Jimmy Cap said, "Tommy's problem -- don't tell him I said this -- he's a Zip, pure Sicilian. That's why he's so fucking serious all the time. I tell him, 'Hey, try to kick back.' He don't know what I'm talking about."
"See, the thing is," Nicky said, "if it'd been up to me I'd've had the colored guy tell me where Harry lived and I'd've gone to his house and whacked him out. Like you asked me one time what would I do to that gas station guy owed you money? It's none of my business but I happened to hear you talking to the Zip a while ago about Harry, saying forget about him, Harry's more trouble than he's worth. And the Zip says you made a deal? He whacks out Harry he gets to run the sports book, so he's holding you to it. You don't mind my saying, I think you got a problem there. You give him the sports book, what's he gonna want next? A guy like him, he don't do what you tell him, what do you need him for?" Gloria said to Nicky, "I can see you taking care of Tommy." Jimmy Cap said to Gloria, "Who the fuck asked you?"
The Zip, wearing one of his beige double-breasted suits today, stood in the lanai, the open-air sitting room off the patio. He watched Nicky come up out of the Jacuzzi, turn and reach down to give Jimmy Cap a hand, popping his biceps to haul that 350 pounds of fat out of the water. Christ, naked, the guy all belly. Next came Gloria, topless; she picked up a towel and tied it around her like a sarong, covering her jugs. Now Jimmy was talking to her; he seemed upset, making a big deal out of something or other and now she was taking the towel off, handing it to him. He took it but didn't seem to want that towel. He threw it aside and it went in the pool. Now the asshole with muscle was saying something to him. Jimmy Cap shook his head, put his hand on the asshole's shoulder and said something to Gloria. She picked up her bra and came this way putting it on.
The Zip waited, pretending to look out at the view, the Fontainebleau and Eden Roc over on the other side of Indian Creek. As she came past him hooking her bra, he said, "What's the problem?"
"He wants his own towel."
"I understand he hasn't seen his dick since he weighed two hundred pounds."
Gloria said, "He hasn't missed anything," and kept going.
The Zip said, "Hey, come here. Wait a minute."
She stopped and stood looking past her shoulder at him, giving him her profile.
"What were you having out there, a meeting?"
"Trying to decide," Gloria said, "if Nicky's a stronzo or a testa di cazzo," giving the Zip her idea of an accent.
He seemed to like it. He said, "You know any more words?"
Gloria said, "No, but I learn fast."
Joyce sat in the dark staring at the front windows. It was going on seven when Harry called.
She said, "You've been drinking."
"I have, as a matter of fact."
"All day?"
"More like fifty years. Why?"
She didn't hear resentment in his tone; that was a plus. But then had to give himself permission, a reason to drink, telling her:
"I'm a little edgy being stuck here. I needed something and that Xanax puts me to sleep. Torres came by. He said you called him."
"To see if he'd heard anything."
"He said you're worried about Raylan. I said, 'What about me? I'm the one they want.'"
"I'm worried about you too," Joyce said.
"Thanks. I asked Torres for a little protection, since it's not my fault somebody wants to kill me, for Christ sake. He says he'll have a squad car keep an eye on the hotel. Like these guys would come in with signs on them saying who they are. He says they'll be ready to respond, in case. That's supposed to be reassuring. And you ask me why I'm having a drink?"
"If you keep it up," Joyce said, "you'll end up doing something dumb. You know that."
"I'll tell you the worst," Harry said, "was one time when I blacked out. I wake up on a plane and have no idea in the world where we're going. I'm thinking, How do I ask the stew without sounding like an idiot? I'm sitting in first class, I have just a Perrier, I don't want to take a chance, maybe black out again. I get in a conversation with the woman next to me about something, I think the movie that was coming on. I know I have to ask her. So I say right out of the blue, This may sound like a stupid question, but would you mind telling me where we're going?' She gives me this look and says, 'Vegas,' like, where do you think we're going."
Joyce said, "Harry, I was with you."
It stopped him for a moment. He said, "You're right, you were the woman, huh?" He said, "You were wearing your hair different then."
She saw the headlights outside moving south on Meridian, creeping along looking for a number, making a U-turn now to pull up in front of the terrace apartments. It was about seven-thirty. Joyce watched from the dark living room. As soon as the figure was out of the car she jumped up and ran to open the front door and wait for the man coming up the walk in a dark suit and a hat like the one Harry Truman used to wear. Joyce put her arms out. He came into them not saying a word.
Chapter Twenty-Four.
Maybe he would tell her sometime how all the way back across the Atlantic Ocean he thought about her, couldn't wait to see her again, and how much he'd wanted to kiss her when she drove off with Harry and how much he still wanted to but didn't know if he should, thinking: What if he was wrong about the way she seemed to look at him? What if she thought he was dumb? What if, even though Harry was old enough to be her dad, she still liked him? All that. What if after flashing his star through Immigration and Customs and racing over here, she wasn't home?
She was though. And the way they started kissing each other on the front porch in the dark and some more inside the house, like they couldn't get enough of each other, he wondered how he could've had any doubts. He might tell her about them later, let her know how he felt. There were other things to tell her first. Beginning with Robert Gee.
"The Zip said, 'Shoot him,' and the young guy, Nicky, said, 'Right here?' I think he wanted to, but he couldn't just, you know, do it like that; he wasn't ready. So the Zip shot him. The way he did it I guess there wasn't any need for him to get ready. He just looked over, shot Robert twice in the chest, and put the gun back on me and said, 'Where'd they go?' I told him the same thing I'd told him before. You were gone, so I had no reason to lie. I think he realized I was telling the truth and it stopped him. So right then the young guy, Nicky, says, 'This one's mine.' Meaning me. The Zip acted surprised then, putting it on. He said something about Nicky had told him before he was going to shoot me but didn't. The Zip says, 'Now you're ready to do it, is that right? Now that he doesn't have a gun? What if I give him mine? You still think you can kill him?' See, what it was, the Zip had no respect for Nicky, so he wouldn't let him shoot me."
Joyce said, "If Nicky had shot Robert when he was told..."
"You're right, it would've been different."
"They just let you go?"
"I think it was like wanting to show he had power over me. He could kill a man in front of my eyes and let me go and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. They walked out of the room.... I still didn't know what was going to happen. I looked at Robert, didn't find a pulse. I went down the hall knocking on doors, but none of them opened. It wasn't till I was outside I knew for sure they were letting me go. I went to a police station, identified myself, and told them a man had been murdered. It took them an hour to decide I might be telling the truth, but then had to phone Washington, D. C., and check up on me. So by the time we got to the apartment house the Zip's guys were still around but Robert's body was gone, as I knew it would be. I told the police to forget it, we'd settle it when we got home."
Joyce said, "But you can't charge him with it here." Sounding surprised.
Raylan said, "No, we can't."
She looked at him for a time and said, "I don't know you, do I?"
What was there to tell? They got comfortable with drinks to sip, a lamp on now. Raylan said, "I grew up in coal camps, chewed tobacco when I was twelve. Went to Evarts High and played football, our archrival being the Harlan
Green Dragons. What else you want to know? I've worked deep mines, wildcat mines -- abandoned ones where you go back in and scratch for any coal left -- and I've stripped."
"So have I," Joyce said.
"Pardon me?"
"Never mind."
"Stripping we'd cut the top off a hill and dig out the coal, mess up the countryside.... My mom put her foot down, wouldn't let me work for those people. Let's see, I walked a picket line over a year when we struck Duke Power. Learned about company gun thugs. During that same time my dad died of black lung and high blood pressure. My mom said, 'That's enough.' Her brother was shot and killed during the strike. We picked up and moved to Detroit, Michigan. I went to Wayne State University, graduated, and joined the Marshals Service. What else you want to know?"
"Two boys, I wanted to call the first one Hank and the next one George, after Hank Williams and George Jones, old Possum, the greatest country singers that ever were. See, we'd agreed each time that if it was a boy, I'd name him, and if it was a girl, then Winona'd pick the name. But when the babies were born, Winona got her way as usual and named them Ricky and Randy. I attended the same church back home as the one where George Jones learned to sing, Assembly of God? I mean the same denomination. His church was in eastern Texas, the Big Thicket country, and mine was over in eastern Kentucky. Winona, if she had a girl, was going to call her Piper, Tammy, or Loretta. Her favorite song was Loretta Lynn's 'Don't Come Home A-Drinkin' with Lovin' on Your Mind.' I don't know why, 'cause it wasn't something I ever did."
Joyce said, "You know what happens when you play a country tune backwards? You get your girl and your truck back, you're not drunk anymore and your hound dog comes back to life." She said, "I was born in Nashville."
He wanted to know why she hadn't told him and asked if she'd ever been to the Ryman Auditorium and Tootsie's Orchid Lounge. It seemed important to him. Joyce was sorry to have to tell him they'd moved when she was two: first to Dallas, then Oklahoma City, then Little Rock and then here. She said her dad sold cars, any kind, and drank; her mom smoked and played cards and neither one was still living. Raylan asked if she was a religious person. Joyce said she seemed to be doing okay and hadn't yet felt the need. She said, "Are we going to tell everything there is to know about each other the first time we've sat down without looking out the window, waiting for something awful to happen? I guess we're still waiting, but taking time out and getting things said, is that it? Making up for lost time? You want to know what my favorite color is? What vegetables I hate? I won't eat stewed tomatoes. I like rock and roll, short of heavy-metal head banging. The highlight of my life happened almost twenty-five years ago: I went to Woodstock, I was there with all those people in the rain, the mud, nothing to eat, and at the time didn't think it was much fun. I was married once, I told you that. Patton is my maiden name, I never gave it up. I went to the University of Miami three years, majored in psychology, and I worked as a stripper for three years in topless bars in Miami, but not the grungy joints. I never took off my G-string or did private parties or got hooked on dope or got pregnant or had an abortion. What else do you want to know?"
There was a silence till Raylan said, "What're you mad at?" He touched her face, laying the palm of his hand very gently on her cheek.
Harry said, "You hear that?"
"I sure did," Joyce said. "Right in my ear."
"I dropped the goddamn phone."
"Are you okay?"
"Am I okay?"
"That's not a hard question, Harry."
"You mean outside of being stuck here, not knowing what's going to happen to me or when? Yeah, I'm just great. How're you doing?"
"I'm worried about you."
"Is that right? Torres said you were worried about Raylan, but didn't know if you were worried about me or not."
"We covered that the last time you called."
"We did? Come over and keep me company, allay my apprehensions."
"Harry, you're drinking again. That's what I'm worried about. You're right back where you left off."
"Come over and I'll quit."
"You're acting like a child."
"Come over and I'll grow up right before your eyes. I'm starting to feel horny."
"I'm not coming, Harry."
"Why not?"
"I'm in bed."
"It's only -- it's not even ten o'clock."
"I'm tired. Why don't we talk tomorrow?"
"Raylan's home," Harry said. When he paused, Joyce kept quiet. "I thought you'd want to know. Torres called, he's been checking with Immigration at the airport. That's how he found out the Zip was home. They said Raylan Givens arrived on a British Air flight around six. So he made it. I knew he would; they're after me, not him." Harry paused. "I tried calling him just now but there was no answer." Harry paused again. "He gave me his number that time he was watching over me. He said if I had the least suspicion anything was wrong I was to call him. Even if there was another marshal downstairs in the lobby. I thought that was kind of odd."
"Harry, let's talk tomorrow, okay?"
"You haven't heard from him, have you?"
She said, "Who, Raylan?" lying on her back staring at the ceiling.
Harry said, "I listened to him and came home and where am I? Worse off than before. I shouldn't have let him talk me into it."
"He didn't. You had no other choice."
"I could've gone somewhere else. I could've gone to Africa. I could've gone to the French Riviera. Paris."
"Harry, I'll call you tomorrow."
"You promise? What time?"
"I don't know, in the morning sometime." She said, "Good night, Harry," reached over to replace the phone, and rolled back to Raylan's face on the pillow, watching her.
"Why didn't I tell him you're here?"
"You feel sorry for him. He's alone, he's scared."
"He's doing it to himself."
"Not all of it."
"He's using it as an excuse to drink. Being stuck there, not knowing what's going to happen. The police won't help."
"I could hear what he was saying. You want to go see him?"
"Tomorrow."
"He's blaming me, huh?"
"He's drunk."
"Yeah, but he has a point. Bringing him home didn't help any."
"What will?"
"Maybe if I have a talk with those boys."
Chapter Twenty-five.
Gloria heard him grunt and then gasp, you'd think in agony, the air going out of him, and felt his belly collapse on her hips, Christ, her kidneys, Gloria on her hands and knees in the king-size bed -- the only way they could make contact -- Gloria terrified that if her arms gave out with Jimmy on top of her she would suffocate beneath his mass of flesh and he wouldn't find out she was dead until he rolled off, if then. She said, "Oh, God, don't, please." She said, "Honey? Don't go to sleep on me, okay? Please?" Her arms shaking, losing strength. She said, "Honey?" And screamed at the pillow, "God, will you get off me!"
It worked. He slipped off and rolled and she scrambled against the sagging mattress to get out of there and make it to the bathroom arching her back, moving her head from shoulder to shoulder, having lived through another life-threatening experience, nap time with Jimmy Cap. Maybe there wouldn't be too many more. She wanted to take a shower and wash her hair, but was meeting the Zip in a half hour and had to hurry.
Gloria returned to the bed with a glass of water for Jimmy, part of the ritual. After that he might snort a few lines off the bedside table and want to go again. She hurried to get into her panties.
"What're you doing?"
"I'm getting dressed." And picked up her white shorts from the chair.
"I want to talk to you. Get your advice on something."
"The last time I told you what I thought you go, 'Who the fuck asked you?'"
"'Cause I didn't ask you that time. Okay, now I am. You see the difference?"
She had the shorts on. "What do you want to know?"
"Where you going?"
"I promised my mom I'd stop by."
"Tell me what you think of Joe Macho."
"Nicky? What do you mean, what I think of him?"
"Is he all mouth or what?"
"How would I know?"
"What's he say about Tommy?"
"Not much. He doesn't like him. Even less than before, since they got back."
"You know what Nicky calls him, the Zip. Yesterday we're in the Jacuze talking?"
"I was there."
"I know you were. Nicky says Tommy says things about me? You ever hear him?"
"Who, Tommy? I don't think so."
"You never talk to him?"
"Hardly ever."
"You hear Nicky? He says I should watch him. Says if Tommy gets the sports book, what's he gonna want next?"
Gloria said, "Yeah?" pulling a black T-shirt over her head.
"He says what do I need him for?"
"You mean like fire him?"
Jimmy Cap smiled at her. He very seldom did that and it surprised her.
"No, he don't mean like fire him, he means like whack him, take him out, get rid of him. For my own good."
"Yeah?"
"Nicky wants to do it, whack him out. You know, you didn't hear that word so much till I read John Gotti uses it all the time. Or he used to. 'Whack him,' and it became popular again."
Gloria stood looking at the soles of Jimmy Cap's feet, his belly rising from the white spread covering the bed and behind the belly, peeking over it, his head propped against pillows.
"Nicky's serious?"
"Every once in a while."
"I can't see him doing it."
"Me neither. Nicky's more for having around, pick up a pizza, carry your suitcases. The trouble is," Jimmy said, "I don't have a guy right now, outside of Tommy, who I know is any good at it. I don't know why, but you just don't find the kind of guys today you used to. I mean white guys who want to do that kind of work. Latins and colored guys, shit, you can get all of them you want. It's like in pro sports today, you know it? The same thing."
He was smiling at her again.
"You ever consider that line of work?"
"What?"
"Whacking guys. There's good money in it."