The Barbed-Wire Kiss (2 page)

“I used to sell a little weed years back,” Bobby said. “You knew that. It was no big deal. Everybody was doing it. Except you, of course. You remember Jimmy Cortez?”

“Should I?”

“You’d know him if you saw him. He used to tend bar at a couple places around here. Lives in Bradley Beach. Skinny guy, dark skin, looked like that actor … what’s his name? Andy Garcia?”

Harry shook his head, shrugged.

“I used to go out with his older sister, Andrea. You might have known her, she was a couple years behind us at Red Bank Catholic. We hooked up for a little while after I quit school. She lives in Denver now. Got the fuck out of New Jersey while she could. Can’t blame her.”

“Tell me about Jimmy.”

“He used to deal a little on the side when he was bartending. Nothing big. Six, seven years ago, he cut me in on a couple small things. He made it worth my while.”

“How small?”

“I probably got five hundred back each time. Not much. We were a little strapped for cash, so it made a difference. I never handled the product, just helped him with the front money. About six months ago he came to work at the boatyard. I hadn’t seen him for a while. He sounded me out a couple times, asked if I wanted to pick up where we left off. I told him no, I didn’t think so. It wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. He understood.”

“And then?”

“Two months ago he came to me again, told me he was putting something together, something good, bigger than before. But he needed a partner to make it fly, someone he could trust.”

“And this time you said yes.”

“Some things had changed. I decided to reconsider.”

“You sure you want to tell me all this?”

“Who else can I tell? I’m not pissing and moaning. I knew what I was getting into. It was my decision.”

“What happened?”

“It was a little scary at first. It was like playing in a different league, you know? I had to scrape a little to come up with my end. For a while, I didn’t know if I could. Would have been better if I hadn’t, I guess.”

“How much money?”

“Up front? Twenty grand.”

“You had that much lying around?”

“We were equal partners, so we only had to come up with ten each. Even then it wasn’t easy. But we got it together. Jimmy gave it to this guy and he fronted us a package. I went along for the ride.”

“Why?”

“He knew Jimmy couldn’t come up with that kind of money himself. He wanted to meet me, check me out, I guess. What we gave him wasn’t a third of what it was worth, so he had a lot coming back. It was a big investment on his part.”

“How much did you owe on the balance?”

“Enough.”

“How much?”

“Fifty grand.”

“That’s a long way from selling loose joints.”

“Tell me about it.”

“That’s felony weight.”

“That what they called it when you were with the state police?”

“That’s what they call it in the courtroom when they’re sending people to Rahway for fifty years.”

Bobby nodded, blew out smoke. “Thing of it is, Jimmy already knew guys who were willing to take the whole package, couldn’t wait to get their hands on it. All we had to do was buy it and pass it on to them, more than double our money. We were looking to clear about forty-five grand apiece. It would have been a nice nest egg.”

“So what happened?”

“He’s gone.”

“Jimmy?”

Bobby nodded, dropped the cigarette on the deck, and ground it out with a boot heel.

“He took off on you?”

“Maybe. Hard to believe it if he did. But put enough money in front of someone, there’s no telling what he’ll do. I’m living proof of that, right?”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

“Three weeks yesterday.”

“He have the whole package?”

“Every ounce. He was keeping it until he could close the deal on the other end. That was fine with me. I didn’t want it around.”

“Do you know who his buyers were?”

“Some bikers in South Jersey. He’d dealt with them before.”

“Where does this leave you?”

“In the shit. And feeling like an idiot. This was going to be it, you know? A one-time thing. I’d finally found the balls to put the chips down and let it ride.”

“Your supplier, he know about this, about Jimmy?”

“I had to tell him.”

“How soon did he expect the rest of his money?”

“A month, maybe a little longer. He wasn’t sweating it.”

“Now the month is up.”

“You got it.”

“What was his reaction when you told him?”

“I gave him the whole thing, straight up. But the way he looks at it, he fronted us something for a down payment, with an agreed-on balance due. And all I’ve given him so far is a story about my partner dropping out of sight and my not being able to find him. Sure, he’s pissed, who wouldn’t be? He doesn’t want to hear about my problems. He wants his money or his stuff back.”

“And?”

“And I haven’t got either.”

“He putting heat on you?”

“It’s coming. He sent somebody around to the house looking for me the other night, guy that works for him.”

“What happened?”

“I wasn’t there. Janine wouldn’t let him in. She said she told him to leave or she’d call the police. It scared her, though. That’s what pisses me off. I mean, business is business. But coming to the house, that’s not right.”

“Did he make any threats?”

Bobby shook his head, took out the cigarettes again.

“He was there and that’s enough. I guess they felt it was time to make some sort of gesture.”

“Your friend Jimmy. You must have trusted him a lot.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did he need you?”

Bobby got a cigarette going.

“Like I said, the front money. He couldn’t come up with the whole twenty himself. And he knew he could trust me.”

“Maybe he thought he deserved more because he was taking more of the risk. Maybe he thought he deserved it all.”

“You mean make the exchange, keep the money, say, ‘Adios, motherfucker’?”

“Why not? What would have stopped him?”

“I’ve thought about that. I guess I just didn’t want to believe it.”

“Janine know about all this?”

“Most of it. She thinks it’s pot. I didn’t tell her otherwise. Like I said, it was her idea I talk to you.”

Harry watched the drawbridge slowly close, the cars start to move. Beyond he could see the boats leaving the inlet, heading out into the darkness.

There were footsteps behind them, and they turned to see a gray-haired, unshaven man come unsteadily out onto the deck. He looked from Harry to Bobby, his eyes unfocused, then went over to the far corner, unzipped his pants, and began to urinate loudly through the railing into the weeds below.

Bobby looked at Harry. “Do you believe this shit?”

He turned to the old man. “Hey, pal.”

The man looked back over his shoulder, urine drops spattering the planks of the deck.

“Why don’t you go do that somewhere else?”

He looked blankly at Bobby, then at Harry. “Fuck you,” he said finally, his voice slurred.

Bobby took a step toward him, and Harry caught his arm. The old man turned his back on them, carefully shook off and zipped up, then went back into the bar without a word.

Bobby shook his head, turned back to the water. Harry picked up his beer bottle, swished it, drank some. He put it back down, rested his elbows on the railing.

“You never told me,” he said. “Who was the supplier?”

“A guy named Eddie Fallon.”

Harry pushed away from the railing, looked at him.

Bobby felt the silence, turned.

“What?”

“Eddie Fallon?”

“You know him?”

“I know who he is—and what he is. I know his reputation.”

“Hard to blame him in this case. He gave us an opportunity. He and I both got fucked.”

“If you feel that way, you’re not thinking straight. People like Eddie Fallon don’t get fucked. They spend their whole lives making sure someone else’s ass is on the line when it comes down to it.”

“Maybe, but isn’t that what all businessmen do?”

“Most businessmen don’t sell cocaine.”

Bobby turned away, blew smoke out.

“Cocaine’s passé,” he said.

Harry watched the side of his face.

“Let’s go back inside,” Bobby said. “I think I need another drink.”

“Hold on. What happened when you told him?”

“Not much. I called him when I realized Jimmy was gone. He had me come by this restaurant he owns in Manasquan, the Sand Castle.”

“I know it.”

“He didn’t even show up. He sent this guy Wiley, the same one that came by the house. Big, bald-headed bastard, used to bounce at one of his clubs. I told him everything, but he didn’t react at all. Just told me he’d pass on the message, generally treated me like a piece of shit. I wanted to hit him. I need that drink.”

They went back inside. There was another dancer on stage now, a brunette in a mesh top and zippered leather pants. Their stools were still empty.

The barmaid came over, lifted the tequila bottle. Bobby shook his head, pointed at Harry’s half-empty beer.

“So,” Harry said when she was gone. “You try and look for this Jimmy?”

“As much as I could. He’s got two paychecks waiting for him at work. No one’s picked them up, and no one I’ve talked to has seen him. He hasn’t been at his apartment in a while, either. I went by a couple of times. His car’s gone. Whether his clothes and things are still there, I don’t know. I didn’t go inside.”

“You talk to the sister?”

“And say what? ‘Hey, it’s Bobby Fox, remember me? Your brother and I were doing a dope deal together and he ran out on me. Have you seen him recently?’ No, I didn’t talk to her. Maybe I should have, but I didn’t.”

The barmaid brought two Coronas, no limes this time. Bobby gave her a ten.

“He have any other family around here?” Harry said.

“Not anymore. At least none that I know of.”

Bobby lifted his bottle, drank.

“I’ve got a friend,” Harry said. “We were with the state police together. He has connections with the state AG’s office.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it.”

“Go to the police? Testify against Fallon? It’s not like I’m an innocent in all this, is it?”

“You have to consider your options. There aren’t a lot.”

“Maybe so, but there have to be more than that. Like I said, I got myself into this. No one else.”

Harry looked around, felt a vague depression creeping over him, a feeling of backsliding. He wanted to be out of there.

“You want my advice?”

“That’s why I called you.”

“Pay him.”

“If I could do that …”

“How much could you put together? Right now, in the next week. How much money could you get your hands on?”

“I don’t know. Four, maybe five thousand tops. And that’s stretching it.”

“Round up whatever you can, even if it’s only a few thousand. Give it to him as a gesture of good faith, tell him there’s more to come.”

“A few thousand? He’d fucking laugh at me.”

“Maybe not. You give him four, five grand, tell him you’ll pay him the rest as soon as you can. This way at least he doesn’t think you’re trying to make a fool out of him. He’ll take it, I guarantee you. And it’ll buy us some time to think this thing through.”

Bobby turned to him and Harry saw a flash of wetness in his eyes. Bobby looked away quickly, raised his beer.

“Janine was right,” he said.

“About what?”

“About talking with you. But I was worried.”

“Worried?”

“That things had changed. We haven’t seen each other much lately. I wasn’t sure what you’d think about all this.”

“You want me to tell you that you fucked up? You already know that.”

“Yeah, I do. And up until this moment, the only light I’ve seen at the end of the tunnel has been one big goddamn train.”

Harry slid off the stool.

“I’ll give you a call at the house tomorrow. We’ll talk more about this.”

He put his hand out. Bobby took it.

“Nothing’s changed,” Harry said.

Bobby squeezed his hand, let it go. He turned his face away, lifted his beer.

Harry started for the door. Halfway there, he saw the blonde dancer sitting at the bar. She was dressed now, T-shirt and jeans, her gym bag at her feet, her bangs still damp and dark with sweat. She was sipping a Coke, nodding while the old man from the deck leaned close to her, pantomimed catching some phantom fish. She caught Harry’s glance, smiled without hesitation.
Save me.

He started toward her and a bouncer moved in front of him, shouldering a case of beer. He put it on the bar, ducked below the flap, came up on the other side, and began shoving bottles into the ice chest.

“Hit the road, Pops,” he said to the drunk. “Leave the lady alone.”

The old man drew himself up, his eyes narrowing into slits. The bouncer looked into his face, pushed beer into ice. Mumbling, the old man turned away, started back down the bar. The blonde put her hand on the bouncer’s arm, said something close to his ear. He laughed.

Harry walked past them to the door and pushed out into the night.

Ten in the morning and the air was already thick with humidity. He threw back the single sheet, lay naked and sweat-slick on the bed, watching the ceiling fan turn above him.

After a while, he made his way into the bathroom and showered, washed the bar smells and cigarette smoke out of his hair. Standing in front of the mirror afterward, he touched the ugly quarter-sized scar two inches to the left of his navel. The tissue there was thick, like melted wax left to harden, dimpled slightly where the bullet had gone in. He dried off as best he could in the heavy air, put on a sleeveless gray T-shirt and cutoff jeans.

He made instant coffee in the kitchen, carried the mug out onto the front porch. The sky was a hard, bright, cloudless blue. He sat in the ladderback rocker and looked down the long willow-lined slope of his driveway to where it joined the county road. Traffic was sparse now, but it would be bumper-to-bumper this afternoon, as people headed east to the Shore for the weekend.