Bandits (1987) (8 page)

Once or twice I have.

Tell me something else, okay? You ever get in one of these with the girl?

Jack said, Are you serious?

I jus
'
wonder. It so nice and soft,
touching the Tawny Beige crepe again.

He said, Amelita, that
'
s a casket.

Yes, I know what it is. But I never look inside one or feel it. Like a little bed, uh?

He said, Why don
'
t we go sit down, take it easy.

She gave him a sly look over her shoulder. In your room? Yes, I think that would be nice.

He thought a moment and said, If I was the one pulled you out of the situation you were in . . .

Yes?

I
'
d seriously consider throwing you back.

She frowned. You mad at me? Why?

No, he wasn
'
t, really; but all he said was, Come on,
and turned out the lights in the casket selection room. They walked down the hall past his apartment and the prep room to Leo '
s office.

Sister Lucy
'
ll get in touch as soon as she
'
s free. If she doesn '
t, you '
ll have to sleep on that.
He nodded toward a cracked and creased leather sofa that was old as Mullen & Sons.

Amelita sat down in it, saying, Why do you call her that?

Jack said, What?
looking at the mess on Leo
'
s desk, letters and invoices, blank First Call Records lying by the phone. No new business.

I say why do you call her Sister Lucy? She
'
s not a sister no more. She jus
'
Lucy. Or Lucy Nichols, if you want to say all her name.

Jack looked up, stared at the girl sitting in the middle of Leo
'
s worn-out sofa. He took a moment.

What
'
re you talking about, she
'
s not a sister? That '
s what I called her . . .
He took another moment to think about it. I '
m sure I did, and she didn '
t say she wasn '
t.

Maybe she so use to it.

All the guys at the mission when I picked her up, they called her sister. I can hear
'
em. And Leo, the guy I work for . . .
Jack paused, not sure if he could count Leo. Leo might '
ve assumed she was a nun, because she '
d been at a mission in Nicaragua.

Amelita said, I don
'
t know who you talking about, but I know she isn
'
t a sister. She quit being one. You think if she was a sister you see her dress like that, with those Calvin Kleins? I '
m going to buy a pair when I go to L
. A .

I wondered about that.

Sure, soon as I go there.

How do you know? Did she tell you?

When we lef
'
Nicaragua in the car. She say to me, I
'
m not going to be a sister no more. I can '
t do it.

She said that?

I jus
'
tole you she say it.

I mean, are you sure?

Amelita shrugged. Ask her, you don
'
t believe me.
Her gaze roamed over the office, to Leo '
s mortuary science license framed on the wall, before returning to Jack, standing by the desk. She was nice when she was a sister. She was the nicest one at Sagrada Familia.

Don
'
t you think she
'
s nice now?

Yes, but she
'
s different. I think something is happening to her.

When she called she said, Jack? It
'
s Lucy.
He waited and she said, Jack?

How was dinner?

I
'
d like to tell you about it.

Boiled shrimp and beer?

I may never see my dad again. How
'
s Amelita?

She
'
s okay. What happened?

I really would like to talk to you.
It was her voice, but it was different, strained; she was keeping it in control. If you could bring Amelita here. . . . I '
m at home, my mother '
s house, 101 Audubon, on the uptown side of the park.

I know where it is. Are you alone?

The housekeeper
'
s here, Dolores. . . . If you could come as soon as you can. . . . But not in the hearse. Just in case . . .

He said, No, I have a car.
He waited a moment and said, for the first time, Lucy?

What?

We
'
ll be right over.

Chapter
6

SHE BROUGHT HIM THROUGH a hall of dim portraits and framed pictures of Carnival balls, past sitting and dining rooms that were dark, formal, to a sun parlor that was startling, the atmosphere suddenly tropical as he looked at walls papered in a blaze of green-and-gold banana trees. Lamplight reflected on giant green fronds, on green-cushioned wicker, a ceiling fan, baskets of fern, a bar with bottles displayed against tinted glass. On the wicker coffee table was a glass of sherry. She was quiet, polite, wearing a white shirt now with tan slacks and sandals. She asked him if he '
d help himself to a drink, then asked if he was sure he wasn '
t hungry as he poured vodka over ice Dolores was fixing something for Amelita and it would be no trouble. He shook his head. She said Dolores had been to church. She said Dolores had been attending the African Baptist Church on Esplanade as long as she could remember. She said Dolores used to teach her hymns and it disturbed her mother to hear Protestant songs in the house. Jack took a sip of the drink and looked at her and said, You '
re not a sister anymore.

She said, No, I
'
m not.

I called you Sister.

Once or twice.

You sound different.

She seemed to smile.

I mean since this afternoon.

She was looking at his drink and said, Let me try that.
He handed her the glass. She took a sip of the vodka and looked at him with that round lower lip pouting as she swallowed, then shook her head. I still don '
t like it.

You
'
re trying different things again?

She said, The day I got back to New Orleans I called my mother for the name of a hairdresser. I
'
d made up my mind, after thinking about it for at least a year, I was going to get a perm. Curl my hair and change my image. I felt I needed to pick myself up. So I made the appointment. . . . It wasn '
t until I was in the chair, looking at myself in the mirror, I realized that a perm wasn '
t going to do it.

Do what?

I mean it wasn
'
t necessary. I
'
d already changed. You said I sound different. I am, I '
m not the same person I was a year ago or this afternoon, or the same person right now that I '
m going to be.

She was close enough to touch; not as tall as earlier today, in the heels. He said, I think you made the right decision. That
'
s the way your hair should be, natural.
He thought a moment and said, The day I got home from Angola, the first thing I was gonna do was get dressed up and head for the bar at the Roosevelt, like I '
d never been away. But I didn '
t. My parole came up the same time as a friend of mine, guy named Roy Hicks.
Jack felt himself start to smile. Roy had a way of looking at you, with this cold stare, not putting much into it at all, but it was like he was asking if you wanted to die. He wasn '
t that big, either.

Lucy had started to smile because he did, but now the smile left her eyes. I thought you said you were friends.

We were. Roy taught me how to jail. No, he didn
'
t give me the look, it was for guys who came onto him or got out of line. . . . You know what I '
m talking about?

I think so.

He started to smile again, knowing what he was going to tell, and saw Lucy ready to smile, he was pretty sure. It encouraged him, made it all right to show off a little, slip into a role with her that was comfortable, natural; the feeling he could tell her anything he wanted.

We get to New Orleans, Roy says he has some business to tend to and wants me to come along. We take a cab over to the projects, you know, off Rampart? We go up to a door, Roy bangs on it with his fist. . . . I forgot to mention, Roy Hicks was a New Orleans cop at one time, but that '
s another story.

What was he doing in prison?

That
'
s what I mean it
'
s another story; but a good one. We '
re in the projects, this black guy opens the door I think I recognize. He doesn '
t invite us in, but he knows us and we go in, and I see three more black guys sitting there. The place, I find out later, is a dope house. I '
m thinking, what am I doing here, as Roy says to the black guy that runs it, '
yShake hands, dude.
'
But the guy doesn '
t want to. By then I realize I know the guy; he was at Angola and got his release about six months before us. He ran a still while he was inside, made home brew out of fruit cocktail, rice, raisins, whatever he could find. It was terrible stuff. He '
d sell it and give Roy a cut, something like half, '
cause Roy had given him permission to make it.
He saw Lucy frown and said, Roy ran the dormitory we were in, Big Stripe, medium security.
He didn '
t know what else to tell her. It '
s the way it is, part of the convict social structure. . . . Anyway, Roy goes, '
yShake hands, dude.
'
Says it a couple more times and finally the guy sticks his hand out. Roy grabs it, gets an armlock on him, pulls a gun out of the guy '
s pants, a P.38, with the three guys sitting there watching. Roy tells the guy he '
s got in the armlock he left owing Roy money, and with accumulated interest the amount was now two thousand dollars. The guy told Roy he was crazy, couldn '
t he see they were outside now? That kind a deal was over with. Roy goes, '
yIt ain '
t over till I say it is. Pay up, dude, '
never raising his voice or threatening the guy, and the guy finally gave him the money.

Lucy was staring at him. Amazing.

You understand, the guy might
'
ve owed him a few bucks, but this was a shakedown. Or with the gun you could even say it was a thinly disguised stickup. We get in the cab I ask Roy if he '
s flipped out. He goes, '
yIt '
s like you fall off a bike you have to get right back on it again.
'
I said to him, '
yYeah, we took a fall, but I don '
t see ripping off a dope house the same as getting back into what we were doing.
'
Meaning neither of us, strictly speaking, had ever been into armed robbery. Roy goes, '
yWhat difference is it what statute you break, B and E or going in with a gun? You think you '
re ever gonna live like a civilian?
'
I told him I had every intention of trying. He goes, '
yWell, here '
s a start.
'
Counts out half the money, a thousand bucks, and hands it to me.

She said it again. Amazing.

I was thinking, that kind of scene is enough to curl your hair, if you don
'
t want to pay to get a perm.

Lucy
'
s eyes raised. It looks fairly straight now.

Yeah, well, that
'
s from working in a funeral home, seeing unexpected sights that get it to stand on end.

What
'
s your friend Roy doing?

He
'
s a bartender. Works in the Quarter.

She took his glass and poured another vodka before looking up at him again. Let
'
s sit down. I want to tell you something.

When my dad put up his new office building in Lafayette, he told me this at dinner, it was going to cost just over three million dollars. But they '
d have to remove a live oak that was about a hundred and fifty years old. So my dad had the plans changed. He built his office at right angles, sort of around the tree, and it cost him another half million. . . . What do you think that says about him?

It was quiet in the room. Jack could feel the vodka, a good feeling in soft lamplight. He liked the fit of the deep-cushioned wicker chair; he could fall asleep here. Lucy waited, not far away, on the end of the sofa close to his chair, legs crossed. She leaned forward now to reach her sherry. He thought of ways to answer, moved only his arm, slowly, to raise the glass, and gazed at banana trees before taking a sip.

He loves nature.

Is that why he
'
s contaminating the Gulf?

I thought he leased helicopters.

He
'
s in the oil business. He
'
s been in the oil business all his life. My mother calls him Texas Crude. Men in her family wore white linen suits and owned sugar plantations in Plaquemines.

I
'
m not good at environment,
Jack said. He could fall asleep by closing his eyes. Or, what '
s that other word, ecology. I '
m weak in those areas.

You see my dad as a nice guy.

I think he works at it some. Wants to give you that impression, one of the boys.

She said, Then you know he
'
s not just good old Dick Nichols, he
'
s Dick Nichols Enterprises. He sings Cajun songs, eats squirrel and alligator tail, but he '
s also been to the White House for dinner, twice. He loves nature as long as he and his pals can suck oil out of it and he doesn '
t give a damn about that tree. He '
s using it. He '
s the guy at the Petroleum Club with the live oak that cost him a half million dollars. Not a yacht or a plane, they all have those, including my dad. No, this is a tree.

Jack said, Well, it
'
s nice to be rich.

Buy anything you want,
Lucy said. My dad came to visit me in Nicaragua, seven years ago. An embassy limousine arrives, a long black Cadillac, and my dad steps out, the last person I ever expected to see. Except that he loves to surprise you and act very nonchalant about it.
'
yHi, Sis, how are you? Nice day, isn '
t it?
'
He knows he '
s obvious, so it '
s funny. I showed him around and he seemed interested enough, he was cordial. But he '
d pretend not to see the lepers, the ones who were crippled or disfigured.

Wouldn
'
t shake hands with
'
em.

Not even with the staff. He kept his hands behind his back. He said,
'
ySis, this place is awful. What do you need?
'
I said, '
yHow about giving the patients a ride in your car?
'
I told him it would be an experience they '
d never forget. He gave me a check for a hundred thousand dollars instead.

Jack took a sip of his drink, wondering if her dad had kissed her when he arrived. He could understand her dad not being a toucher. How many people were? He said, I know what you '
re getting at.

She said, No, you don
'
t.

It
'
s easier to give to
'
em than go near '
em.

She said, Jack,
not reacting, but with her quiet manner, knowing what she was going to say, last week he wrote another check, this one for sixty-five thousand.

For the hospital?

For the man who destroyed the hospital, the man who burned it to the ground and hacked ten of the patients to death. I was there, Jack. I saw them drive up in a truck. . . . The men got out and began firing, all of them with automatic weapons. They shot our dogs, they shot out the windows of the hospital. . . . I came out of the sisters '
house and heard him yelling at them and thought he was trying to stop the firing. He was, he was yelling at them in Spanish, '
yWith machetes! Do it with machetes!
'
Some of the patients ran or were able to hide. I brought a few of them into our house. But the ones in the ward, who couldn '
t run, were hacked to death in their beds, screaming. . . . You know who I '
m talking about, Dagoberto Godoy and his contras. When he came to kill Amelita and didn '
t find her.
She paused and said, I had never laid eyes on him before that day, and now I '
ll never forget him.
She paused again and said, Excuse me, getting up now. I '
ll say good night to Amelita and fix you something to eat, if you '
re hungry.

She came back with a pack of Kools, tapping one out. Jack picked up the silver table lighter and held it to her cigarette. He watched her sit back blowing a slow stream of smoke, relaxing in the green cushions of the sofa, and he said, You mind?
Picking up the pack of cigarettes and getting one for himself. He '
d have one, and inhaled for the first time in nearly three years, telling her he still wasn '
t hungry, not the least bit. He was keyed up and told her he was a little confused, trying to get all of it straight in his mind. He said it seemed like whenever she told him something else he '
d have more questions and not know where to start.