Road Dogs

  Tico's mama Shirlene once she'd had enough of West Memphis found her way to Central America with a light-skin Latino guy. Tico was born and she left the first guy for another light-skin guy, a musician famous for playing the marimba, and she began to sing with his band called Los Parados. Shirlene changed her name to Sierra and became famous down there doing Afro-Caribbean funk in San JosT clubs. Days she spent with Tico as he grew up, loving him, teaching him how to be black American on the beat, how to wear his hair long and a hat if he wanted with the do-rag, what kind of silver to wear, rings and an earring. Sierra spoke English to him at home, good English and street English, preparing him for his world. She said, Baby, feel your cool self, who you are, somebody special. She told him every day, There is no one else like you. Don't fuck up.

  This Lou Adams had big hands and hard bones showing in his face. He was the kind of man believed he knew everything. Be talking, thumbs hooked in his belt, turn his head to spit, turn his head back and still be talking. Why's he want this bank robber? To make a name for himself? Catch this famous bandit Tico had never heard of? Why's he think the bank robber was staying at a house everybody knows belongs to Cundo Rey? The Lone Ranger says no, Little Jimmy Rios owns the house. Tico said, Oh, is that right?

  I looked up the records, Louis Adams said, and saw the signature, James Rios.

  What everyone who knew anything was suppose to believe. But if Little Jimmy belonged to Cundo Rey, going back to the time they left Cooba, wouldn't the homes also belong to Cundo? Why didn't the Lone Ranger know that? You own two high-price homes on a canal, the most expensive property in Venice, you had to be a millionaire, even if you were living in a prison cell in Florida.

  Tico said to Louis Adams, What are you paying us for this work? You get to stay here, Lou Adams said. I don't send your ass home.

  I don't do this work for you, you deport me?

  I make a phone call, it's done.

  The guys I get for you, I tell them that?

  They're illegals, aren't they?

  I don't know. There would be a court hearing to find out, uh? I know of these situations, it could take weeks. Lou said, While you're being held in federal detention. I understand that, Tico said, but while you holding us, who's watching the bank robber? Lou Adams said, Sandy, are you fuckin' with me again? I'll get you sent home tomorrow.

  Tico said, You know my place of birth is Costa Rica? No, you didn't, did you? You know my mother was born in the state of Arkansas? I think you knew it and forgot. It makes me also a citizen of the United States. I have a passport.

  Tico waited, giving the federal time to think of what he might say, the man trying hard to be a serious FBI man. Help him out.

  Still, Tico said, I see what you need to do and I think, all right, I get the guys. We see the bank robber leave the house we know is owned by a criminal who isn't there, is in prison. The bank robber has left. Now, nobody is there, this place owned by a millionaire criminal.

  Lou Adams said, You gonna fuckin' act it out next? You want to know what you get out of it? Give your boys some T-shirts that say Y. B. U. across the front. You get to see your mama when she comes to visit. We won't detain her, have her x-rayed. 'Well, it looks like you're in a good shape. Except for those balloons in your tummy.' Lou turned to get in Tico's face. Don't fuck with me, boy.

  Chapter TEN

  HE'LL BE HERE THE END OF NEXT WEEK, FOLEY SAID, unless he decides to lay over in South Beach and go crazy.

  He won't, Dawn said. He'll be here the day he's released. She said, I'll call Little Jimmy in the morning, have him come by so you can see what he's like. I would've called him today if you hadn't seduced me. She said, I'm starting to sound like you, aren't I? That's a compliment. What was it you said, we were plumbing our compatibility? I have to say, Jack, you could be a master plumber.

  They were in bed, lying close to each other in the dark, the night of their first day together, worn out but not able to sleep. He said, What do you mean I could be?

  That's not important now, Dawn said. The main thing is we've found each other.

  He'd accept that. Without looking at the odds, or thinking about what-ifs, Dawn was right. They'd met and it was done, they'd found each other.

  She was lying on her side facing him, her arm under the pillow. He could hear her breathing and wanted to see her eyes. He reached for the lighter on the nightstand and flicked it on and saw her eyes in the glow, waiting.

  You don't have any doubts about this.

  She said, None. As soon as I saw you I knew we could make it happen.

  Walk away with a score.

  In time. Once we know what we're after.

  He gets out, Foley said, we won't see much of each other. You'll be with him.

  She said, Sleeping with him that's what you're thinking. There's nothing I can do about it, we bide our time.

  We could take off tomorrow, Foley said. Put the top down, drive all the way through Mexico, Guatemala, Nicaragua, we don't stop till we're in Costa Rica.

  I wait eight years of my life, Dawn said, to steal a Volkswagen. She touched his face, brushed the tips of her fingers over his mouth. You call him the little fella, your prison buddy you know you can't trust. He tells me he's invested money in you and wants me to put you to work. So I'm thinking you could come on as the true love of a woman whose dead husband is giving her a hard time.

  How's he do it?

  Makes appearances.

  Foley stared at her.

  I do this all the time, have psychic house parties for rich old broads, never more than six or eight at a time, two bills to find out about yourself or your past life, your yearnings, reconnect with deceased loved ones. I hypnotize skinny ones who aren't too old to enlarge their breasts.

  You can do that?

  Through visualization techniques. I have them write on a piece of notepaper something they want more than anything in the world. I take the notes folded, I don't peek at what they wrote. I look at the ladies one at a time. Suzanne wants to stop smoking.

  Another one wants to lose weight those are easy. The best kind of all, Danialle wishes her dead husband would stop bothering her.

  How'd you guess that?

  I didn't guess, I knew who she was, an actress before her husband died. He was a film producer. I bring you in as the ghost expert. She immediately falls for you and that solves her problem. Dawn said, Hmmm, that's not bad.

  Foley said, I know how to handle ghosts?

  You're good with spirits, but let's stay with Cundo. I want to tell you how you feel about him. You know he's a shifty guy, but there's something about him you like, his confidence, the way he struts. It's why you don't feel good about ripping him off especially if he won't know about it. We disappear in the night. But you think it's sneaky and you've never been a sneak. You're not even sure he'll try to hustle you, get you into some kind of action. Am I right?

  It sounds right, Foley said.

  Is robbing a bank much different?

  It's face-to-face.

  With the teller. 'Sweetheart, give me all your big bills, please.' Isn't that why you're there? For money. You're not robbing the bank because it's out to fuck up your life. Money, that's the only motive you need.

  You want me to look at this, Foley said, like it's a job, that's all.

  Exactly.

  I get him before he puts me to work?

  Before he comes up with a scheme to use you. It's why you're here, Jack, his houseguest.

  It wasn't yet clear to Foley how they'd work the job or how much they were after; he was counting on Dawn for the details. Getting his motive straightened out and what Dawn said about finding each other, that was enough for right now. The only other thing on Foley's mind:

  The one who's gonna fall in love with me what was her name in the movies?

  Danialle Tynan.

  Yeah? I've seen her. She wasn't bad.

  In the morning Foley came off the roof with Cundo's binoculars, down to the kitchen where D
awn was putting bread in the toaster. She glanced at him. You know who you're looking for?

  Strangers, Foley said.

  She said, Aren't they all strangers? Dawn wearing a navy T-shirt with BORN TO HOWL reversed across the front, the message the same color as her little white undies, Dawn's around-the-house costume, turning him on as she fixed breakfast.

  I was hoping, Foley said, I might see a guy with a haircut wearing a Brooks Brothers suit and tie strolling along the canal. It would get my attention.

  She said, He can't be working alone. I haven't thought about it, but I'll turn my magic on it if you want.

  I try to think like Lou Adams, Foley said. If he can't raise a posse of feds, who does he get to help him?

  Bad guys, Dawn said.

  That's what I came to, offenders he can lean on. Felons, threaten to bust 'em for strolling without a destination.

  Dawn said, looking to see if the bread was toasted enough,

  We have all kinds of boys in the hood living in Venice. Go over to the Oakwood Recreation Center, you can buy dope on the basketball court. The police just had a big raid there the other day, took a bunch of boys in.

  That's where you get your grass?

  I have it delivered.

  I saw a guy, Foley said, a Latino I took to be a gangbanger, except he's wearing a purple scarf tied on his head, a do-rag, and I thought, Purple, that's a mix of gang colors, red for the Bloods, blue for the Crips, the guy showing he's not partial to either one. I saw him in the alley, he's talking to some black kids, teenagers, and he's Latino. You understand what I'm saying? He's jiving these kids, messing with them and they think he's funny, they're all laughing. I'm wondering what's going on? They're suppose to be bustin' caps at each other.

  Dawn flipped up the toast, black, smoking, and threw it in the trash. She said, He might be an intervention worker.

  What do they do?

  Act like they're settling gang problems. They love the attention.

  This morning, Foley said, I saw the same guy coming along the walk by the canal. He stopped to talk to the maid next door, in the glass house.

  It's my favorite, Dawn said. The house is thirty feet wide and has a lap pool inside. She put two more slices of bread in the toaster. You saw the Latin guy talking to the maid. Then later you went over and asked her who he was.

  I said I thought I knew him but wasn't sure. She said his name's Vincent, but here he's called Tico.

  Because he's from Costa Rica, Dawn said.

  You must've got a message from the spirit world. You hear a voice saying, 'Hey, Dawn? In case you didn't know it, guys in Costa Rica are called Tico and the women Tica. You might be able to use it when you're being psychic.'

  She said, You know, I've never been to Costa Rica? I must have read about the Ticos and Ticas and stored it away. My poor head is crammed full of stuff, Jack, normal and paranormal all bunched together. I have to stop and think sometimes, where in the world did that come from? She turned to the toaster saying, So now you'll be watching for Tico from Costa Rica.

  If I see him again, Foley said, I'll have a word with him.

  He watched her flip up the toast, not quite as burnt as the first two, and look past her shoulder at him.

  You like your toast a little dark?

  Foley said, Thanks, I'll make my own.

  He was on the roof when the Bentley arrived, Foley wanting to have a look at Little Jimmy Rios before meeting him face-to-face. He watched the car pull up behind the garage. Watched a guy he took to be the bodyguard, a slim Latino in sunglasses, come out of the car and look around before opening Little Jimmy's door. Finally, there he was coming past the rear of the gunmetal gray Bentley.

  Only it wasn't the Little Jimmy Foley was expecting. In the color shots from the past that Dawn showed him, Little Jimmy was Al Pacino playing Tony Montana in Scarface. Little Jimmy in a white suit, shirt collar spread open, dark hair like Tony's down on his forehead. Today's Little Jimmy was into another style, a dark suit cut slim and buttoned up, the shirt collar high and stiff, not anything like Tony's, the pants narrow all the way down to a pair of polished crocodile loafers with Cuban heels.

  Foley had on a T-shirt, a pair of new Levi's that felt snug on him, and a pair of plain white Reeboks Adele had sent him more than a year ago. He reached the patio as Little Jimmy appeared, coming out of the walk that ran along the side of the house, Little Jimmy alone, the bodyguard left behind. Dawn was ready. She kissed Little Jimmy on the mouth and let her eyes melt on him before turning to Foley.

  Jack, this is my pal Little Jimmy, sometimes known as the Monk. Isn't he cute? Dyes his hair, but who doesn't. And this is Jack Foley, America's foremost bank robber, retired, who swears he'll never rob another one.

  Where'd she get that? In Foley's mind he was through with banks, but had never sworn to it. He stepped toward Jimmy Rios, the little dude posing now, hands turned around on his hips, fingers behind him, his shoulders slumped in a casual way, nothing to prove. Foley decided to start off liking him. Why not?

  He said, Jimmy, Dawn showed me a picture of you, it was when you were still in Florida, and I said, 'Jesus Christ, it's Tony Montana.' He watched Little Jimmy shake his head, tired of hearing it, but with a grin, so it was okay. He touched his hair, thick and black, parted and combed across his forehead and fixed with a tortoiseshell barrette behind his ear. Weird, but it didn't look bad on him. Foley said, I imagine you got tired of being taken for Tony.

  You right. Listen, Jimmy said, back then every guy I know thought he was Tony Montana. Even ones don't look like him want to sound like him. Tony says, 'All I got in this world are my balls and my word. I don't break them for nobody, choo understand?'

  Foley said, You're him, man, you're Tony, and said, 'Choo know I buried those cock-a-roaches.' How many times you see the picture?

  I use to say more than twenty times. Maybe I did, I don't know, till we become tired of it. I quit when I ask myself, you serious? Why you want to sound like that punk? He's stupid, don't even know why he fucked up.

  Dawn said she'd be pouring margaritas in the kitchen and left them. Little Jimmy watched her go in the house before turning to Foley.

  Talk to me about Cundo, how he's doing.

  He's the same. You'll see him the end of next week.

  Yes? How is his health?

  I've never heard him complain.

  What is he say about me? I been a good boy?

  He's proud of you, Foley said, that's why he looks out for you. You're his boy.

  That's what you think? I'm his boy?

  I didn't say it, he did. Cundo said he let you take over the businesses and you're doing a terrific job.

  He looks out for me he tole you that? He say he let me run the business? Like he knows any fucking thing about it?

  If you're running the show, Foley said, I hope he's paying you enough.

  You know how much he let me have, to live on?

  No, I don't. But he probably knows you're skimming on him. If he hasn't said anything it must be he expects you're taking a certain cut, so it's okay. I know he respects you, Foley said. He made sure I understood you're a hundred percent loyal and always do what you're told.

  Listen, the only thing he tole me, Little Jimmy said, outside of pay his bills, I have to take a blood oath, man, I will never leave him or cheat him or steal his money.

  What kind of blood oath?

  We make a cut in our hands, here, and press them together. Cundo say now we one, we family, I have to stay loyal to him always.

  What if you don't? He says something will happen to me. I could be run over by a truck.

  Or shot in the head, Foley thought, taking Little Jimmy through the house to the kitchen where Dawn was pouring martinis.

  My mind was changed for me, she said. No tequila, no margaritas. So I made a pitcher of silver bullets, Little Jimmy's favorite cocktail, and for my new friend, Jack Foley, my first bank robber.

  Little Jimmy said, You mean your n
ew lover, don't you? He hasn't done it to you by now he's mine, and raised his glass to Foley. Salud.

  Foley raised his. He watched Little Jimmy take a sip, smack his lips, slide the rest of the martini down and lower the glass, looking at Foley again.

  Your time with Cundo, you always live together?

  We were in different housing, Foley said, but we saw each other just about every day. Took walks around the yard. He needed someone and you were there. The only time I patted him on the ass, Foley said, was to get him to jog, run around the yard. He said, 'For what? I weigh one hundred twenty-eight pounds all my fucking life.' Foley said, I want you to know Cundo and I were friends inside

  And you owe him thirty grand, he tole me you don't have to pay it back.

  More than thirty, Foley said. But I won't ever tell him how you feel. You know why? I don't blame you.

  Yeah, he tole me to pay your lawyer. You know what else? Twenty-eight hundred to the hacks for favors. His five years at Starke I paid out almost ten grand for gifts. Two hundred dollars to a tailor at Glades. You believe it?

  That's how it is, Foley said, you're in the life and you don't pay up front for what you want? You don't get it. Cundo makes money inside selling juice and taking bets on the ball games. He makes it outside watching the real estate market, buying and selling homes, and thought Little Jimmy was having a stroke.

  You believe is his idea, a fucking go-go dancer? You think he knows anything of business, of real estate, different investment opportunities? No, with him is the sports book, the old guys working the phones. Is like he's back in Miami. I tell him on the phone how we doing. I say why don't we cut out being bookies? Stop trying to compete with Vegas and the online casinos, man. I tell him I think we should buy foreign stocks and watch the euro. I say, 'You like that idea?' You know what he say to me, very serious? 'You ever see a snake eat a bat?'

  He sold blow to movie stars, Foley said. Give him that.

  You know why they never took him to trial?

  They didn't want to burn their snitch.

  Tha's what he tole you? No, they not gonna waste their time if all they getting is me. I'm the one making deliveries. I'm in the kitchen rolling joints while he's entertaining movie stars. Choo know something? Listen, they could have put me away, but who the fuck am I? Waste a good snitch on me? They don't have enough to convict Cundo, so they send him to Florida where he can do life or be electrocuted, what they were thinking.