Compared to the blistering heat, inside was an oasis. The slightly scented air from the conditioning units hit me as I walked in and it cooled my face. I walked through the casino and past some restaurants and the Beatles Love bar with its large REVOLUTION lettering that made up one of the walls. I looped around, trying not to look at the faces of the people that were rhythmically dumping their money into the dinging machines and getting drunk.
I got past a small fountain and trees and saw Ty standing near the check-in desk. His arms were folded and he was staring off at nothing in particular.
“Hey,” I said, walking up to him.
“You’re limpin’. I can’t use you if you’re winged.”
“I’m fine,” I said, shocked that he noticed despite my best effort to hide it.
“I’ll take you at your word but you’re on probation with me, Tommy. You can’t keep up, you get cut.”
“I’m fine.”
He shrugged. He looked over through the large glass doors to a valet that was outside. He pointed to him with his chin. “That’s who we’re here for.”
“The valet.”
“The valet.” He took out a piece of gum and unwrapped it, slowly sucking on it before putting it into his mouth and chewing. “Don’t say shit. Don’t pull your firearm unless you have to, and if you do, you shoot to kill. Got it?”
“You want me to kill the valet?”
“I want you to be a man and act like a man. Don’t show fear, basic dog psychology.” He waited until the valet handed off a car to a family and they had driven away. “Let’s go.”
We stepped out the doors to the front of the Mirage and the valet had his back to us. He didn’t notice when Ty snuck up behind him. I thought he was going to tap him on the shoulder but instead he popped him as hard as he could in the back of the neck, right on the spine. The valet toppled over, and like a basketball player that had just dropped a ball, Ty was on him and helped him to his feet, holding him up by his elbow so he wouldn’t fall.
“Whatchyu doin’, yo!” the valet shouted. He slapped away Ty’s hand and then stepped back, his hands balled into fists.
Ty flashed the badge and the gun strapped to his hip. The valet looked to me and then back to Ty. He lowered his hands.
“What you want, pig? I got work to do.”
“I thought valet’s were supposed to be friendly, Marvin?” Ty said. “You don’t seem friendly to me.”
“You can toss my shit. You won’t find nothin’ so just let me be.”
“I’m not here for you.”
Marvin was quiet a second and then said, “I ain’t got nothin’ to say to you.”
“Yeah? You sure ‘bout that?”
“I’m sure. Now I’s gotta get back to work.”
“You hear that, Officer Boyd? He’s got to get back to work. Well, Marvin, we’ll just wait.”
Ty stepped back a few feet and folded his arms as a car pulled up to get parked. Marvin was staring at us and he looked into the car and then back to us. He swallowed hard and then took the keys and wrote a little ticket with a number for the driver. He looked to us one more time and then climbed into the driver’s seat.
Ty opened the passenger door. He got in and looked to me. “Get in.”
I got into the backseat, and the valet was about to say something but stopped. He suddenly, out of nowhere, looked afraid and his lower lip began to quiver. I hadn’t seen it but I heard the click: Ty had his weapon pressed against Marvin’s crotch.
“You lie to me once I’m a blow one of your balls off. Lie to me again and I blow off the other one. Third time and little Marvin turns into sidewalk vomit. You feel me?”
“You’re a cop,” Marvin said. “You can’t do this shit. This shit ain’t right.”
“The world ain’t right, Marvin. Now, one lie, one ball. You feelin’ me or not?”
“Yeah, yeah I feel you.”
“Good. Where’s Leo?”
“I don’t know.”
Before he even got the words out, Ty’s elbow came up and bashed into Marvin’s nose. His head flew back and hit the headrest and his hands went up as blood began to trickle out of his nostrils.
“Leo?”
“You broke my—”
Another pop with the elbow, this time to the side, knocking Marvin’s head so hard into the window, it cracked into a spiderweb design.
“Leo?” Ty said calmly.
“I ain’t talked to him for a while.”
“Good, now you’re using that head a yours. Do you meet with him personally?”
“Leo don’t meet with nobody.”
“How you get your product to him?” Marvin didn’t say anything. “Oh, you forgot? Well I better jog your memory.” Ty reached up and slammed the butt of the gun into Marvin’s knee. As Marvin leaned down instinctively, Ty did it to the other knee.
“Fuck me!” Marvin was yelling out. “You motherfucka. Fuck me!”
“How you get your product to him?”
“I give it to my dawg. He takes it down. I don’t know nothin’ else. I don’t know where they meet or any a that shit. I just give it to my dawg.”
“Well I need a meet and greet with your dawg. Where is he?”
“I don’t know, man.”
“Oh, I guess you need some more encouragement,” Ty said, lifting his weapon again.
“No, man, no! It ain’t like that. I swear to you, man. He work during the day and I don’t know where. He don’t talk about it.”
“You got a cell number?”
“Yeah, it’s in my phone.”
Ty searched Marvin’s pockets and found his cell. He flipped through the contacts and showed them to Marvin who picked out a name.
“Ketwan, man. It’s Ketwan right there.”
“Your boy Ketwan gonna run or fight if I pay him a visit?”
“Shit, man. He ain’t even got no traffic tickets. He ain’t gonna run.”
Ty hit the speak button on the phone and it started dialing Ketwan’s number. “Tell him you need to meet him right away. It’s an emergency and you don’t want to discuss it over the phone.”
“Look, man. That motherfucka ain’t no punk, all right. I ain’t playin’ around with him. Y’all can take me to jail ‘cause I ain’t playin’ around with Ketwan.”
“Oh, okay. No problem. I’ll just tell him when he answers that we’re the police and you gave us his cell number because he’s a suspected dope dealer. Hold on, it’s ringin’.”
“Nah, man. Nah come on.” He was growing frustrated and the anger and helplessness of his situation came through his face as anguish. “Yo, why y’all motherfuckas doin’ this to me? I ain’t done shit to you.”
“Hello?” a rough, male voice said on the line.
“Is this Ketwan?” Ty said. “Ketwan this is—”
Marvin took the phone from him. “Yo, what up, homeboy?”
“Who dat, yo?”
“Just my boy at work, man. I ain’t off yet. Yo you gotta come meet me, though. We’s gotta talk.”
“’Bout what?”
“Nah, man, not on the phone. You feel me? Just come pick me up from work and let’s get some Mickey D’s.”
“Aight, bet.”
“Aight.”
Marvin hung up the phone and placed it in his pocket, watching Ty’s smile as he leaned back in the seat.
“You happy?” Marvin said.
“Yeah, actually I am. So happy, Marvin, that I’m not gonna search your pockets and find the baggie a weed I’m smelling. Now you can go back to work. We’ll be inside by the check-in. You see Ketwan, you start walkin’ toward him, but you wave first. Got it? You wave first. Repeat.”
“I got it, man.”
“Repeat it.”
“Wave first. I got it.”
“All right,” Ty said, opening the door and getting out of the car. I followed and we went inside to the hotel lobby. Ty folded his arms again and within seconds was motionless as a statue. Marvin glanced back at u
s a few times but after five or six minutes he was back into his work and joking around with the other valets, oblivious that two officers were watching him from inside the hotel.
I was staring at Ty when he noticed and said, “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You think I’m too rough?”
“I wouldn’t have handled it like that. But I’m not a snitch.”
“I know you’re not. Look I wasn’t gonna hurt him. He’s got some bruises but he’ll be fine in a day or two. Where’d you do your probation?”
“Golden Terrace.”
“The rich folks homes. What was the worst case you ever handled in GT?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t be shy, Baby Boy. Tell me.”
“Um, I was called out on a suspicious person in some condo units once. I saw a dude walking around the units and I went up, asked him how he was doing and what was going on, and he booked it. I drove around to the back of the condo and cut him off. When I got to him, we found two kilos of coke in a backpack that he had with a gun. He had just burglarized a condo and the condo, it turned out, belonged to his drug dealer.”
He stared at me a moment and then said, “A burglary? Let me tell you somethin’, Baby Boy, two kilos is nothing out here. We don’t even bother with that. These boys you’re gonna be meetin’ are the real shot callers. They’re not scared a cops. And they sure as hell wouldn’t be stupid enough to carry their product in a backpack. You’re gonna have to suck it up and get tough. Start dealin’ with these folks on their level. If Marvin didn’t see that I was willin’ to cross the line, he would a lawyered up and never talked. You want results, you gotta fight for ‘em.”
I didn’t say anything and we stood there in silence a long time before I said, “What’d ya think you’re gonna get from Ketwan?”
“Nothin’. I don’t care about Ketwan. I’m lookin’ for somethin’.”
“What?”
He stayed silent and I didn’t follow it up. Within a few minutes Marvin shyly took out his cell phone, turning his thigh to try to hide it from view. He played around with it a minute and pocketed it.
“That’s what I’m waitin’ for. Come on.”
We walked outside again and as soon as the doors opened, Ketwan booked it like an Olympic sprinter. He jumped over the hood of a Lexus and then dived over some bushes to the other side of the road as Ty began chasing him without a word.
I ran up the street parallel to Marvin. My plan was to outrun him on the strip and then cross the street and pin him in between me and Ty. But he was slim and wiry and ran way too fast for me. My leg began to ache at the knee and I slowed down and stopped.
But Ty was pumping his arms and had a long stride, darting in and out of crowds, pushing people aside like dolls, never taking his eyes off Marvin’s back.
They got all the way to the Bellagio before Marvin realized that Ty wasn’t giving up, and was gaining on him. Marvin turned around, out of breath, drenched in sweat, and held up his hands. Ty didn’t slow down. Marvin saw he wasn’t stopping and he lay down on his stomach, hoping Ty would show him mercy.
Instead, Ty stomped on his back and Marvin let out a groan as Ty wound up and kicked him in the stomach, Marvin curling up like an ant under a magnifying glass.
Ty sat on his back and cuffed him. He lifted him up by his neck and began walking him back to the casino. Ty wasn’t even out of breath. I came up next to them and took Marvin’s arm. We brought him just shy of the Mirage, none of us saying a word. Ty sat him down on the curb and then stood with his hands on his hips, staring down at him.
“You wanna go to jail?”
“No,” he said, still gasping for breath.
Ty took out a small baggie from his own pocket. It was white powder. He stuffed it in Marvin’s pocket and then took a small handgun from a strap on his ankle, unloaded it, and tucked it into Marvin’s waistband.
“You didn’t de-chamber it,” I said.
“Never chamber the first round. Had a partner shot that way.” He turned to Marvin. “I’m gonna uncuff you. If you run, I’m gonna shoot you. That gun and dope gives me a free pass. Got me?”
“Yeah, yeah I got you.”
“Okay, get up.”
We walked to the Mirage, Ty uncuffing him as we went back and stood in front of the casino.
“You texted him?” Ty said.
“Yeah, man,” he said, still out of breath.
“Ketwan ain’t who I’m after. I want Leo. Tell me where he is.”
He shook his head, staring at the ground. “Leo’s crazy man. He’s crazy.”
“If I find him, he’s goin’ down. You got nothin’ to be afraid of from him. But you do have somethin’ to be afraid of from me.”
Marvin thought about it a moment and then said, “Marmalade Square.”
“What apartment?”
“Fourteen C.”
“Anythin’ else I should know before I go in there, Marvin? Like he’s got a shotgun pointed at the door?”
“Nah, man. He ain’t like that.”
Ty nodded, staring at him. “You know if you’re lyin’ to me, I’ll find you.”
“I know, man. I know.”
Ty looked to me and gestured with his head that it was time to go. We walked inside the casino and over the little bridge that was over the pond. When we got far enough away, Ty said, “What kinda car you got?”
“Jeep.”
“Unmarked?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, let’s take your car. Same rules as before, Baby Boy. You pull your weapon only if you’re gonna fire.”
CHAPTER 4
We drove through the desert heat, Ty wearing his sunglasses, his head leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed. He didn’t speak and he didn’t answer his phone when it vibrated in his pocket. His hands were spread on his thighs and I glanced at his knuckles: they were large and dented. I’d seen something similar on a mixed martial arts instructor I had taken some lessons from.
We got up to Eastern Avenue and instantly the atmosphere changed. People were on corners drinking and smoking pot. They stared at us like we were from another planet, wondering what two white boys were doing out in their turf. They knew, instinctually, that we were either looking to score or were cops, so they left us alone.
At a stoplight a car full of girls pulled up next to us. I glanced at them and smiled. The one in the passenger seat lifted up her shirt to the bottom of her breasts, exposing a handgun tucked into her waistband. I was going to hold up my badge when I felt a hand on my arm.
“Leave it alone.”
“You don’t think we should initiate a stop? I think we got reasonable suspicion.”
“Everybody out here’s got a piece. We can’t bust ‘em all. I told you, Baby Boy, we only go after the big fish.”
The light turned and I kept driving. The neighborhood seemed to deteriorate more and more. One apartment complex was covered in so much graffiti you could barely see the paint underneath. It had a pool that was empty and filled with trash. Older men and women were hanging outside the windows, looking for anything that might entertain them for a few minutes. We came to another stoplight and a young black male ran out from the corner and came to the driver’s side of the Jeep.
“Whatchyu need?”
“Dime bag,” Ty said, his eyes still closed. I looked to him and then back to the man.
The man whistled and a young boy, around the age of twelve, ran out from an alley as the man walked away and back to the corner. The boy came up and said, “Ten dollars.”
Ty looked to me. “Don’t just sit there, give him his ten.”
I stared at him but he didn’t blink. I pulled out a ten from my wallet and handed it to the boy who handed me back a sack of cheap weed. The light turned and we began driving again.
“Is this for you?” I said.
“Stuff’s probably oregano sprayed with oven cleaner. If we didn’t buy, they would think we’re cops. Turn right
up here.”
We turned down a street that looked like all the others. The convenience store on the left had a little bulletproof window with a slide underneath through which people were buying beer and snacks. Behind the store was an apartment complex that looked like boxes stacked on top of each other. It was a baby blue color with brown trim. The cars were dilapidated and rusted except for a few Cadillacs and one Mercedes.
“That’s it,” he said. “Park there.”
I pulled into a stall near the front and turned the Jeep off. Ty sat up, stretched his neck from side to side, and we hopped out. I followed behind him as we walked past the first building and through a rundown, dirty playground on the other side of the complex.
“You didn’t protest buyin’ that weed,” he said.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I thought you might be arresting him after.”
He laughed. “For a dime bag? You been out with them rich folk too long.”
We found building C and walked down the flight of stairs. There were two apartments: 14 and 13. Ty stood by the side of the door and knocked. He looked to me as we waited and then back to the door. He knocked again.
“Yeah,” a voice said from inside, “who is it?”
“J.J.”
“I don’t know no J.J.”
“Marvin sent me down. I need some shit, man. He said you could help me out.”
“That punk ass bitch.” We heard locks snapping open and then a chain sliding. A slim Hispanic male stood at the door. “I told that motherfucka don’t be sendin’ no fiends over to my house—”
Ty had his firearm out and the barrel pressed into the man’s nose. The man didn’t move. He stared at the barrel and his eyes went cross-eyed. In any other situation, it might’ve actually been funny.
“Hello, Leo. You remember your boy, don’t you?”
“Hey,” he said nervously. “Ty, man, how you been?”
Ty pushed the gun into his face, forcing Leo back into the apartment. I stepped in behind them. The apartment was cluttered and dirty and a curvy Hispanic woman sat on the couch, zoning out in front of the television. Her legs were exposed and they were bruised, her lips ruby red with bright lipstick.
“Mamacita,” Leo said. “Maybe go take a walk, huh? Down to the Sev and get me a Big Gulp.”
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