Mr Majestyk

  Someone else was inside, a big-shouldered man, behind the wheel.

  "You want pickers, maybe I can get you some wine heads," Kopas said. He s traightened, unfolding his arms, as Majestyk walked over to him. "You touch me , man, you're back in jail by lunchtime."

  Majestyk stared at him, standing there close enough to touch. All he had to d o w as grab the front of that pretty shirt and belt him. It would be easy and i t w ould be pure pleasure. But the deputy was across the street and Majestyk didn't h ave to look over to know he was watching them. He wondered if Kopas knew th e m an in the State Highway Department truck was a cop.

  "You dropped the complaint," Majestyk said. "Why? You want to try and pay m e b ack yourself?"

  "I do you a favor--Jesus, after you like to broke my nose, you think I'm pullin g s omething." Kopas gave him the hint of a grin. "Man, I'm being a good neighbor , that's all."

  "What'd you say to Julio Tamaz and the other contractors? You pay them off o r t hreaten them? How'd you work it?"

  The little grin was still there. "Man, I hope nobody's telling stories on me , giving me a bad name."

  "They didn't say it was you. I'm saying it."

  "Why would I do a thing like that?"

  "So I'll lose my crop."

  "I think you must be a little mixed up," Kopas said. "Don't know where you r h ead's at. Here you are standing in deep shit and you're worried about a littl e d inky melon crop."

  "You've been talking to somebody," Majestyk said.

  "Who's that?" Kopas said, giving him the grin.

  "I can fix it you'd have a hard time smiling again."

  Kopas tensed and the grin vanished. "Listen, I'm not kidding. You even make a f ist, man, you're back in jail."

  "Are you working for him?"

  "Who's that?"

  "He get you to drop the complaint?"

  "I think I'm tired of talking to you," Kopas said. He moved to the car door an d o pened it, then looked back at Majestyk.

  "I'll tell you one thing though. Somebody's going to set your ass on fire. And I'm going to be there to see it."

  The Olds started off as Kopas got in and slammed the door.

  Majestyk caught a glimpse of the driver's profile--looking at Kopas, sayin g s omething--and for a moment he thought he knew the man or had seen him before.

  But the car was moving away and it was too late to get another look at him an d b e sure. Big shoulders, curly hair. Maybe he was one of the guys who had bee n w ith Kopas a week ago, the day it began. Or a different one. The car wa s d ifferent.

  What difference did it make? He had enough people to think about withou t b ringing in new ones. Faces to remember. Frank Renda's. Telling him he was goin g t o kill him. Now Kopas and Renda. The man had already started to make his move.

  He didn't waste time. He found Kopas and hired him. That was plain enough. No w t hey were beginning to play a game with him. Let him know they were coming. Giv e h im something to keep him awake nights. He thought of telling the deputy in the State Highway Department truck. Get him after them, quick, before they turne d o ff the highway somewhere. Maybe they would lead him to Renda.

  But Renda didn't have any reason to hide. He was free.

  And what does the cop do, arrest them? For what?

  No, whatever's going to happen is going to happen, Majestyk thought. So go hom e a nd pick your melons.

  Chapter 8.

  "I'M NOT SHITTIN' YOU," Kopas said. "I was thinking of dropping the complain t a nyway, so I could take care of the son of a bitch myself."

  Eugene Lundy wasn't listening to him. He was staring straight ahead, over th e h ood of the Olds 98, at the vacant land of dust-green mesquite and sun glare an d b ugs rising with the airstream and exploding in yellow bursts against th e w indshield. Like somebody was spitting them there.

  "Load up the pump gun and wait for him," Kopas said. "Or stick it in his windo w s ome night. See him sittin' on the toilet. Bam. Scatter the motherfucker al l o ver the room."

  Lundy was counting the bug stains, more than a dozen of the yellow ones: som e k ind of bug flying along having a nice time and the next thing sucked into th e w ind, coming up fast over the hood and wiped out, the bug not knowing what i n t he name of Christ happened to him. Maybe they had been butterflies. Seeing th e b ugs suddenly, there wasn't time to tell what they were.

  "I got to piss," Kopas said.

  Lundy looked at the speedometer and up again. He was holding between seventy an d s eventy-five down the country road that rose and dropped through the desert , seeing no other cars, no people, not even signs.

  "Man, I'm in pain," Kopas said. "All you got to do is stop the car."

  "We're almost there," Lundy said. "I'm not going to stop twice."

  "How long you think it's going to take me, an hour? All I want to do is take a p iss."

  "Hold it," Lundy said.

  Maybe they were all different kinds of bugs, but all bugs were yellow inside.

  Like all people were red inside. Maybe. Lundy had never thought about it before.

  His gaze held on the stained windshield as he waited for a bug to come up ove r t he hood.

  He felt so good his eyes were watering, and kept going like he was never goin g t o stop. Jesus, what a relief. Son of a bitch Lundy made him hold it twent y m inutes, refusing to stop the car. He'd finally pleaded with him. Christ, jus t s low down, he'd piss out the window, but the son of a bitch wouldn't even d o t hat. A very cold son of a bitch who didn't say much, sitting on two piece s u nder his seat, a Colt .45 automatic and a big fucking Colt .44 mag. He ha d a sked the guy if he had been in on the bus job and the guy had looked at him an d s aid, "The bus job. Is that what you call it?" And that was all he'd said.

  Bobby Kopas zipped up his fly and walked around to the front of the Olds where Lundy was standing, squinting up at the sky.

  "Hurry up and wait," Kopas said. "I never seen a plane come in on time in m y l ife. Not even the airlines, not once I ever went out to the airport. Everybod y s itting around waiting. Go in the cocktail lounge you're smashed by the time th e f ucking plane arrives. You ever seen a plane come in on time?"

  Staring at the sky and the flat strip of desert beyond the road, Lundy said , "Why don't you shut your mouth for a while?"

  Christ, you couldn't even talk to the guy. Kopas moved around with his hands i n h is pockets, kicking a few stones, looking around for some shade, which ther e w asn't a bit of anywhere, squinting in the hot glare, squinting even with hi s w raparound sunglasses on. The glasses made him sweat and he had to keep wipin g h is eyes. Lundy stood there not moving, like the heat didn't bother him at all.

  Big, heavy son of a bitch who should've been lathered with sweat by now, like a h orse.

  They heard the plane before they saw it, the faraway droning sound, then a do t i n the sky coming in low, the sun flashing on its windshield. The Cessna passe d o ver them at about a hundred feet. As it banked, descending, coming around in a w ide circle, Lundy finally spoke. He said, "Wait here," and walked out into th e d esert.

  Kopas was excited now. He wanted to appear cool and make a good impression. He p ut his hands on his hipbones and cocked one leg, pointing the toe of the boo t o ut a little. Like a gunfighter. So the guy was big time. He'd act cool, savvy , show the guy he wasn't all that impressed.

  He watched the plane come to a stop about a hundred yards away. Lundy, going ou t t o meet it, was holding up his arm, waving at the plane. Big jerk.

  Renda came out first and then the girl--white slacks and a bright green blouse.

  Even at this distance she looked good. Blond, nice slim figure. Now they wer e c oming this way and Lundy was talking to them, gesturing, probably telling Rend a h ow the murder charge against him had been dropped. Renda wouldn't have know n a bout it, though the pilot might have told him. As the plane started its engin e t o take off, the prop wash blew sand at them and they hunched their shoulder s a nd turned away from the stinging blast of air. L
undy was talking again. Rend a s topped and they all stopped. Renda was saying something.

  Then Lundy was talking again. As they came up to the road Kopas heard Lundy say , "You could have rode up here bareass on a white horse, nobody would've stoppe d y ou."

  "What about the bus thing?" the girl asked him.

  She was something. Maybe the best-looking girl Bobby Kopas had ever seen.

  "There's nothing they can stick you with," Lundy said. "The bus, nothing. The y t ried to, naturally. There're three cops involved and they don't like that on e b it. But what're they going to stick you with? You didn't shoot the cops. Yo u d idn't take the bus. The guy did, Majestyk. But they don't even jam him fo r t hat. You see what I'm getting at?"

  Kopas had never heard Lundy talk so much.

  The good-looking girl said, "God, nothing like a little dumb luck."

  "Luck, bullshit," Renda said. "Timing. Make it happen. And never run till yo u s ee you're being chased."

  "With a fast lawyer available at all times," the girl said. She didn't seem t o b e afraid of him.

  "They had to let him go," Renda said. "I could see that right away, the cop s c oming up with this great idea. Don't stick him with the bus, no, let him go so I'll show up and try for him."

  "That's the question," Lundy said. "What're the cops doing?"

  "No, the question is what's the guy doing? Is he still sitting for it or what?"

  "He's around," Lundy said. "We just saw him."

  Kopas stepped out of the way as they approached the Olds. He set a grin on hi s f ace and said, "Probably home by now waiting on you, Mr. Renda."

  Renda looked at him. Christ, with the coldest look he'd ever gotten from a p erson. Like he was a thing or wasn't even there. Christ, he'd been arrested , he'd been in the can. He wasn't some lightweight who didn't know what he wa s d oing.

  He said, "Mr. Renda? I wonder if I could ask you a favor." Renda was looking a t h im again. "I know it's your party, but--after you finish the son of a bitch--yo u m ind if I put a couple of slugs in him?"

  Renda said to Lundy, "Who's this asshole?"

  "Bobby Kopas. Boy Majestyk hit."

  "You pay him to drop it?"

  "Five hundred."

  "Then what's he doing here?"

  "He's working for us," Lundy said, "to see nobody works for Majestyk. So ther e w on't be a crowd hanging around there. He knows the guy's place, back roads , ways in and out. I thought he might come in handy."

  Kopas thought he could add to that. He said, "I been watching that Polack melo n p icker since they let him out. He doesn't fart that I don't know about it."

  The girl said, probably to Lundy, "Is he for real?"

  Kopas wasn't sure what she meant. He kept his eyes on Renda, who was staring a t h im, and tried not to look away.

  "You're telling me you know him pretty well?" Renda asked.

  "I know he's a stuck-up son of a bitch. Got a two-bit farm and thinks he's a bi g g rower."

  "How long's he lived here?"

  Kopas grinned. "Not much longer I guess, huh?"

  "I ask you a question," Renda said, "you don't seem to want to answer it."

  Jesus, that look again. "Well, I'm not sure how long exactly he's been here.

  Couple years, I guess. I just got into this labor business recently, when I see n t here was money in it."

  "Show me where he lives," Renda said.

  "Yes sir, any time you say."

  "Right now."

  "Frank," Lundy said, "your lawyer got the house, it's all set. Up in th e m ountains, nobody can bother you or know you're there. I thought maybe you'd w ant to go up to the house first, you know, take it easy for a while."

  Renda said, "Gene, did I come here to take it easy? I could be home, not at som e p lace in the mountains. But I'm not home."

  "I know you're anxious," Lundy began.

  "Gene, I want to see the guy's place," Renda said. "I want to see it right now."

  The two Anglo kids in the white T-shirts quit at noon and Mendoza paid them off.

  That left nine. So Majestyk went out in the field and picked melons all the res t o f the day with Nancy Chavez and her friends from Yuma. Maybe next year he coul d s tand around and watch, or sit in an office like a big melon grower. Sit on th e p orch and drink iced tea. That would be nice.

  He wasn't used to this. He could feel the soreness in his back, and each time h e r eached the end of a row it would take him a little longer to straighten up. Al l d ay, dirty and sweaty and thirsty--drinking the lukewarm water in the canvas bag.

  Tomorrow he'd get a tub of ice and some pop, cover it with a piece of burlap.

  He'd forgotten how difficult and painful stooped labor was. Around 5:30, afte r e leven hours of it, the pickers began to straggle out of the field and unloa d t heir last melon sacks at the trailer parked on the road.

  Majestyk was finishing a row, finally, when Nancy Chavez crossed through th e v ines and came toward him, a full sack hanging from her shoulder.

  She said, "I've been watching you. For a grower you're pretty good."

  "Lady, I've picked way more'n I've ever grown." He got up with an effort, tryin g n ot to show it, and the girl smiled at him. As they moved off toward th e t railer, where Mendoza and two of his small sons were emptying the sacks an d s tacking the melons, Majestyk said, "I meant to ask if you ever sorted."

  "All the time. It's what I do best."

  "Maybe you could start things going in the packing shed tomorrow. If you'd lik e t o."

  "Whatever you say."

  "We ever get it done, I'd like to pay everybody something extra."

  "You worried we won't take it?"

  "I just want you to know I appreciate your staying here and all."

  "Don't mention it. You're paying, aren't you?"

  "Are the quarters all right? They haven't been used in a while. Couple of year s a t least."

  "They're okay," the girl said. "We've lived in worse."

  They were approaching the trailer and he wanted to say something to her befor e t hey reached it and Mendoza might hear him.

  "You want to have supper with me?"

  She turned her head to look at him. "Where, your house? Just the two of us, al l a lone?"

  "We can go down the highway you want. I don't care."

  They were at the trailer now. She handed up her sack to Mendoza before lookin g a t Majestyk again.

  "For a man needs a job done, where do you get all this free time? You want t o p ack melons, why don't we start?"

  "You mean tonight?"

  "Why not?"

  "They'd keep working?"

  "For money. You make it when you can." She said then, "If you don't want to as k t hem, I'll do it. We'll eat, then go to the packing shed and work another hal f s hift. All right?"

  "Lady," Majestyk said, "you swing that I'll marry you and give you a home."

  She seemed to be considering it, her expression serious, solemn, before saying , "How about if I settle for a cold beer after work?"

  "All you want."

  "Maybe a couple."

  She gave him a nice look and walked away, up the road toward the migran t q uarters. Both Majestyk and Mendoza, on the trailer, stood watching her.

  Mendoza said, "You like a piece of that, huh?" He looked down at Majestyk's d eadpan expression and added quickly, "Hey, I don't mean nothing. Take it easy."

  Majestyk handed him his sack. "You hear what she said? They'll start packin g t onight."

  Mendoza emptied the sack and came down off the trailer while his sons stacke d t he melons. "You must live right," he said. "Or maybe it's time you had som e g ood luck for a change." He nodded toward the migrant quarters, fishing a c igarette out of his shirt pocket. "Those people, they're twice as good as what Julio brings up. They work hard because they like you. They don't want to se e y ou lose a crop."

  "I don't know," Majestyk said. "Maybe we can do it."

  "We'll do it, Vincent. Don't get
anybody else mad at you, we'll do it."

  "We're coming to it now," Kopas said, over his shoulder. "On the right there.

  That's his packing shed."

  Renda and Wiley were in the back seat. Lundy was driving, slowing down now a s t hey approached the yellow building with majestyk brand melons painted on th e s ide.

  "See," Kopas said. "Puts his name up as big as he can get it. Down the end o f t hat road we're coming to the house. Way down, where you see the trees."

  Renda was studying the road, then hunching forward to look across the field a t t he road, at the trailer and the figures in the road and the three old car s p arked in front of the migrant living quarters.

  He sat back again. "You said nobody was working for him."

  "No crews," Kopas said. "He picked up a few migrants, that's all."

  "They're people, aren't they?"

  "Some claim they are. I don't." Christ, he knew right away he shouldn't hav e s aid it. It slipped out, talking smart again and not answering his questio n d irect. He waited, looking straight ahead, knowing it was coming. But Rend a d idn't say anything for a moment, not until they were passing the sign that sai d r oad construction 500 ft., passing the barricades and equipment, the portabl e t oilet and the State Highway Department pickup truck.

  He said then, "Go up to the next road and turn around."

  Lundy's eyes raised to the rearview mirror. "You want another look at hi s l ayout? That's all there is, what you saw."

  "Gene," Renda said, "turn the fucking car around."

  They had to go up about a mile to do it. Coming back, approaching the roa d r epair site again, Renda said, "How long's that been there?"

  Kopas wasn't sure what he meant at first and had to twist around to see where h e w as looking.

  "That road stuff? I don't know, a few days."

  "How long!" Renda's voice drilled into the back of his head and Kopas kep t s taring at the barricades and equipment as they approached, trying to remember , trying to recall quickly how many days.

  "They been there as long as I been watching his place. I'm sure of that."

  Now they were even with the site, going past it. Kopas was looking out the sid e w indow and saw the guy in khaki work clothes getting into the pickup truck. I t w as a close look at a face he'd seen somewhere before, but only a quick glimpse , and he was turning to look back when Renda's voice hit him in the head again.