Knuckledragger

by Rusty Barnes

  “We work on a need-to-know basis,” John said. “I have not needed to know anything in weeks.”

  “What about all those cars?” I said, gesturing outside.

  “They are Eddie’s cars, mostly vehicles that he is building up to race with. Maybe two of them run, the rest are being plundered for parts.”

  “OK. Count on working next week, all right?” I said. John nodded and tossed his cigarette butt onto the office floor. I looked at him. “First things first, pick that shit up.” John sighed and picked it up.

  “I fear this may be difficult for you,” John said.

  “I think you’re right,” I said.

  CHAPTER 24

  I LEFT THE SHOP FOR REVERE, trembling with anger. Either I was supposed to bring this place back up to standards with basically no one participating in the job or even prepared to, or I was being set up to fail dramatically. Nina would be only the biggest issue I’d have to face. I turned the car down Shirley Street and briefly checked out the playground—no one there—and then stopped into Tedeschi’s for a bag of Hershey’s mixed mini candy bars which I stuck in the pocket of my cargo shorts. The nickname hadn’t come from nowhere. Then I stopped in to BK’s Bar and Grill, which faced the ocean directly and held a good crowd of locals and beachgoers who hadn’t been captured by the ambience of the Shipwreck Bar. I sat at the end of the bar nearest a TV, which held a baseball game at deafening volume. Steve, a big-bellied man who wore a greasy apron every day, had been cook and head bartender there since the bad old day of the seventies, when Revere Beach held more interest for gangs and cops and heroin addicts than the working class it catered to now.

  “Can I get a shot of Beam and a Bud?” I asked. Steve nodded and set me up. I dropped the shot immediately and as it sank its tendrils into my muscles I tried to forget about what I had learned that day. The Sox were down two nothing in the top of the second. I held my phone in my hand for a moment and thought about Rosie, but I knew I’d be better off leaving her well enough alone right now. At the end of the bar was this guy Frank who worked maintenance at the hospital satellite down the street. He liked pastries as much as I liked candy, so he was always near the playground morning and early afternoon to capture the fresh stuff at Revere House of Pastry.

  “What’s good, Frank?” I said. He waved at me and then I realized he was on the phone, so I turned back to the game. I could call Nina, except Otis was probably with her and that wouldn’t be a good scene. I tried to flex my broken fingers, and the first couple seemed fine, but the pinky and ring finger didn’t cooperate. At the other end of the bar Frank shut off his phone and brought his beer down the bar to me.

  “Jesus Christ, Candy—don’t get married,” Frank said. “My wife is gonna murder me one of these days.”

  “You’ll be dead. You won’t give a shit.” I said, and saluted him with my Bud.

  “Ain’t that the truth?” Frank said. We clinked bottles and returned to watching the game. “I wish the Sox would just can this SOB.”

  “Where’s fucking Pedro when you need him?” I said.

  “A-fucking-men,” Frank said. “Hey, did you know Otis was out of jail?”

  “Yeah, he gave me a new job up in Lynn.”

  “No shit? Whaddya doin’?”

  “Basically getting the ship back in shape, I guess.” I said. “I’m not really sure yet.”

  “Desk job?” Frank asked, holding two fingers up for Steve, who got us both more beer.

  “Yep,” I said.

  “Fuckin-A. Moving up in the world,” Frank said. “Gotta be better than busting heads.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said.

  “Otis is laying down on the job,” Frank said. “I never seen that fucker go to jail, and this is twice in the last couple months.” That was news to me.

  “Where else did he get arrested?” I said.

  “Over in Quincy. Unpaid parking tickets. Those fuckers follow you forever.”

  “Huh,” I said. “I wonder what he’s doing there?”

  “Chasing pussy, no doubt. The man can’t get enough,” Frank said. I drank back my beer. Nina was from Roslindale, so she had no family or residence there. Did Otis have somebody else? For reals?

  “I always thought it was Nina for him,” I said.

  “Nah. He’s like the guy in that country song, women in five or six places. Good thing none of them know about the others.”

  “Some guys have all the luck,” I said.

  “He’s a fucking squatty guy to have all those women.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “He pays me pretty good.”

  “Don’t take me wrong. I like him,” Frank said. “He’s just too lucky. I don’t trust that shit.”

  “Yeah, I hear that.” I dropped a twenty and a ten on the bar and stood up, stretching. “I got your beer, Frank.”

  “Good man,” Frank said. “Thanks.”

  CHAPTER 25

  I LEFT THE BAR AND WALKED back to my car. I pulled the candy out of my pocket and put a couple pieces in my mouth. I needed some sleep, and to think over Otis and Nina and Rosie. It was tough to find an angle I looked good from. I’d have to straighten out things soon. I drove down the road and turned on to Winthrop Avenue. There was a bite to the late afternoon air. Fall would be bringing college kids and tourists into town soon. That meant I’d probably have loud neighbors again. The other half of my house got rented to Salem State students and others eager to gentrify another suburb of Boston. I decided again not to call Rosie. I had to think about what I’d gotten into. I went out to my bench and loaded up the bar. If I rested it in the palm of my bad hand I could still do a fraction of my routine, which was much better than nothing. Breaking a sweat always helped me think. My cell phone buzzed right in the middle of my set, so I let it go. When I finished I took a shower, then picked up the phone. Nina. And Rosie. Both calls less than ten minutes before. Then someone knocked on the door. I grabbed my .357 and stuck it into my shorts before I answered.

  I opened the door and a huge black man stood in front of me. His biceps were the size of my thighs, and I’m no small kid. “Yeah?” I said.

  “Are you Candy?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Can I come in?” he said.

  “Fuck no you can’t come in. Who are you?”

  “I have been told to tell you to lay off the body shop.”

  “By who?”

  “Concerned citizens,” he said.

  “Oh fuck that,” I said. “Is this the Wop again? I’m gonna twist his fucking legs over his neck when I collect again.”

  “No. Just leave things the way they are.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” I said. “Are you with Otis?”

  “My name is Junius. I am not with Otis.”

  “Until he tells me something different, I’ll be there.”

  “It’s in your best interest to leave the shop alone,” Junius said. He flashed a roll of hundreds as big as my fist, held it out to me.

  “So you want me dead, too.” I said. “Fuck off.” I slammed the door in his face.

  He knocked on the door again. I pulled the .357 and opened the door. It took about two seconds for Junius to take the gun out of my hand. With his other hand he twisted my wrist somehow and I ended up on the floor. Not easy to do. He just held the gun, didn’t point it back at me. I leaned on the heel of my bad hand and tried to get up but Junius kicked me back down again.

  “This money is yours,” he said. “Whether you want it or not.”

  “Yeah right. Who from?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Here.” He offered me his goddamned hand as if he wasn’t the one who’d put me on the floor. I took it and he helped me to my feet. Once I was up he reached into his pocket and I flinched slightly before he brought out the roll of hundreds and handed it to me. I didn’t count it, but it felt thick as hell to me.

  “I don’t understand what you want me to do,” I said. “And I’m giving th
is money back as soon as I figure out where the orders are coming from.”

  Junius shrugged and handed the .357 back butt first. I took it and held it awkwardly at my side. “Just don’t rock the boat,” he said. “Business, such as it is, is good. The owners would like to keep it that way.”

  “I thought Otis owned that shithole?”

  “He has people to answer to just as you do,” Junius said. “I’ll leave now.” I watched Junius’s broad back disappear down my stairs and out in the drive to a new-looking Mercedes Benz. He got in on the driver’s side and I had a bad moment. If Junius was the driver, what would the enforcers look like? I chose not to think about it as I was suddenly awash in sweat and shaking. Like a post-fight release except not. I’d had my ass handed to me by a driver. I called Otis right away, and left a message. It was then I remembered the roll of bills in the pocket of my shorts. I sat down on my sofa, .357 beside me, and counted the money quickly. Fifty hundred-dollar bills. Five thousand dollars to sit on the shop and do nothing. Whoever was pointing Junius in my direction had my attention.

  CHAPTER 26

  I WOKE UP ON MY SOFA to a large weight on top of me. I panicked and threw it off me in a sleep fog. “Shhh, shhh, Irish. It’s just me,” a voice said. Rosario. I relaxed and she led me back through the kitchen to the bedroom. I clicked on the AC before I returned to the bed, and Rosie nestled into my armpit as if she had been there all night. “You all right, Irish?” she said in the haze of early sleep.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll tell you more in the morning.” I fell asleep with the scent of sweet oil in her hair. It wasn’t shampoo, I decided before I fell asleep, it was something else earthier and more romantic than Prell or Suave, what I used on the buzzcut a couple times a week. I dreamed of dark everything, a dark room, my dark car, my head under water trying to breathe, until my alarm went off at 8 a.m. I’d made it through to another weekend. Rosie continued to sleep beside me. I got out of the bed and took off my fingerless glove on the bad hand. I could torque it around a bit, which was much better than even the day before. It wouldn’t be long. I took a long hot shower with the .357 on the sink. I didn’t want to get caught again the way Junius had gotten to me so easily. It shouldn’t have been that easy for him no matter how good he was at his job. I had too many distractions. I could see in the mirror the cuts on my face and cheek would scar eventually. It looked like I had shingles or something. I made an even uglier face in the mirror. Good thing the women in my life seemed not to care.

  I walked out naked and dug some clean shorts out of a laundry basket from last week or the week before. It’d been awhile since I’d done laundry. I also took Junius’s money from yesterday’s clothes and stuck it in the right pocket. No sense it lying around waiting for Rosie to ask where it came from.

  Rosie stirred then and supported her head with one lean arm as she looked over at me coolly.

  “We OK, Rose?” I said as I sat down on the bed.

  “Not really,” she said.

  “Shit.”

  “You’re not off the hook,” she said. “One of these days you’re going to have to figure out whether or not you can trust me.”

  “I trust you,” I said.

  “Not with everything,” Rosie said.

  “Everything,” I said, mentally crossing my fingers behind my back.

  “Liar,” she said, hitting me with a pillow.

  “IHOP?” I said.

  “Oooh, big spender.”

  “I like pancakes, what can I say?”

  “You better treat me right, or I’ll find some other nigga.”

  “What did you say?” I said.

  “Figure of speech,” Rosie said, grinning. “Don’t take everything so seriously.”

  I pulled a t-shirt on and put a UMASS hoodie on over the top. I tucked the .357 into its pancake holster and thrust it inside my waistband, safely away from my cock. I’d heard the stories of guys blowing their shit off with pistols tucked in at the waist. It wasn’t going to be me.

  “It’s going to be like that now, is it?” Rosie said.

  “For a while,” I said. “Some strange stuff happening lately. I want to be prepared.”

  “You’re the boss of your own life,” Rosie said. “Don’t come to me all shot up too. I don’t know if I could handle that.”

  “I thought this was casual,” I said.

  “When I wiped blood off your face and called in a solid to get you fixed, it got serious.”

  What could I say? I smiled along with her and watched as she threw off the blanket.

  “Stop that,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Whatever you’re thinking about me, it’s wrong.”

  “You’re hot as hell,” I said.

  “Get the fuck out. I need to use the bathroom.”

  “Why should I?”

  “You don’t need to smell my stank,” Rosie said. “Out!” I left her to her own devices and stuffed my pockets with candy waiting for her to get going. It was another Monday morning.

  CHAPTER 27

  DRIVING UP THE ROAD toward the shop, I missed my turn in the rotary so decided to buy some DD. Rosie had a hankering for it too, so I got us the same thing. Iced coffees, extra sugar and whole milk for me, whole milk and caramel swirl for her. I was waiting for the counter girl to bring the drinks when I looked in the rearview and saw Nina and Miguel. Clearly, she wasn’t going in to work. Rosie had her headphones on—she couldn’t stand my classic rock fetish—so I took a chance and bought their drinks too. I pulled ahead and could see Miguel wave to me. Nina looked mad. I gave Miguel a two-finger salute and turned back into the rotary at twenty miles-per-hour, which made at least three drivers slam on the brakes in protest. I couldn’t respect anyone who couldn’t figure out the most basic rule of North Shore traffic. Gun it going into the rotary, mellow inside, gun it going out.

  “So what am I going to do at this place?” Rosie said.

  “Help me organize the office,” I said. “You don’t understand. But you will.” I put my coffee in between my legs. Rosie had the only cup-holder spoken for.

  “I could make more working. By the way, how much am I being paid?”

  “What do you think you’re worth?” I said.

  “Fuck off,” she said. I leaned back in the seat and dug the bills Junius had given me from my pocket. I tossed it into her lap.

  “Take out what you think you’re worth,” I said, and patted her thigh.

  “Where did this come from, Irish?” Rosie said, her eyes narrowed.

  “The good job fairy,” I said.

  “That’s a lot of money.”

  “How much would you make in a shift with tips?”

  “Depends. Maybe two?”

  “So take two.”

  “I’m worth more than that.”

  “Back to my first question, then.” Rosie peeled off four hundreds and put them in her tiny purse. “Today and tomorrow,” she said, and put her headphones back on.

  “By the way, whose drinks you pay for?” I didn’t think she’d heard. I was on my heels.

  “Boss’s kid Miguel. He likes me.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “Not the tramp driving?”

  “That’s Otis’s woman. Miguel’s mom.”

  “All right. Even you ain’t that crazy.” Rosie settled back and pulled one earphone out. “I can hear you if you want to say sweet things to me.”

  “You’re the best, Rosario,” I said, and tickled the side of her breast.

  “Better believe it,” she said.

  CHAPTER 28

  I TURNED IN TO THE SHOP and took note of the ten or fifteen cars waiting in the lot. Some of them undoubtedly belonged to the guys, but that seemed like a good day’s work if you considered each of them might take an hour average if they didn’t have to send out for parts. I saw Ramon and Marcos both hip-deep in the same Chrysler LeBaron outside in the lot. I did not see Nina’s car, but then I didn’t expect it. I walked into the office space. A
skinny tough-looking man I assumed was Eddie had an ear full of cellphone pressed to his bald head. The window fan blew a few strings of hair off. Ropy muscle ran down his arms, but you could barely see it for all the bad ink he had. He held up one finger to me. John, the smart one, sat on a couch intended for the people waiting for repairs, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. He gave me a slow nod and looked Rosie up and down. He licked his lips.

  “Know your place, buddy,” I said. John spread his hands out in a Who-me? gesture.

  “Give me your keys, Irish.” Rosie clutched her purse and sucked at her latte, which she put down on Eddie’s desk to take the keys from me. “You know where I’ll be,” she said.

  When she had gone, John spoke up. “Lucky man, Mr. Candy.”

  “It’s just Candy. No mister.” I sat down on the couch beside him and waited for Eddie to be off the phone. I’d already developed a healthy dislike for him based solely on his end of the phone conversation. He seemed to be talking a woman off the edge concerning his whereabouts on the previous weekend. I lifted my hand and spun my finger in a get on with it motion. Eddie flipped me off. I figured I would give him two minutes, then feed him the phone piece by piece. After being braced by Junius the night before, I had no intentions of repeating the loss of pride. The left hand, though better, would crunch under any small impact. I wondered if bones in my wrist had been compromised too. I hated being one-handed. I’m capable with my hands. One-handed, I had to work without my confidence, which is the biggest factor in a fight. I’d have to use my big-boy words to settle with this Eddie. Happily, he pressed the phone off and tossed it on the desk. Then he took a long deliberate drink of what I assumed was coffee.

  “Eddie, this is Candy,” John said. “Our savior.” He laughed.

  “What the fuck do you want, Candy?”

  “I’m in charge here now. Otis’s orders.”

  “I don’t know any Otis,” Eddie said. John laughed.