"Kendrick!"? And this time it was a shout.
The two dealers sat up and took notice.? Perhaps here came some of the family strife that was such a constant backdrop to the ghetto.? This was entertainment.? For two young men on the fast track to oblivion, this would be better than the lame, watered-down fare on television.? This was real-life, messy, often action-packed and bloody, and without any commercials.
The man turned around, his body moving as slowly as the glaciers.?
He was tall, a full head taller than Lola.? That was the first thing that sank in.? The next thing that sunk in was how horribly wasted he had become.? His shoulders were broad, and so had seemed to give some shape to the trench coat as it hung down.? But beneath that coat he wore a Milwaukee Brewers T-shirt and red sweat pants.? Both were ratty and had holes in them.? And he was skinny.? The T-shirt, which must have been a small or a medium, clung to a frame that had once worn extra large.? His navel showed at the bottom of it.? The clothes had probably come from a mission somewhere that gave out such clothes.? Summer clothes in the winter, winter clothes in the summer.? He wore old Air Jordan sneakers with no socks.
Sure, wearing somebody's cast-off sneakers.
He peered at her and she came closer.? Closer, she began to get the smell of him, the funk of days without a bath, of nights on benches in train and bus stations.? In the light of the street lamp she saw his rheumy bloodshot eyes and she saw that he trembled just slightly.? An old, closed scar ran under his chin.
It was Kendrick.? Times had caught up with him.?
"Lola?" he said, squinting just a bit now.? His voice was hardly more than a whisper.? "Lola."? The second time he said it with a nod to himself, as if the sudden appearance of Lola now confirmed everything, as if this was the final rung of his downfall.? He smiled a grim smile and showed the black spaces where some of his teeth once were.?
"We got you good, girl.? Stopped going to school and everything.? That's what they told me.? Never saw you on the street no more.? Yessir, we got to you good."
She dropped her bag, much like she had dropped her books four years before.? She stepped up, hands protecting her face, and gave him a front kick to the groin.? She didn't try to kick hard, she just concentrated and moved her body properly.? This generated more than enough force, coming out in a line from her torso, her buttocks and finally the big leg muscles above the knee.?
Kendrick melted to his hands and knees on the wet ground.? He coughed hard as if to clear his throat.?
Only a second had passed, maybe two.? Lola resumed her stance, then fired a roundhouse kick that caught the side of Kendrick's head.? He fell over sideways and sprawled half on the sidewalk, half on the muddy weeds and dog shit that bordered the sidewalk.
Behind Lola, one of the drug dealers whooped and hollered.
"You go, girl!? Bruce Lee, motherfucker.? She fucked that ass up!"
The two boys laughed.
And like that, the anger evaporated.? It was replaced by a calm and almost bitter disappointment.? She immediately understood that it was a feeling to which she would spend a long time reconciling, maybe the rest of her life.? For four years she had hated this bastard.? No, she had more than hated him.? He had become almost everything to her.? She had trained for the day when they would meet again and she would be ready for him.? She carried a carving knife in her bag in anticipation.? She imagined he would be the strong and arrogant and evil Kendrick that he was at eighteen, not this pitiful character, already the walking dead at twenty-two.? She imagined theirs would be an epic battle that would take all her energy to fight, and might take both their lives.? Her identity, her life had become defined in relation to this man and what he had done.? Her revenge had become her obsession.
And here she was, standing over him.? But the victory was far from sweet. ?The ghetto had taken her revenge long before she ever got there.? If she wanted to kill Kendrick, she would have to spend six months cleaning him up first, feeding him, keeping him off drugs, buildings up his wasted muscles.? Otherwise it wouldn't mean anything.?
Kendrick's breaths came in rasps.? He was down and out, as far down as most people get without being dead.? Drug-addicted, weak, cold, and now laying in the mud after a swift beat down from a woman wronged.? It was a long walk back, and Lola knew that when someone had come this far, they didn't even try to make that walk.? It was too damned far.?
"Bitch," Kendrick said in that same hoarse voice.? "Bitch."? Lola looked closer and saw he was crying.? She thought about spitting on him, for old time's sake, but she couldn't even bring herself to do that.? Everything had once again been stolen from her.? She picked up her bag and continued on her way.
When she was half a block away, she turned around to see if Kendrick had managed to get up yet.? He hadn't.? He was on all fours on the wide, glistening sidewalk.? Like circling vultures, the two boys had moved in after she was gone.? When a man was down, a man was down.? The law of the jungle prevailed.? They took turns kicking him and jumping up and down on his carcass.???
From where she stood, their laughter was carried to her on the breeze.? It was the laughter of childhood.? In another time and place, two boys might laugh like that on their way down to the creek to go fishing.?
It was time to go home.?
?
??
* * *
?
Smoke arrived at the apartment knowing how late he was.?
It was full dark.? He parked his little Toyota half a block down from the apartment.? He killed the headlights, then waited and watched.? No one was moving on the street.? TV lights flickered from homes on his left and his right.? His sense of dread was so complete that he felt he might vomit.? All along, he had made mistakes, and now it had probably cost Lola and Pamela their lives.? He should have told Lola long ago about his life before now.? Scratch that - he shouldn't have become involved with Lola, or anyone.
A breeze kicked up and the trees along the street creaked and swayed.? Shadows moved.? A young couple, bundled up and leaning on each other, laughed together as they walked along the sidewalk.???
He had killed the kid without thinking of the fallout.? It had been an instinct.? Kill the kid.? Kill them all.? Get away.? But of course he hadn't been able to kill them all.? That big guy, Moss, it would be hard to kill a guy like that.?
He should have let them take him in - maybe he could've escaped some other way.? Lola's death was a horrible price to pay for his own life.
He had been unable to go back to the apartment - the neighborhood was crawling with cops and firemen.? His car was around the corner, so he had simply climbed in and driven off-you mention earlier that he had to go back and get his car. It's a little confusing as written.? He didn't know when he would go back there.? So the long and the short of it was he couldn't pick up his guns.? They were trapped in the apartment.? In the old days, he had loathed guns, but over time he had made a certain peace with them.? Since he had been on the run, he had kept three of them.? Two, fully loaded, safeties off, hidden in the apartment, and one small two-shot derringer here in the car, tucked away under the driver's seat.?
At least he had the derringer - the Bond Arms Cowboy Defender.? He held it in his big hand.? Five inches long in total, with three-inch, over-under barrels.? It was so small that it looked almost like a toy cigarette lighter.? But it packed a wallop.? It fired two .45 rounds, and was fully loaded.? The barrel was so short that the gun was useless except for the most up-close fighting.? That's why he kept it in the car.? You couldn't hit the side of a barn with it if the barn was more than ten yards away, but if somebody was sitting in the car with you, or standing right in front of you, you might just kill them.? He thought of Moss again.? He looked at the tiny Derringer in his hand.
Jesus.?
He climbed out of the car and moved slowly toward the building, limping, gun palmed in his hand.? He could palm the fucking thing, like they used to do to hide their cigarettes from adults when he was nine years old.? D
espite the chill of autumn in the air, beads of sweat ran down the back of his neck.? He had incinerated their friend, so God only knew what they had done to his friends.
Unless, of course, they were still up there, laying in wait for him.? He had called the apartment again, and had gotten only a busy signal, but that didn't mean anything.? They could be sitting there in the living room, waiting for him to walk in.? Or lurking in the stairwell along the empty second floor.
Well, fuck it.? If he was going down, he was going down shooting.???
He reached the building.? The old man was home downstairs, playing his violin.? The haunting beauty of the music seemed to come from a world other than the one Smoke inhabited.? Looking around, up and down the street, he entered the building.?
Nobody was in the bottom hallway.?
The overhead light was on.? He reached up and smashed it out with the gun.? The small crash of the bulb breaking didn't disturb the violin in the least.? Smoke ventured up the narrow stairs into the gloom of the second floor.? He tried not to let the ancient wood creak.? It was ridiculous.? If they came now, he would be doomed.? Then again better they come for him than kill Lola.? He stopped trying to hide himself.?
He reached the second floor landing, and hobbled along until he reached the bottom of the stairs to the third floor.? He peered up.? The door was closed.? There was no sound up there.? He climbed the stairs.?
The door was unlocked.? He walked in.?
Nobody here.?
He could feel the apartment's emptiness.? The light in the bathroom was on, throwing shadows through the living room.? The coffee table in there had collapsed, as though someone had fallen on top of it.? That was the only sign of struggle he could see.
He stood for a moment, holding his breath, looking and listening.
No sound, except from below.? Far away, the strains of the violin.?
He settled onto one of the dining room chairs.? His breath came out in a long, low groan.? Okay.? He had come this far.? Now he would take a moment, gather his emotions, and then search the rest of the apartment.? If anyone was here, they were dead.
I'm so sorry, Lola.???
The phone was on the floor.? He stood, picked up the receiver, and placed it back in the cradle hanging on the kitchen wall.?
It started ringing.?
Smoke jumped so high he nearly banged his head against the low ceiling.
Two rings.? Three rings.? He stood and watched it ring.? He picked it up just before the answering machine.
"Hello?"
"Dugan?" the voice said.? It was Cruz.? It had to be.???
"Yes."
"Are you alone?"
"Yes."
"Good.? I was wondering when you were going to finally get there.? That was some job you pulled with the kid.? It's not going to make this any easier on anybody."
Smoke swallowed.? "I understand that."
The voice went on.? "Your friend is here with us.? Okay?? Other than that, we don't have much to talk about."
"There's no reason for her to be involved."
"Well, sure, I agree with that.? But you involved her.? Okay?"
"Okay."
The little man went on.? "The other one, too.? The roommate."
"Was she here?"
"Oh, yeah."
Smoke nearly choked.? "Where is she now?"?
Cruz said nothing.? He didn't even answer.? Smoke had dealt with men like this for most of his life.? They were fucking animals.? They had no reason to keep Pamela alive.? No reason at all.???
"Where is she?" Smoke repeated.
"See if you can find her."
Fuck.
"So it seems like the thing for you to do is to get moving.? That place is going to get pretty hot by tomorrow, if not later tonight.? I don't think your friend here wants you to see that kind of heat, you know?"
Smoke knew.? Sooner or later, the explosion at his apartment, combined with the death of the kid and Smoke's disappearance, would lead the cops here to Lola's place.? In fact, sooner or later the cops were going to find out that there was no Smoke Dugan.? Probably sooner rather than later.? They were going to take some prints in that apartment and find out that Smoke Dugan was actually Walter O'Malley, convicted felon from thirty years ago.? Shit.? He needed some time before the police came down on him.? The last thing he needed was to get picked up by the cops.? Getting picked up by the cops was worse than getting picked up by Cruz.? They'd kill Lola and then get him in jail.?
Cruz went on.? "Do me a favor, all right?? We need a place to meet, a public type place, a crowded restaurant, say.? We're there, you walk in, sit down at our table, your friend gets up and walks out.? And we need to know where you'll be staying tonight, a place we can reach you.? Got any ideas?? We're open to ideas right now.? Ways we can make this happen without too much pain."
"There's a Best Western in South Portland," Smoke heard himself say.? "It's a motel right by an exit off the highway.? There's a big restaurant there, Governor's, a lot of people go there for breakfast."
"Yeah?? How's the food?"
"You eat eggs?? Bacon?? It's a buffet."
"Okay, that sounds good.? Best Western, South Portland.? Governor's Restaurant."? There was a pause as Smoke imagined Cruz writing this down on a napkin or an envelope.? "Your friend know how to get there?"
"Sure."
"Okay, then.? Take a room at the Best Western.? We'll contact you there tomorrow, or maybe later tonight.? You won't know.? If you're not there when we call, I guess you know what happens.? The deal will be off.? The trade won't happen.? Do you know what I mean?"
"I do."? The trade was Smoke for Lola.? That's what they were offering.? "Is the trade for both of them?"
"Sure, if you like."
It didn't sound right.? He didn't know whether to believe them or not.? Lola and Pamela could both be dead already.
"Put her on the phone."
"Who's that?"
"You know."
"Tomorrow."
Smoke shook his head, as though Cruz could see that.? "Not tomorrow, now."?
"Okay, that's enough chat.? Never know who's listening nowadays.? Do me that little favor I mentioned, will you?? Wouldn't want anything to get in the way."
Smoke was about to say something else.?
The line went dead.
He stood there with the phone in his hand for several minutes.? Out the back window, and far away, a boat went by on the dark water.? He couldn't see the boat at all.? He could tell it was there by the red running light at its stern.?
The phone started buzzing violently.? "If you'd like to make a call," a robot woman said.? "Please hang up and try again.? If you'd like to make a call?"
Smoke hung up.?
Shit.
He walked through the rooms absently, checking out the rest of the apartment.? Shadows loomed all around him.? No one was here.? Pamela wasn't here.? Whatever they had done with her, they hadn't left her behind.
He went into Lola's room and the life-size poster of the black tennis player startled him.? It hung there over the bed, accusing him.? You murdered her.? You did it.? There was nothing he could say in his defense.?
He kept an extra cane here at the apartment.? He rooted around in the closet and found it at the back, behind a pile of clothes.? That, at least was something.
He went back into the dining area and sat down again.
Smoke looked at the cane in his hands.? It was knobby wood, more of a walking stick than a cane.? Along its shaft was a button, camouflaged to look like a part of the cane itself.? You'd have to look closely to even notice it.?
Hell, you'd have to know it was there.?
He pressed the button and the bottom twelve inches of the cane detached and fell off.? A sharp stiletto spike six inches long protruded from the end of the shaft that he held.? A solid jab with that would piece anyone's heart, even big, bad Moss.
Smoke looked at his large workman's hands.?
He had the s
trength.? He could do it.
?
* * *
?
"You see, I don't often hit girls," Moss was saying.? "I don't like doing it."?
They were driving north along Interstate 95, Moss's big hands gripping the wheel.? All around them, the darkness had closed in.? Cruz marveled at how the city simply ended and the country began.? There was nothing to see out here but trees.? It was like driving off a cliff into complete darkness.?
Well, they'd let all that smoke clear back there, and hide the girls somewhere Dugan couldn't try to get at them.? In the morning, they could go and collect Dugan, provided the cops hadn't already done so.? Or they could make Dugan wait a little while.? Fear him up that they were going to kill his girls.???
In fact, Cruz wasn't sure what to do next.?
He thought of the money again.?
How many times?? How many times had he put down someone who thought they could run?? Too many.? No amount of money was enough.? Certainly not a couple mil.?
He glanced sidelong at Moss.? That thick, solid skull.? It wouldn't stop a bullet.
Would it?
"So," Moss said.? "You know, the girl is kicking me and hitting me, and I'm not fighting back."? He shrugged.? "You know?"
Cruz lit a cigarette.? "I know.? But you think we ought to shoot this other one."
Moss looked at him.? "Don't you?"
It was Cruz's turn to shrug.??
"Anyway, it's one thing to hit a girl," Moss said.? "It's another thing to shoot somebody.? Shooting's easier."
"Very true."
A half-hour passed, each lost in his own thoughts.? They got off the highway and cruised slowly down the dark and quiet exit ramp and along a feeder road.? There was not another car on the road.? They turned at an intersection, empty except for a hanging streetlight that blinked red in all four directions.? The area was deserted this late in the tourist season.? The road ahead was winding, two lane blacktop.? Moss drove along between dense stands of forest.? Cruz wasn't sure what he was looking for - he figured he'd know it when he saw it.?
And see it he did.?
"There," he said.? "Stop in there."
A sign said: COUNTRY HOME MOTEL & COTTAGES - Open Through Thanksgiving.
A long winding driveway led up from the road to the motel compound.
"Let's go up there and see if it's quiet."
?
CHAPTER FIVE
It was indeed quiet.?