Parishioner (21 page)

Back at home he turned the cell phone back on. There were four messages.

“Hey, Ecks,” Winter said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I took her to a hotel on Vine not too far from Hollywood Boulevard. It’s called the Regency Arms. Kind of run-down but not a dive or nuthin’. I charged her the company rate, thirty dollars, and she asked me if I had change for a hundred. I did and she gave me a dollar tip. A dollar tip. Can you believe that? Anyway, the only other thing was she got on her phone and called somebody. She said that she didn’t have anything for them yet but she was sure to know something in a few days.”

“Yo, Brother Ecks, Charlie Mothers here. Frank said that you need something and I got it. But you know I don’t trust the body electric as far as I can throw it. So come on down to the marina and we’ll talk.”

“It’s me,” the cop Soto said on the third message. “I took myself off the case for obvious reasons. You must know that by now. But I still got a finger in the pie. If you need me or I can do anything I guess that’s okay. I talked to Frank after we met at the church and he set me straight about what you’re up to. Sorry if I got carried away there. You know I’m trying to be here now like we always talk about. Sometimes I guess I get a little crazy.”

“Hi,” Benicia Torres said. “Um, I, I thought I might get you. I hope it isn’t too late. I had a really nice time and I wanted you to know that you should call. I want you to answer my question. Anyway … good-bye.”

There were two lovers walking down the alley, arm in arm. He stopped to kiss her. She wanted to keep moving but lingered long enough to keep his interest piqued. Then she pulled his encircling arm making him stagger on.

Xavier Rule watched them amble off. They were too far away for him even to know what race they were. All he knew was that there were two of them just like there were two of him sitting at that table.

He slept until eight in the morning, luxuriously late for the newspaper delivery profession. The sun didn’t actually shine in his window but there was a powerful solar radiance emanating through the glass from the urban desert outside.

Xavier felt the new man inside him surge up through his body. This made him smile.

While urinating he heard the Monk tune play on his cell phone. The fragment ended before he was through.

When he was finished he washed his hands in the sink, toweled them off, and then picked
up the phone. He called the number that had called him.

There was a double-clicking sound and then, “That you, Ecks?”

“Yes, sir,” he said to George Ben, the hardware man.

“She left last night while I was asleep.”

“What time?”

“I don’t know exactly. I took her to the Pasta Place at seven and we talked and talked like BFFs. She told me all about the men her aunt made her whore for. I thought we were making a connection but then I started getting tired. I think the little minx might have drugged me. We walked home. I was leaning against her shoulder. I don’t remember anything after that. I don’t even know how I got into the bed. I must have really been out of it.”

“She take anything?”

“Not that I can tell. But you know I can hardly get up. I’m just calling to let you know.”

“Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“No, no. I don’t need a doctor. I know the symptoms. They’ll pass in thirty-six hours. I figure you got to pay your dues sometimes.”

“I hear that, Mr. Ben. I hear that.”

There were many paths set out in front of Xavier Rule that morning: Benol at her hotel and Charlie Mothers on his yacht, the murderer of Brayton Starmon. And then there was the new man inside him: the man who felt unsure, who thought about life in a different way and had feelings about his actions, inactions, and the things that he thought.

The day was clear and Benicia’s kiss still a physical sensation on Ecks’s lips.

Xavier was smiling and disturbed, glad to be alive and afraid that his happiness might shorten the life he was just beginning to enjoy.

He picked up the cell phone and entered a number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Winter. What’s up, man?”

“Ecks. What time is it?”

“Not eight thirty yet.”

“Wow. Hey. I’m just wakin’ up, brother. What can I do you for?”

“Breakfast at the IHOP on Olympic in half an hour?”

“Add fifteen minutes to that and I’ll be there.”

Winter ordered chocolate-chip pancakes with caramel syrup and hot chocolate. Xavier asked for steak and eggs.

“How you doin’, Win?” Ecks asked when the waitress went off to give their order to the cooks.

“Every time the phone rings or there’s a sound anywhere near my door I start shakin’. I been eatin’ antacids like they was my mom’s famous pralines.”

“Sorry I brought you into it, man.”

“No need to be sorry, Ecks. No need. Because, you know, when everything is quiet and I’m not worried I realize over and over that this is what I always wanted.”

“What is?”

“I’m supposed to be livin’,” the chauffeur said, “not just drivin’ a car and payin’ the bills, hopin’ that some young girl will wanna take off her clothes with me. The things we do got to be important. I mean, standin’ on line and waitin’ your turn ain’t a life. Shit. You opened a door for me, man. And even though I’m scared one outta every three minutes, the rest of the time I feel like a man.”

When Winter nodded his entire torso bobbed. Ecks smiled at his friend.

“What?” Winter asked.

“I don’t know, Win. I been in houses like the one I took you to a hundred times. That’s the line I been standin’ on. I mugged my first crack dealer when I was twelve years old—busted that motherfucker’s head open like it was a pumpkin. I did terrible things, brother, and I never followed rule one.”

Winter sat back on his side of the red plastic booth, and the sixty-something waitress put their plates down in front of them.

“That shit is fucked-up, Ecks. I hear that. But you know, in a way you were doin’ all you could.”

“Maybe,” the dark gangster admitted. “But what I’m sayin’ is that it’s not manhood if there’s no man there.”

“I don’t get you.”

“I just do things, Win. Knife some dude get me mad, fuck a woman in her husband’s bed and then dare him to say somethin’ to me. But when I did shit like that I was an animal, not a man. It wasn’t brave. No, it wasn’t brave; I just couldn’t do anything else. I wasn’t a man, because I wasn’t standin’ up for nuthin’.”

Winter squinted and stared at his friend. He took a bite of the sweet meal and shifted his head for a better look, not at what Ecks was saying, but at what he meant. He wanted to speak but could not find the words.

“It’s like this, Win,” Ecks said to ease this tension of silence. “When I’m scared I run. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t get scared too often. But I don’t think about my manhood when something big and scary shows up. You, on the other hand, see somethin’ scare you half to death and face it. And when it’s ovah and you might go to jail, you stand up and try to do what you think is right, even if what’s right might be dangerous.”

“So I’m the man?” Winter asked.

“Hallelujah.”