one of these a long time ago.” He touched it with the fingertips of both hands, stroking it downward toward his mouth.
“Ooh, I like it,” said Felina. “It makes you look like...like you mean business.” He recalled the bedroom business they had just completed. He’d give her more of that later.
“Damned if you don’t kinda favor him, little brother,” Linda said with admiration. “Eyes are different, though.”
“Makes me look a little older, doesn’t it, Sis? Whaddya think?”
“Maybe a little,” she replied. “But that’s okay. You always had a babyish look about you, anyway. This makes you look … better.”
“Yeah,” Felina added. “You look really different.”
He continued preening in the mirror for a minute more, then Linda said, “It’s almost time for the news.”
She went over and turned on the TV. Soon, a well-coiffed anchor appeared on the screen behind fancy graphics, announcing the first look at the news.
The graphics faded, the music died, as the anchor intoned, “The city’s murder rate continues to climb as a tourist was stabbed to death last night in the French Quarter.” They sat there holding their breaths as he solemnly continued: “Edward Ryan, thirty-two, of Houston, was found late last night lying in a pool of blood in the one thousand block of St Louis Street. He had been stabbed once in the stomach, apparently as he was getting out of his car. According to police, there were no witnesses, but a search of the victim’s clothing revealed robbery as the likely motive. Time of death is estimated to be around two a.m.
“Ryan’s occupation is not known, nor have any next of kin been located. The mayor today moved quickly to assure everyone that tourists are safe on our streets, despite this isolated incident. However, the appalling number of street crimes continues to soar. A new task force on crime is expected …”
Linda clicked it off. Audible sighs filled the room. Both women hugged Eddie, squeezing the breath out of him.
“Awri-i-ight! We did it,” he cried.
“Now let’s just hope your friends in Houston get wind of this,” Linda said.
Felina was exhilarated. “Oh Eddie, I’m so happy for you. This clears the way for us. Now we can get out of here.”
“Yeah, and it’s all because of you, darlin’.” He lovingly stroked her hair as he smiled. “That was great thinking right there on the spot.” He turned to Linda. “Now Sis, you got to admit, she done good.”
His eyes bore in on his sister. “Come on, come on,” he said through a wide grin. “You c’n admit it.”
Linda’s head lay on his chest. Reluctantly, she nodded.
“If it’s gonna keep those scumbags away from you, then … well, then I guess it was good thinking. This is probably the best thing that could’ve happened, if it means you’re staying alive.”
“Alive is right,” he said. “Speaking of which, I think I’m gonna go out right now. I need some clothes. I only brought a couple of things with me.” He eyed Felina. “You too, darlin’. C’mon. We could both use some new things.”
She sat up straight. “Eddie, shouldn’t we be leaving? I mean, now is our chance and —”
He patted her reassuringly. “We will, darlin’, we will. We gotta get a car first, you know. The cops took the Ford. It’s too late in the day right now, but first thing tomorrow, we’ll get one and then we blow this town, okay?” She made a gesture, kind of like a shrug, and he added, “Meanwhile, let’s go get those clothes. C’mon.”
She went to get her jacket. It was too thin for this rapidly cooling day, but it was the only one she had brought with her. Eddie, meanwhile, went into the bedroom and retrieved his .38 from the suitcase.
“Hold it, hold it,” said Linda. “Where the he
ll you think you’re going with that thing?”
He slipped it in his waistband under his shirt. “I gotta have protection, I mean, we’re running this game okay right now, but it won’t mean shit if Val Borden comes walking down the street. He’ll recognize me a mile away, even with this mustache.”
She snatched the gun away from him. “And what if he does? You gonna plug him right in the middle of Canal Street? Right in broad daylight? Use your damn head, little brother. You can’t go walking around the French Quarter carrying this. You’re living on Lowell’s ID as it is, and the last thing you want is for the cops to find this.”
She put the rod in a kitchen drawer, clattering around with spoons and things.
“You’re just going out to buy clothes,” she said. “So do it. Act like a couple of tourists who need some extra things. It won’t be hard to blend in around here. Just walk down Burgundy a few blocks. It’s not a real busy street, so you shouldn’t run into too many people. Turn left on Canal, and in a block or two there’ll be some stores. Buy your clothes and come right back here using the same route.”
“Burgundy to Canal,” he repeated. “Turn left.”
“Right. And Eddie —” She took his hand. “For Chrissakes, be careful.”
He nodded as Felina said, “Don’t worry. I’ll see that he doesn’t get careless.”
I’ll bet you will, thought Linda.
Eddie went to the kitchen and peeled off a thousand dollars, then — sure, why not — another five hundred for good measure.
Shit, if I want a thousand bucks, or ten thousand, or even a hundred thousand, there it is! All I gotta do is go get it outa the bag.
Felina eagerly took his arm, and they went out the door and through the courtyard. From the window, Linda watched as they left the building, smiling and joking.
Beyond the apartment buildings across the street, she eyed the tip of the downtown skyline peering over their rooftops, a reminder of the big world Eddie was about to enter. Her thoughts turned to his uncertain future, and the danger that would certainly hover around him for the rest of his life, however long that was.