Hell To Pay

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Hell To Pay Page 9

by George Pelecanos


  “Did you gentlemen like my performance?” she said, giving them a shy smile, her hand out.

  “I did,” said Strange.

  Quinn extended his hand, a twenty-dollar bill folded in it so that she could see the denomination. He pulled it back as she reached out for it.

  “C’mon back when you have a minute,” said Quinn. “My friend and I want to talk to you.”

  Eve kept her smile, but it twitched at one corner. Strange noticed her bad teeth, a common trait among hos.

  “Management says I can’t sit down with the customers,” said Eve, “’less they buy me a cocktail.”

  “Bet you like those fruity ones,” said Strange, “loaded up with all kinds of rums.”

  “Mmmm,” said Eve, licking her lips clumsily.

  “We’ll see you in a few,” said Quinn.

  The bouncer gave him one long, meaningful look before he and Eve went off to the next table full of suckers.

  “That drink’s gonna cost you, like, another seven,” said Strange.

  “I know it.”

  “Won’t even have no liquor in it.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Make sure you get a receipt. We’ll charge it to your girl Sue.”

  Eve returned after a while and pulled a chair over from another table, sliding it in between Strange and Quinn. She carried a collins glass filled with pinkish liquid and held it up by way of salute to her new friends before taking a sip. The bouncer had a seat on a stool positioned a table away and stared at Quinn. Kool and the Gang’s “Soul Vibration” played loud on the sound system. Strange watched the dancers bring it down a notch to catch the groove of the song.

  “Thanks for the drink,” said Eve. She wiped her mouth and placed the drink on the table. Her lipstick had made a kiss mark on the glass. “You two wouldn’t be police officers, would you?”

  “We’re not with the police,” said Quinn, pushing the yellow flyer he had taken from his pack across the table. He dropped the twenty on top of the flyer, careful not to cover the photograph of Jennifer Marshall. “You recognize this girl?”

  Eve’s eyes held their neutral vacancy. “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “I said no. Was I talkin’ too soft for you?”

  “I can hear you fine. I don’t believe you is what it is.”

  Eve’s smile, like a death rictus, remained upon her face. “You’re cuttin’ me deep, white boy.”

  Strange looked over at the bouncer, then around the room. He recognized one guy, an older cat with a cool-fish handshake he’d seen at church now and again. Anything went down, this cat would be no help at all.

  Quinn leaned forward. “You never seen her, like at a bus station, nothin’ like that? How about over by P Street Beach?”

  Eve’s smile faded, and with it any facade of love.

  “Ever hear of a guy named Worldwide Wilson?” said Quinn.

  Eve’s eyes were dead now, still on Quinn. She shook her head slowly.

  “You steer girls over to Wilson, Eve. Isn’t that right?”

  Eve reached for the twenty on the table. Quinn put a hand over her wrist and pushed his thumb in at her pressure point. He pressed just enough for her to feel it. But if she felt it, it didn’t show. In fact, the smile returned to her face.

  “All right, Terry,” said Strange. “Let her go.”

  The bouncer was still staring at Quinn but hadn’t moved an inch. Eve slowly pulled her hand free. Quinn let her do it.

  “You know why you still conscious?” said Eve, her voice so soft it was barely audible above the sounds in the club. “’Cause you don’t mean a motherfuckin’ thing to nobody up in here.”

  “I’m lookin’ for this girl,” said Quinn just as softly, tapping his finger on the flyer.

  “Then look to the one who gave you my name.”

  “Say it again?”

  “Do I look like I hang on P Street to you?” Eve took the twenty off the table and slipped it into the waistband of her shorts. “White boy, you got played.”

  Eve stood out of her chair, letting her eyes drift over Strange, then walked away.

  “You done?” said Strange. “Or you want another beer?”

  “I’m done,” said Quinn, looking past Strange into the room.

  “We could buy the house a round. Sing some drinking songs with all your new friends, like they do in those Irish bars-”

  “Let’s go.”

  As they moved toward the bar, Quinn’s and the bouncer’s eyes met.

  “Check you later, slim,” said the bouncer, and Quinn slowed his step. It was something you said to a girl.

  Strange tugged on Quinn’s T-shirt. At the stick, Strange settled the tab while Quinn kept his back at the bar, watching the patrons in the house, many of them now staring at him. Some were grinning. He felt the warmth of blood that had gone to his face. He wanted to fight someone. Maybe he wanted them all.

  “We’re gone,” said Strange, handing the receipt to Quinn.

  Vapor lights cast a bleached yellow on the lot outside the club. They walked the asphalt to their cars.

  “That was good,” said Strange. “Subtle, like.”

  Quinn kept looking back to the door of the club.

  “Wanna go back in, huh?”

  “Drop it.”

  “Terry, one thing you got to learn to do is, don’t take all this bullshit too personal.”

  “Guess I ought to be more detached, like you.”

  “You need to manage some of that anger you got inside you, man.”

  “Tomorrow’s Wednesday. We got practice in the evening, right Derek?”

  “Six o’clock on the dot,” said Strange.

  “I’ll see you then.”

  Quinn drove his Chevelle out of the lot while Strange killed some time, fumbling with his car radio and such. When Quinn was out of sight, Strange locked up his car and walked back into Rick’s.

  chapter 11

  “GIRL,” said Strange, “you gonna bleed me dry.”

  “House rules,” said Eve with a shrug. “You want me to sit down with you, you gotta buy me one of these drinks.”

  “Tell the truth, though. There’s no liquor in that glass, right?”

  “You know it ain’t nothin’ but sugar and juice.”

  “Figured it was some kinda hustle,” said Strange.

  They were seated at the far end of the bar, away from the sports junkies, near the service station. Eve’s bouncer was nearby, talking to one of the dancers, keeping one eye on the house, one on Eve.

  “That your man?” said Strange.

  “Yeah. You got to have one, and he’s as good as any I’ve had. Never has raised a hand to me once.”

  Eve slid a cigarette from a pack the bartender had placed before her as she took her seat. Strange struck a match and gave her a light.

  “Thank you, sugar.”

  “Ain’t no thing.”

  “Say your name again?”

  “Derek Strange.”

  She dragged on the smoke, then hit it again. Strange took a ten from his wallet and placed it on the bar between him and Eve. Eve’s head was moving to the Tower of Power coming from the house system as she slipped the ten into her shorts.

  “‘Clever Girl,’” said Strange.

  “I ain’t all that. Would I be here if I was?”

  “I’m sayin’, that’s the name of this song. Lenny Williams up front. Ain’t no question, he was the best vocalist this group had, and they had a few.”

  “Little before my time.”

  “I know, darling.” Strange leaned in close to Eve. “Let me just go ahead and ask you straight up, you don’t mind. Do you know the girl in the flyer?”

  Eve shook her head. “No.”

  “I didn’t think you did.”

  “I told your boy.”

  “But you do know this cat Worldwide.”

  “He was my pimp at one time.”

  “Was?”

  “I stopped trickin’ last
year. I can make a better living doing this right here. Plus, I got this thing at Lord and Taylor’s, up in Chevy Chase? Givin’ out perfume samples, like that.”

  “Always wondered where they found those pretty girls in places like that.”

  “Thank you,” said Eve, lowering her eyes for a moment and then fixing them again on Strange.

  “Sounds like you’re doin’ all right.”

  “I’m makin’ it.”

  “You just walked away from trickin’, huh?”

  “Worldwide specializes in those young girls. It wasn’t like I went off to another pimp. That’s something he wouldn’t let happen, understand what I’m sayin’? What it was, he couldn’t use me no more. I got old, Strange. So I clean-breaked and came on over here.”

  “You’re like, what, thirty? That ain’t old.”

  Eve tapped ash off her smoke. “I’m twenty-nine. That’s old for World.”

  “What about the one who gave Quinn your name? You know her?”

  “Oh, yeah. Had to be this little white bitch, name of Stella.”

  “She told him you steered girls over to Wilson.”

  “I ain’t never done that. It’s what she does. Can’t sell her own ass; ain’t nobody even wants that pussy for free. Trick-ass bitch hustled your boy out of his money, bringin’ him my way. I knew straight off, he mentioned P Street, it was her. ’Cause that’s her corner, right? She gets next to those young white-girl runaways and puts them up with World. She was doin’ that shit when I was with him, and she still is, I guess. Thought she could make some quick change, givin’ up my name. That’s her, all the way.”

  “Where’s Worldwide base his self?”

  “Uh-uh.” Eve took a final drag off her cigarette and crushed it dead in the ashtray. “Look, I talked too much already. And I got to get myself back to work.”

  “I need you, I can get up with you here, right?”

  “Door’s open, long as you just wanna watch me dance. Far as this goes, though, we are done. You do come back, don’t be bringin’ your Caucasian friend with you, hear?”

  “Boy’s got some anger management problems is what it is.”

  “Needs to learn some manners, too.” Eve stood and straightened her outfit. “Listen, you do run into World-”

  “I don’t know you no way. I never met you, and I don’t even know your name.”

  Eve’s eyes softened. She looked younger then, and when she moved in and rested her hand on Strange’s shoulder, it felt good.

  “Somethin’ else, too,” she said. “Don’t you even have a dream of fuckin’ with that man. This is not somethin’ you want to do.”

  “I hear you, baby.”

  Eve kissed him lightly on the cheek. “You smell kinda sweet for a man, y’know it?”

  Strange said, “Take care of yourself, all right?”

  She moved away and went through one of the doors behind the bar. Strange settled his tab and got his receipt. On his way out he stopped by the bouncer with the braided hair. He stood before him, looked him up and down, and smiled.

  “Damn, boy,” said Strange, “you got some size on you, don’t you?”

  “I go about two forty,” said the bouncer.

  “Looks like most of it’s muscle, too. Can you move?”

  “I’m quick for my size.”

  “You a D.C. boy, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Played for who?”

  “Came out of Ballou in ninety-two.”

  “The Knights. No college?”

  The bouncer spread his hands. “I ain’t had the grades.”

  “Well, all that natural talent you got, you ought to be doin’ somethin’ ’stead of standing in this bar, breathing in all this smoke.”

  “I heard that. But this here is what I got.”

  “Listen,” said Strange, “thank you for handling that situation the way you did.”

  “I don’t reach out for trouble. But I only give out one get-out-of-jail card per customer, see what I’m sayin’? You need to tell your boy, he comes back in here again, I will kick his motherfucking ass.”

  Strange put a business card into the bouncer’s left hand, shook his right. “You ever need anything, the name’s Strange.”

  Strange walked out, thinking on one of those golden rules his mother used to repeat, that one about the honey always gettin’ the flies. His mother, she was full of those corny old sayings. Him and his brother, when he was alive, used to joke about it with her all the time. She’d been gone awhile now, and more than anything, he missed hearing her voice. The longer he lived the more he realized, damn near everything she’d taught him, seemed like it was right.

  QUINN showered at his apartment on Sligo Avenue, then walked up to town, passing the bookstore on Bonifant, stopping to check the lock on the front door before he went on his way. He drank two bottles of Bud at the Quarry House, seated next to a dwarfish regular who read paperback novels, spoke rarely, but was friendly when addressed. Quinn had gotten a taste at Rick’s and knew his evening would not be done without a couple more. These days, he almost always walked into bars by himself. He hadn’t had a girlfriend since things between him and Juana, a law student and waitress up at Rosita’s on Georgia Avenue, had fallen apart over a year ago. But he still frequented the local watering holes. He liked the atmosphere of bars, and he didn’t like to drink alone.

  After his beers, Quinn walked up to Selim Avenue, trying but failing to not look in the window of Rosita’s, then crossed the pedestrian bridge spanning Georgia that led to the B &O train station alongside the Metro tracks. At this time of night the gate leading to the tunnel that ran beneath the tracks was locked, so he stayed on the east side. As he often did, he stood there on the platform, admiring the colored lights of the businesses and the pale yellow haloing the street lamps of downtown Silver Spring. A freight train approached, raising dust as it passed, and he closed his eyes to feel the stir of the wind. When the sound of the train faded he opened his eyes and went back in the direction of his place.

  He came up here to the tracks nearly every night. The platform reminded him of a western set, and he liked the solitude, and the view. A construction crew had been working on the station, probably converting it into a museum or something, a thing to be looked at but not used, another change in the name of redevelopment and gentrification. Of course, he didn’t know for sure what they were doing to the station, but recent history convinced him that it was something he would not like. In the last year Quinn’s breakfast house, the Tastee Diner, had been moved to a location off Georgia, and he rarely ate there anymore as it was out of his foot range. Also, with its new faux-deco sign out front, it now looked liked the Disney version of a diner. He wondered when the small pleasure of his nightly walk would be taken from him, too.

  BACK at his apartment, Quinn checked his messages and returned a call from Strange, who had phoned from Janine’s place. Strange told him what he had learned from Eve.

  “Sounds like you ought to go back to that girl Stella,” said Strange.

  “I will,” said Quinn. “Thanks.”

  Quinn was a little jealous that Strange had been able to get what he could not, but he was cognizant of his own limitations, and grateful that Strange had made the extra effort on his behalf.

  After hanging up with Strange, he sat on his couch, rubbing his hands together, looking around at the spartan decor of his apartment, which was no decor at all. He was high from the beers and a little reckless from the high, and he felt as if his night was not done. He dragged his knapsack over to the couch, found Stella’s phone number, and then saw Worldwide Wilson’s number on Jennifer Marshall’s sheet. He reached for his phone and dialed the number Jennifer had scribbled down.

  It was a pager number, as he knew it would be. Quinn left his home phone number, waited for the tone that told him the number had been received, and cut the line.

  He stared at the phone in his hand, looked around the room, stared at the phone some more, then d
ialed Stella’s cell. She answered on the third ring.

  “Hellooo. Officer Quinn?”

  “You psychic or something?”

  “Caller ID, duh.”

  “I ought to get one of those ‘number unknown’ things.”

  “Bet you’re too cheap to pay for the service, Quinn.”

  “It always comes back to money for you.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Why’d you do it, Stella?”

  “You musta talked to Eve.”

  “I had the pleasure.”

  “She bugged on you, huh?”

  “I guess I ought to ask you another way. Why’d you send me to her? You could’ve put me onto somebody who didn’t know anything at all.”

  “That’s true. But I wanted you to come back to me. I wanted to see how bad you wanted Jennifer, baby doll. And I can see that you do. I mean, you didn’t come looking to kick my ass or nothin’ like that. You’re callin’ me like a gentleman and you don’t sound angry. Are you angry at me, Quinn?”

  “No,” he said, but it was a lie. “Can you deliver Jennifer?”

  “I’d deliver my mother for a price. Shit, I’d give you my mother for free, everything she done to me.”

  “What’s the price?”

  “Five hundred will get you your girl.”

  “How you gonna do that, Stella?”

  “I got somethin’ of hers. Somethin’ I know she wants.”

  “You stole from her?”

  “Oh, my bad.”

  “You’re a piece of work.”

  “Always good to have a little somethin’ someone wants, information or merchandise, you know what I’m sayin’? Like I told you, it’s rough out here.”

  “What about Worldwide?”

  Quinn heard the snap of a match and the burn of a cigarette.

  “What about him?” said Stella.

  “You’re working for him. I don’t think he’d take too kindly to you setting up one of his girls to get taken off the street.”

  “Course not. Worldwide is a bad motherfucker, for real. But he ain’t never gonna know, green eyes, ’less you thinkin’ on tellin’ him. You don’t have to worry about me, ’cause I have done this before. Made some large money on it, too. Parents pay more than ex-cops, but I take whatever’s there.”

 

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