SK01 - Waist Deep (15 page)

Rolo nodded like he already knew that.
“And you sure we ain’t never met before?”

“Positive.”

“Because you look familiar to my eyes.
Maybe it was a long time ago.
Back when you were five-oh, maybe?”

I shook my head.
“Like I said, I’d remember you.”

Rolo snorted.
“All those niggers you were busy hassling?
You could forget just one.
Maybe it slipped your mind, because all us niggers look the same.”

“No,” I said, wondering where this was going but not liking it.
“Like you said before, you’re pretty unforgettable.”

Rolo broke into a smile, but it was insincere.
“So I did.
I did say that.
Yes, I did.”

He leaned back and gave a wave toward the bar. The old man who’d come in a few moments ago sauntered over. He held his hat in his hands in front of him.

Rolo jerked a thumb in the man’s direction. “This here is George. Say hi to George, white boy.”

I nodded to the old man.

Rolo gave a
nother
small wave and a moment later, two more black guys appeared at the table.
The larger of the two was even bigger than Rolo and he remained standing, his arms crossed like a bouncer.
The other, only slightly larger than me, slid into the booth next to me, forcing me to scoot over.
He grinned at me, revealing gold inlay on two of his upper front teeth.

“You like my grill?” he said, false friendliness dripping from every word.
He draped his arm along the back of the booth.

“If it works for you,” I said, turning my gaze back to Rolo.
He had the same friendly mask on his face.
He glanced at the man next to me.
“He strapped?”

Grill ran his hands roughly down my sides and around my waist, jostling me in my seat. “Not unless it’s in his boots.”

Rolo nodded, and turned back to me. “I can’t decide if you’re stupid enough to come in here strapped or stupid enough not to.”

“I didn’t figure this was a discussion I needed a gun for,” I said.

“
No shit?” He motioned toward the old man. “
How old do you figure George is?”

I shrugged. “Sixty.”

Rolo chuckled.
“Sheee-it. Motherfucker is almost eighty. You believe that?” He shook his head. “Eighty
. Spent his whole life right here in your All-American city. And you know what that makes him?”

“A patriot?” I asked.

Rolo snorted and shook his head. “No. It makes him better than the motherfuckin’ Internet, that’s what.” He looked at George. “Whatch you
think
, my man?” he asked, motioning toward me.
“Was a cop, maybe ten years ago.”

George turned his bleary eyes to my face. He looked at me, blinking and thinking.

I felt sweat begin to trickle down the sides
of my body
.
On the jukebox, t
he final strains of a horn solo ended and the piano took over again.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour but couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds, George leaned down and wh
ispered something in Rolo’s ear
.

Rolo nodded
slowly, looking at me while he listened
.
When the old man finished, he smiled.
“Go ahead and get whatever you want, George.
On me.
”

The old man nodded his thanks and shuffled toward the bar.

Rolo turned back to me.
“You know, you’re right about some
thing.
We never met before.
That is true as a motherfucker.
But,” he tapped his temple, “I knew I recognized you from somewhere.
I just couldn’t remember exactly where.”

And now he has.

Shit.

“You’re pretty good, white boy,” Rolo said.
“You had me going.
You got what you wanted, fair and square.”

“Then we’re done,” I said, shifting in my seat.

Grill’s hand shot down and grabbed the nape of my neck.
“You done when the man say you done, bitch,” he growled at me.

Rolo’s expression didn’t change.
“No, we a
i
n’t quite finished.
See, you got your end of the deal.
I don’t know where Star is now, but I told you where she went.
I kept my end of the bargain.
But where’s your end?”

“We discussed that,” I said.
Adrenalin
e coursed
through my body and my heart was racing.
Meanwhile, Grill’s finger’s bit into my neck, full of wiry strength.

“Yes, we did,” Rolo said, “But you, motherfucker, are in breach of contract.
You know what that means?”

“I know what it means, but I don’t see where—“

Rolo held up his hand and Grill squeezed even harder.
I stopped talking.

“It means,” Rolo said, “that you’re trying to fuck me over here.”
He leaned forward.
“I know who you are now, bitch.
You’re the one who shot Morris the Cat up north, way back in the day.
Shoot-out at the OK Super Mart or whatever.”

F
resh f
ear lanced through me.

Rolo held up a finger, “Now, I don’t care about that gang-banging worthless shitbag, but this I do care about.
You’re also that stupid mother fucker that let that little white girl die.
You could’ve saved her and you fucked it all up.”

My jaw clenched.

“Tell me it isn’t you,” Rolo challenged.
“Your lily white face was all over the TV and the newspapers both times.
I remember.
”
He gestured toward the old black man at the bar.
“
George
definitely remembers.
So tell me it isn’t you.”

I didn’t answer right away.
Grill squeezed harder, pushing my face toward Rolo.
“Answer the man!” he ordered.

I tried to say something, but it came out a gurgle.
Rolo waved at Grill and he let me go.
Rolo waited a moment, then gave me an “answer the question” turn of his hand.

“It’s me,” I said.

“I know it’s you,” Rolo said.
“What I also know is there isn’t a pig on the entire force that doesn’t think that you are about the dumbest motherfucker that ever lived.”

I didn’t argue.
He was
pretty close to
right.
Another shot of fear radiated sharply from my stomach out to my hands and feet.
I wished again that I’d brought my gun.

Rolo leaned in.
“That means, there’s nobody you can call that’s gonna listen to one motherfuckin’ word you got to say, whether it’s about me and some
sixteen
-
year
-
old bitch or how to turn apples into blowjobs.”
He pointed at me, leaning back.
“You’ve got nothing to trade me.
And
t
hat
is breach of contract.”

“I gave you the fifty dollars,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I told you, that was a tax.” Rolo shook his head at me.
“You think you’re some kind of player?
That you’d come in
here
, into
my place
and play
me
?”

“I just wanted some inform—“

Rolo looked up at the huge man next to the table.
“Leon, if this cracker says one more thing inside this bar, you go ahead and bust a cap right in his fuckin’ face.”

Leon nodded, his hand slipping inside his jacket.

I shut up.

Rolo pursed his lips and leaned in a final time.
“Since you paid that tax and since that girl you let die wasn’t a little black girl, I’m gonna go easy on you.
But don’t you
ever
come back in my place again.
Now nod that you heard me.”

I nodded.

“Good.”
Rolo leaned back and waved to Leon and Grill.
“Now show this motherfucker out.”

26

Grill’s
vise-like
grip on my left upper arm and t
he back of my neck hauled me out of the booth
.
Leon lumbered behind us, his hand beneath his jacket.
I’d expected us to go out the front, was actually looking forward to it, but Grill directed me toward the back of the bar and through the small pool room with a single table.
We headed for an exit at the back of the room.

My stomach clenched.
This wasn’t a simple escort
.

Grill opened the door with my forehead.
We burst out onto a narrow, gravel alley that ran parallel to Sprague.
It was dark. T
he
little
warmth of the day had fled, leaving the air bitter.
My breath plumed in front of me.

With another
hard shove, Grill flung me into the far wall of the alley.
I turned and caught the brunt of the push on my right shoulder, my good one.
I grunted and slid to the ground.

“Get up, bitch,” Grill hissed at me.

I stood up slowly, feigning that I was more hurt than I was.
Leon remained in the doorway, his hand still beneath his jacket.
Grill stood three feet away from me, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.
He held his hands up at shoulder level, his fists lightly clenched.

“You better do what you can to stop me,” Grill said.
“’Cuz I’m coming at you like a motherfucker.”

I
turned
my body
away from him, my stance
bladed
with my left foot
forward
.
My hands came up all on their own, though it had been years since I’d done any training.

Grill smiled, a hint of gold glinting in the light from the streetlight at the end of alley.
“Bitch wants to play.
Good.”

He moved lightly to the left and right.
I held my position, watching the center of his chest and gauging his movements.
He was light on his feet and athletic.
All the while, I was aware of Leon’s hulking frame in the doorway just ten feet away.

Grill flicked out a l
eft hand at my face. It was
more of probe than a punch, and I brushed it aside.
He smiled a little wider and continued to dance left and right.
Another probing punch snapped out, then a third.
I moved my head out of the way of both.

His next punch had more conviction and even blocking it hurt my forearm.
He followed up with a right that I ducked under.
I realized too late that he was following through with a kick.
His shin blasted into my upper leg, catching the nerve that runs beneath the muscle.
I let out a cry of pain and fell to the ground hard.

“Oh, yeah!” Grill said.
“That shit hurts, don’t it?”

I forced myself up onto all fours and spit dirt from
my
mouth.

“Get back up,” he ordered.
“Or I’ll kick you right there.”

I stood up slowly, watching him out of my peripheral vision.
My left leg throbbed and I tested it with a little weight.
It wouldn’t hold much.

Grill didn’t wait.
He stepped through with another kick, this one drilling straight into my midsection and throwing me back into the wall.
I saw it coming and exhaled at the last second, but it still hurt like hell.
Both of my shoulder blades absorbed mos
t of the collision
, but my head snapped
back
a little, too, cracking
it
against the wall.
My vision doubled for a second before sliding back into focus.

I stood still, watching Grill dance on the dirty gravel.
He raised his hands up in the air and glanced over his shoulder at Leon.

“And the black man is the superior athlete!” he chanted like a manic, racist sportscaster.
“He strikes back for four hundred years of oh-presh-un!”

Leon’s flat eyes didn’t waver.

Grill turned back to face me, stepping in and throwing a punch to my face.
I moved to my right at the last second and he
cracked his fist on the brick
wall.
He let out a cry of surprise and pain.

Warmth had enveloped me, like it always did in battle.
I delivered several short, quick blows to his belly, throat and nose while he was still yowling from punching the wall.
Before he could recover from that or from my strikes, I slid behind him, snaked my arms around his neck and clamped down.

I squeezed as tightly as I could, trying to put Grill asleep as fast as possible, before Leon could—

Without warning, I was ripped from Grill and slammed to the ground.
I started to get up, but Leon didn’t wait.
He kicked me in the ribs, sending me sprawling.
There was a shuffle on the gravel, then another kick, this one bouncing off my shoulder.
When that kick didn’t move me, he followed with a third, this one low and below my ribs.
A blinding white pain flashed through my head when that one landed.

A moment of merciful silence followed, then someone grabbed a handful of hair and jerked my head up.
The breath next to my cheek reeked of salami.

“I should kill your white ass,” Grill said.
He settled for p
unch
ing me in the face with his free hand and letting my head drop.

Grill grabbed the sleeve of my jacket and slipped it off of my arm.
With one more hard
yank, he pull
ed it off entirely.

“That
’ll
be
my
tax,” he said.

I thought they might leave me then, but Leon lifted me up by my belt with one massive paw.
“You want to be leavin’ this muthafuckah,” he said, and shoved
me
down the alley.

I staggered away, in perfect agreement.