Urban Renewal (2 page)

“Oh, yeah. He’s not here now, but Rhino is. Look all the way down at the end of the bar. See him?”

“I see … Nobody’s
that
size.”

“That’s what I thought, too. At first. But he’s no thug. In fact, he’s a real gentleman. There’s something wrong with his voice, so it comes out like a squeak. But he’s the only one that can do anything with Princess if something jumps off.”

“Jumps off
here
?”

“Now you’re beginning to get the idea,” the blonde said, making a gesture of some kind toward the man seated behind a triangular table in the far corner, a man whom she knew only as “Cross.”

“
COME ON,
”
the blonde told her friend. “He says it’s okay.”

The two girls sat, each on one side of the triangle table which had been fitted into the corner slot. The tabletop appeared to be a three-inch-thick slab of some kind of dull-gray plastic. Anyone who approached the table uninvited would quickly be treated to a head-on view of that slab—it was hinged to pop forward from the corner at the touch of a floor button. And would turn even a heavy-caliber round into a harmless
splat!

“This is Taylor,” the blonde said. “I already ran down the deal to her.”

“And …?”

“And I’ll take it,” Taylor said, quickly. There was something about the nondescript man. Something that warned her not to equivocate.

She dropped her eyes to the ashtray where Cross was grinding out a cigarette he’d lit when Arabella first pointed him out. Her eyes were drawn to the bull’s-eye tattoo on the back of his right hand; she quickly looked away.

“Really?”

“I didn’t mean like I was doing you a favor or anything. I just—”

“She’s got a boyfriend who talks with his hands,” the blonde cut her off.

“And you want that to stop?” Cross asked without inflection.

“Yes! He—”

“I’m not a social worker. You want him not to bother you
here
, that’s covered by your rent. You want him not to bother you ever
again
, that’s something you have to pay extra for.”

“You mean …?”

“Cash. In advance.”

“But he takes all my—”

“We don’t do labor bonds.”

“Huh?”

“They don’t take IOUs,” the blonde explained. “I already told you, didn’t I? You can stay with me until you build up enough to get another place. If you start here tonight, you won’t be going back. And, from the money you’ll be making …”

“But everything in that apartment is mine. I mean … I
worked
for it.”

“Up to you,” the blonde said.

“Could I … could I pay you to go and
get
my stuff?”

“No” was all Cross said.

“What am I supposed to
do
?” the brunette said, on the verge of tears.

“I’m on in ten,” the blonde said. “You decide what you want to do, catch me on my break.”

THE BRUNETTE
looked at Cross from under heavily veiled eyelashes. That didn’t work any better than the trembling lips, the tears, and her unvoiced offer of … whatever.

He might as well be a piece of furniture
, she thought.
Arabella already told me that—but she’s so damn dramatic about everything, I guess I don’t pay much attention when she talks
.

“You want to work here—fetching your ‘things,’ that’s on the house, too,” Cross said, lighting another cigarette. “Call your boyfriend, tell him where you’ll be working tonight.”

“What good is that going to—?”

“Has he got more than one girl?”

“J.B. isn’t a pimp,” she said indignantly.

“Sure, he is. I was just asking about the size of his stable.”

“I Am Not A Whore,” the brunette said, each word a separate statement.

“You got a kid?”

“No.”

“A dog?”

“No. Why are you asking me?”

“If you had either one, he could put you right back in line by threatening to hurt them.”

“He threatens to hurt
me
,” she snapped. “Isn’t that enough?”

“He ever do more than threaten?”

“Yes. He once took my—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Cross said, stubbing out his cigarette.

Three drags and he’s done?
Taylor thought. “Why doesn’t it matter?” she said aloud.

Cross looked at her. “If you hadn’t got all huffy when I said ‘pimp,’ you’d be asking to work the VIP Room.”

“And how do you know I
won’t
ask to do that?”

Cross said nothing. Arabella was a good worker, quick to catch on. But she was always picking up strays. Touching the
corner of her right eye had already told him all this new one wanted to do was dance.

He nodded his head, as if some agreement had been reached. “If he was a street-certified pimp, he’d know better than to come around this place. But he’s some kind of ‘boyfriend,’ right? The kind who doesn’t work. What’d you do, meet him in a club?”

“I … Yes, that’s right. I mean, not a club like this one. A nightclub.”

“Good-looking guy? Smooth, silky? Nice way of talking?”

“That’s right,” she said, already on the defensive from … she wasn’t sure exactly what.

“Didn’t take long before he moved in with you.”

“Well, we were going to be together anyway, so—”

“So it just kept going in the same direction, rolling downhill. He was waiting on some deal to come through. Or he wanted to cut a demo. Or … whatever. No matter how he put it, he told you he was in some kind of bind, right? That’s when you started dancing.”

“So?”

“You first meet him, he pays for your drinks. Now you pay all
his
bills.”

“I never thought—”

“You think you’re the first girl to bet on the wrong horse? So what? It’s only money—he didn’t take anything you can’t replace. How does he work it? Pick you up every night, make sure he gets his cash?”

“No. I mean, not every night. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t. It depends.…”

“Then he won’t know any better.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to. Just give me a picture of him. You probably have one on your phone.”

The brunette tried to work up a resentful look, but it wouldn’t come. Finally, she reached in her clutch bag and took out a portrait-quality laminated color photo of a slim man in a beige sport coat that looked to be made out of some kind of velvety material, a black silk shirt with pearl buttons underneath. His face looked as if he’d never had to shave, with perfect skin accented by sharp cheekbones. Despite a Cajun complexion, his eyes were blue and his hair had a faint reddish tinge. The diamond studs in his earlobes flashed brilliantly, even in the photo.

“This is Jean-Baptiste,” she said, unable to keep the pride out of her voice. “What happens now?”

“Depends on him.”

“Meaning what?”

Cross lit another cigarette, blew a harsh jet toward the invisible ceiling. “It’s not important. But
this
is, so listen close before you say anything. If he shows up here tonight, you’ll be able to go back to your place. But I wouldn’t do that, I was you. I’d make sure I worked until tomorrow. And then go spend the next night with a friend. Just get this straight: if he
doesn’t
show, you
can’t
go back.”

“I can’t leave Teffie.”

“Your …”

“Cat,” she answered Cross’s question. “He was a rescue.”

“So not declawed?”

“No!” the brunette said proudly. “He’s, you know, spayed and everything, but he still goes out whenever he wants. There’s a little slot in the window, and—”

The brunette stopped mid-sentence, as a pair of hands dropped lightly on her shoulders.

“Relax,” a man’s voice said. “I just need to talk to the boss.”

“You mean alone?” the brunette said, without turning around.

“Always.”

The brunette stood up. “I … I’m ready to work,” she said to Cross.

“Get your shifts straight with Arabella. Then phone the pretty boy and tell him where you’re working, what time you’ll be getting off.”

“He might come earlier. He does that, sometimes.”

“Won’t change anything.”

“Oh.”

“Uh …” the man behind her muttered, the thinnest thread of impatience surfacing in his voice.

The brunette got up and walked off, not looking back.

“
WHAT
’
D HE
do
this
time, Buddha?”

“This’s got nothing to do with Princess, boss.” The speaker was a short, pudgy man with pitch-dark eyes that were slightly corner-slanted. “It’s So Long. She came up with a real moneymaker of an idea—”

“She ever come up with any
other
kind of idea?”

“You got any more potshots you want to take, or can I just get on with this?”

Cross scrubbed out his cigarette.

“Thing is,” Buddha said, “she wants to meet with you about it.”

“You inviting me over for dinner?”

“Come on, boss, you don’t have to keep lobbing those frags my way. She’ll come to the spot, how’s that?”

“Sure. Couldn’t bring her here, right? She’d want to look at the books.”

“
Damn!
Lighten up, okay? You think I don’t know what the deal is with my own wife?”

“No, brother—I think you do. So I’m puzzled—why would you want her in
our
business all of a sudden? Everything we own on paper, it’s in your name and Ace’s, joint owners. And it’s a total tontine, so she’s in for half no matter what. That makes her fifty-fifty to take it all.”

“I don’t get—”

“You go first, Ace’s woman, she takes everything. You know Sharyn—she’d cut it right down the middle, give So Long her rightful piece. But if
Ace
goes first, it all goes to So Long. You saying
she’d
cut Sharyn in?”

“That’s what she promised when we all made the deal.”

“Yeah. And she’s gonna
keep
that promise, because nobody’s selling nothing off until we’re
all
gone. So, if I’m still around—or Rhino, or maybe even Tracker and Tiger, depending—she’s going to do the right thing.”

“Or Sharyn ends up with it all, you’re saying?”

“Do I have to?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do, boss. Spell it out for me,” the pudgy man said, comfortable in the seat vacated by the brunette. Nothing in his posture vibed “danger,” but he wasn’t a member of the Cross crew for his looks.

“Okay, brother,” Cross said, not raising his voice. “There’s a few of us.
Damn
few of us. None of us young, and none of us expecting to die of old age, either. Ace and Sharyn have been together a long time. Five kids.”

“Two of them are old enough—”

“Five kids,” Cross went on, as if Buddha hadn’t spoken. “Sharyn may not know exactly what Ace does, but she knows he doesn’t bring home a paycheck. Or any other kind of check.

“And he takes care of her. Of her and those kids.
Good
care. What So Long knows … well, let’s just say that’s one very curious woman. And a real smart one, too.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I can’t do that, brother. You just want me to say it out loud, yeah? All right, then: If Ace goes before you do, you’d be the only one who owns anything that we all put together. So Sharyn keeps right on getting whatever money she needs. We take care of our own.