Blue Belle (15 page)

62

"ANYTHING YOU want to bet in the next race?" I asked her, keeping my voice as neutral as possible under the circumstances.

"No, honey. I don't want to bet anymore. Let's just watch, okay?"

"I'll be right back," I said.

I cashed in the ticket. "Nice hit," the teller congratulated me. The money made a sweet roll.

I sat down next to Belle. "Now,
listen
—I have to go and see someone. On the other side of the track. You stay here. Don't get out of your seat. Okay?"

"Yes."

"The next race is going to start soon. I'll get up like I'm making a bet. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Okay."

"Now, listen, Belle. And don't tell me anything. If I'm not back by the end of the seventh race, you get up and leave." I pressed the car keys into her hand. "Drive to your house. Call the number you called me at the first time. Ask for Mama. Tell her I met with a man named Lupe. Tell her everything you know."

"When will you be back?"

"I don't know. I'm going down a tunnel. If you don't hear from me in a couple of days, call Mama again. She'll tell you what to do."

"Burke…"

I held her face in my hand, grabbing her eyes. "You want to be my woman?"

She nodded.

"This is part of what it costs," I told her.

I didn't look back.

63

I WENT to the betting windows, put down ten to win on the six horse, slipped the ticket into my pocket. I hadn't looked at the program. I made my way through the track until I was past the finish line. Then I went downstairs, paid an extra buck, and went into the Clubhouse area. I stayed outside, climbing into the dark grandstand at the end, working my way to the top row.

I spotted Lupe in a couple of minutes, sitting by himself in the far corner, wearing a neon–green jacket with some writing on the back. I moved down until I was across from him, making sure. The Prof's description was right on the money.

I lit a smoke, stuck it in my mouth, and moved over to him, both hands in front of me.

"Lupe?"

"Who wants to know, man?"

"Name's Burke," I said, sitting down.

He grinned, showing me his lousy teeth. "I know you, man. I heard of you. You got that monster dog, right? You want to put her in the ring?"

"Only if you get in there with her," I said, keeping my voice even.

"I got no beef with you," he said quickly.

"I got no beef with you either. I heard you were the man to see about a match, that's all."

"What you got?"

"I got nothing. I want to get down on some action."

"You know Van Cortlandt Park?"

"I don't mean dogs, pal. Or roosters either."

"So?"

"I heard this guy Mortay—he's been doing some duels. Heavy action."

"
Mucho
action, man. But this motherfucker Mortay—he only had that one match."

"With the Jap?"

"Yeah! You saw it?"

"No, just heard about it."

His eyes glittered, crazy–cold eyes. "You got someone wants to meet Mortay, man?"

"Yeah. Me."

Lupe laughed. "With what, man? A machine gun?"

"I don't want to fight him—just have a talk. I figured you could set it up."

"No, man," he said, sadness in his voice. "I don't find him—he finds me. He's got this guy, Ramón. He's the one who makes the meets."

"How'd he find the Jap?"

"The Jap found
him
, man. Guy rolls in from the Coast, puts the word out. I hear this Mortay totaled his brother out there. He was looking for payback."

"Didn't have much luck, did he?"

"Man, Mortay don't take prisoners. He earned his name. Mortay, man. You get it?
Muerte
. Death. He deals death, man. Eats it alive."

"You don't know where to find him?"

"Man, I don't
want
to know where to find him."

"Yeah. Okay. This Ramón comes around, you tell him I'd like to meet Mortay. Public place, no problems. Just want to talk to him for a minute."

Lupe shrugged. "He comes, I ask him, man. Where you gonna be?"

"Just give him my name. I'm in the phone book," I told him, walking off.

64

I WAS back next to Belle before the start of the fifth race.

"Not so bad, huh?" I asked her.

"I waited here, just like you said."

"Good girl."

"But if you hadn't come back, I was going looking."

"That's not what I told you to do."

"I wasn't going to make trouble. Just poke around."

"Yeah, you got a great disguise all right. Nobody'd remember seeing you."

"Burke, I love you. I had to…"

"You had to listen. Like I told you to. Like you promised. Stupid bitch."

"Honey!"

"You don't want to listen, you can walk. We made a deal."

"I'm sorry, baby. I am. I just…"

"Just. Fucking. Nothing. I'm not going to tell you again."

She leaned into me, her hand near the inside of my thigh, whispering. "You want to take me home, beat my ass, teach me a lesson?"

"I thought you said no man ever hit you."

"It'd be worth it," she whispered. "You know why?"

"Why, dopey?"

"You'd have to be there to do it," she said.

I stood up, held out my hand. She took it, meek as a lamb, a little smile on her face.

65

I DROVE the Plymouth on the way back. Belle was quiet. "You mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you—I'm not
going
to be mad at you. That's not the way I work. You want to be with me, I have to trust you. That's all there is."

I turned to look at her. A tear rolled down her cheek, tracking through the makeup.

"Okay?" I asked her.

"I swear," she promised, lying down on the front seat, curling up next to my leg. She didn't say another word all the way back to her house.

66

WHEN I pulled in behind the red Camaro, Belle was still lying across the front seat, her head against my leg. She put her hand on my thigh, grabbed hard enough to hurt.

"You have to come in with me."

"Pretty bossy, aren't you?"

She looked up at me, her face wet, the lovely makeup ruined.

"Just come inside, honey. Come inside—you can be all the boss you want to be, but don't go away now."

I opened my door, got out. Walked around to her side of the car to let her out. I held my hand out to her. "Come on," I told her.

She piled out of the Plymouth faster than I thought she could move.

67

"DON'T TURN on the lights," she said, pushing me to the couch. She patted my pockets, found cigarettes and matches. Lit one for each of us. The little flame shot highlights into her hair.

"I don't know what to do," she said, sounding lost.

"About what?"

"I want to wash my face. Take these tears off. But if I do, the makeup won't stay."

"Wash your face."

"But you liked the way I looked. You
said
so."

"I like the way you look in those pants too—does that mean you'll never take them off while I'm around?"

"It's not the same thing," she sniffled.

"Yeah, it is," I told her. "Exactly the same thing. Underneath whatever you put on there's still you."

"But…"

"But what?"

"That's not the way it is, honey. All my life… it's been the same thing. I have to take off my clothes to make a man forget my face."

I held her against me, her face pressed into my chest, talking softly into her ear.

"Listen to me, Belle. You said you'd listen to me, yes?"

Her head nodded against me.

"
You're
the one who doesn't like your face. Because you don't understand it's your
own
face. I know whose face it is, okay?"

She nodded against me again.

"Go take off the makeup," I said, patting her gently.

While she was in the bathroom, I called the Prof. His voice sounded much stronger.

"I'm on the line with plenty of time."

"It's me."

"Back from the track?"

"Yeah. I spoke to the man."

"So we got a plan?"

"No. Not yet. I want to see the guy you talked with. Square the beef. Drop the case. Walk away."

"He's got to pay, but not today?"

"Right. And we don't want anyone else in the game—just you and me."

"He's not going to stop till he gets to the top."

"I'm not sure that's right, Prof. I think this dueling shit isn't the real story—he was riding shotgun on this other thing, and you stumbled into the line of fire."

"Could be, man. But…"

"No names, we'll talk later. I'll come and see you. On the first shift, okay?"

"I can't run, son."

I hung up.

68

BELLE CAME out of the bathroom wearing a black bra over the striped pants, a doubtful look on her freshly scrubbed face. She lit another of her fat black candles, propping it on the sink.

"I'm ugly again," she said.

I gave her a hard look but she didn't flinch. "I looked for myself," she said, her voice sad.

I took a drag of my cigarette. "You want me to fix it?"

"How? Put a bag over my head?"

"Come here," I said, keeping my voice even.

She walked over to the couch.

"Take off those pants."

She reached back to unhook her bra. "Just the pants," I told her.

She stepped out of her spike heels. Even with the zipper all the way down, getting the pants off was a struggle. She stood there in her bra and panties, hands on her hips. "You want these off too?" she asked, her thumbs hooked in the waistband.

"Yeah."

She did, watching me every second. "Now what?"

"Come with me," I said, taking her hand. I led her back to the bathroom, posing her in front of the sink. The candle's flickering glow carried through the open door.

"Lean forward," I told her, my hand on her shoulder. "Look into the mirror."

"I still think…"

"Shut up. Just do what I tell you, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'm going to ask you some questions," I said, sliding my hand down to her waist. "Soon as you get the right answer, I'll stop. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Look in the mirror—tell me what you see."

"An ugly old girl."

I slid my hand to her butt, took a plump cheek in my right hand, gave her a hard, sharp pinch.

"Ow!" she yelped.

"Wrong answer," I told her. "What do you see now?"

"The same thing," she snapped, her voice set and stubborn.

I pinched her harder.

She yelped again. "Take another look," I told her. She tried to rub herself—I slapped her hand away.

"I don't care if you pinch it right off, I'm not…Burke!" she squealed as I pinched her again. My hand was getting tired.

"I see a beautiful young girl," I whispered to her. "You sure I'm wrong?"

Tears rolled down her face. "You mean it? You swear you mean it?"

I squeezed her butt, gently this time. "I've got all night," I promised her.

"This isn't fair," she said, a smile peeking out from beneath the pout.

"Tell me what you see," I said, still holding her in the same place, tightening my hand. "Last chance."

"I see a beautiful young girl," she said. Like a robot.

I pinched the sweet flesh hard. She tried to push past me but I blocked her way.

"Okay!"

I stroked her butt gently. "Tell me."

"I see a beautiful young girl."

"Me too," I said, kissing her.

She came into my arms, baby–soft. I kissed her for a long time. "I'm going to be black and blue," she said against my chest.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not," she said, pulling me toward the bed. "It's a lot better than being just blue."

69

SOMETHING FLICKED at my brain just before l drifted off to sleep. Something about a letter. I made a grab for it, but I went under before I could pull it close.

When I came around, it was still dark. Belle was lying crossways on the bed, her breasts flattened against my chest, her face buried in the pillow next to mine. She was awake too—I could tell from her breathing.

"What, baby?" I asked her.

She turned her head, propping herself on an elbow. "Baby …I'll never have a baby."

"Sure you will. Someday."

"No, I won't. I fixed it. I had a real ugly harelip—you know what that is?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I had a bad one. Pulled up so bad you could see my teeth all the time. I saved some money—went to a plastic surgeon. You know what, Burke? He told me he could fix the whole thing, give me a different face. A real nose instead of this little pig's snout, cheekbones, anything I wanted."

"So what happened?"

"I started on it. He did the harelip first. Did it real good too. But then I went on a job with a couple of boys. It got nasty right in the middle—the wheels came off and we had to fly. We got away, but one of the boys got himself shot up pretty bad. There's this old doctor, back in the hills. We went by his place, stayed there for damn near a month. Cost us every dime we had between us, but he pulled Rodney through."

She fumbled around the night table, looking for a cigarette. Her body gleamed in the flame from the match.

"This old doctor—he was an outlaw. Like us. I don't even know if he was a real doctor and all, but he had good hands. I was pregnant—maybe two, three months gone. I found out while we were holed up. I was just a big dumb old girl—never figured on getting pregnant. When the doc told me, I told him to go and get the baby. Take it.

"He wanted to know was I sure. So I told him. I told him the truth. He said I was right—I was doing the right thing. He said he saw a lot of babies like I was gonna have—said they never did too well. Trying to make it gentle for me, but I knew what he meant."

She took a deep drag off her cigarette.

"He said he could fix me up inside when he went to get the baby. Tie my tubes. I didn't have to think a minute."

Her voice was soft in the night. "I could love a baby—I know I could. But I figured, if I loved a baby, I'd never have one. You understand?"

"Yeah."

"How come you never worried about it?"

"About what?"

"Making me pregnant."

I laughed. "I can't make babies, Belle."

"You tried? With that woman…"

"No. I never tried. Never thought about it when I was young. Spent most of my time in places where you couldn't make a baby anyway. I got jumped once. Long time ago. It wasn't a personal thing—I was in the wrong place. Or maybe I was just the wrong color. Doesn't much matter. Anyway, they really did a number on me. When the ambulance dropped me at the hospital, the pain was so bad…there's no way for me to describe it to you."

"What'd they do?"

"Broke some ribs. Fractured my jaw. But the real hurt…they kicked me in the balls so many times I thought they were going to fall off. The doctor said it was a testicular torsion."

"A what?"

"A torsion… like a twist." I held my two fists together in front of her face, twisted one sideways. "Like that."

"Ugh!"

"Yeah. I looked down at myself—the whole sac was black. Before they put me out, the doctor said the blood supply was pinched off—they'd have to cut me open and stitch a new wall inside to hold the balls in place."

"God!"

"I remember telling them, could they do a vasectomy while they were at it….The doctor thought it was funny—like, as long as they were in the neighborhood and all. But they did it. No babies from me either."

"Does that hurt you?"

"No. It's not for me. I don't think about it. But I never told anyone before."

Belle kissed me. "You can tell me anything," she said.

I reached past her. Lit a smoke for myself. My watch said it was past four in the morning.

"Go back to sleep," I said, rubbing her back, pushing against her shoulder.

"I have to sleep on my stomach," she said, a smile playing around her lips.

"You're breaking my heart—I didn't pinch you that hard."

"You
did!
"

"Give it a rest, Belle. I'd need a set of vise grips to do a job on all this," I said, patting her butt.

"I looked in the mirror. While you were asleep. You made a big mark."

"It'll be gone soon."

"I know," she whispered. "That's why I'm sleeping on my stomach. I want to see it again before it goes away."

She put her face in my chest. I felt the tears.

"What?"

"It'll fade away. You will too."

"I'm right here."

"For now."

I took a last long pull on the cigarette, tangling my hand in the hair at the back of her neck.

"It's like you said before, Belle. We're outlaws. Tomorrow's for citizens. For us, it's always now."

"I love you," she mumbled into my chest.

"Go to sleep, little girl," I told her, holding her, kissing her hair.

Waiting for daylight.