Hatch’s eyes began to water.
Why you cryin?
He did not answer. You turned to see Lula Mae giving chase with a switch.
SUNLIGHT AROUSED JESUS from sleep. He pushed himself upright on the couch, and sat there, groggy, trying to clear his head against the growing hum of morning traffic.
Damn! His flesh luminous with heat. His feet cold. He looked down at them. No shoes. He could see No Face, fuzzy, cloudy, dim. No Face! he screamed.
No Face’s black eye patch glowed like the barrel hole of a fired gun. I be dog. We fell asleep.
Nigga, what the fuck!
Some powerful shit. No Face’s head hung suspended between his knees, a heavy balloon.
Every inch of Jesus’s skin was alive, seeing, watching himself move in a dream. Bitch, what did you put in that weed? Jesus grabbed No Face by his collar and jerked him to his feet.
Nuthin. Somebody had stuck a red moon and a black moon in his face where the eyes should be. I told you I—
You can get hurt like that, seriously hurt. Hardly getting the words out, throat clogged with hate, each word anger-clotted.
But—
Jesus shoved him back on the couch. The sunlight scorched Jesus’s socked-but-shoeless feet. Where my goddamn shoes? Once again he snatched No Face up from the couch.
No Face pointed. Red color began to bleed from his eye. He adjusted his black patch. Over there. By the couch. Jesus pushed No Face down like crumbs off of a table. Mamma musta put them over there while—
Jesus quickly shoved his warm shoes on his feet. I ain’t never heard of no Buddha making nobody sleep like that. Pass out. He checked his pockets. Found everything in order. I mean, it’s tomorrow already. I mean. He sat down on the couch.
The pipe on the coffee table had been cleaned of ashes.
I be dog.
Where’d you get that shit?
From Keylo. He musta gave me some of that crazy shit. Whacked. Nigga always be jokin around.
You lucky I don’t … Jesus rested the words.
It’s cool, No Face said. We’re cool. Hey, you wanna watch some TV?
No.
We can watch some.
Bitch, do it look like I watch TV?
No Face studied the words, magnified them under the lens of his one eye. Well, what you wanna do?
Jesus felt a hole in his stomach, growing and spreading. His hands ran an orbit around his belly. Got anything to eat?
Sure.
He followed No Face to the refrigerator. Watched him open it. Almost threw up when he saw old cooking grease inside a mason jar, brown and gray like a rotting limb.
See anything you want? If you don’t, we go down to Mamma Henry’s house. She keep our meat in her freezer. And Mamma—
I know, Jesus said. I can’t wait.
They took out some leftover meat loaf and ate it cold and fast, then drank milk, right from the gallon jug, sharing swigs until the plastic container was whistle-empty.
You can take a shower. No Face’s anxious eye watched Jesus. I got some clothes you can wear. We go shoot some hoop.
Jesus looked at him. You lucky to be alive.
No Face directed his good eye somewhere else.
Real lucky.
Look. The eye returned. I got some of my own shit.
I don’t wanna try no mo of yo shit. I mean—
You don’t know me from Adam. I told you, that wasn’t mine. Keylo gave me that. Look, I’ll take you to my kitty so we can smoke us some real—
Nawl. I don’t wanna smoke no mo.
Cool.
You lucky to be alive.
We can pick up some oysters.
What?
Oysters. Wit hot sauce.
That’s what you like?
That’s what I like.
Funny. Spokesman used to eat that.
Who?
Never mind. Jus somebody from back in the day. You don’t know him.
So why—
It’s cool. You can eat. I’ll watch.
I ain’t hungry. Let’s shoot some hoop.
Some hoop?
Yeah, you know. No Face curved his wrist in a mock shot.
Well—
What’s wrong? You don’t want to?
I don’t care. I’ll whup yo ass in a game or two.
Follow me.
They squeezed through a narrow neck of doorway, then hurried to the elevator, which began to lower like a rusty bucket. The walls came rushing in and Jesus had to fight the urge to extend his arms in defense. The elevator opened into a dark vestibule. No Face miscalculated the height of the vestibule step and tripped out into the day. Jesus blinked forth upon the sky.
Hey, boys. Give you five dollars if you can tell me what kind of bird this is. The words emerged from pitch blackness, a dark niche cut deep in the building’s brick. A face, then a body — blue overalls with dirty suspenders, parachute straps — pushed into the light, fist holding the groin. A janitor, Jesus thought. He’s a janitor, cleaning up after this nigga trash. He saw Jesus looking at him. Flicked his tongue fast and dirty.
Damn, No Face said. You see that? He a stone-cold freak.
You can get hurt that way, old man, Jesus said.
The janitor cupped his hand over his ear. What? What you say?
Hurt.
And I can get hurt getting out of the bathtub too.
Jesus turned up the heat in his eyes, red coals. The janitor winked at him. Dushan, the janitor said to No Face.
No Face did not answer.
Tell yo mamma I be up there to see her later.
Damn, Jesus said. You gon take that shit?
Aw, man, he can’t sweat me. No Face waits a beat, watching Jesus.
Nigga, he talkin bout yo mamma.
You don’t know me from Adam. He ain’t nobody. That’s Redtail.
Who?
Redtail.
What kind of name is that?
Well, his real name is Roscoe. Roscoe Lipton.
He yall janitor?
The superintendent.
A janitor.
Yeah.
Don’t see how he can be nobody’s janitor. Too fuckin ole. Nigga can hardly move.
Crazy too. Nigga be feedin rats and shit. Feedin em.
What?
Word.
Jesus shook his head.
I know. But guess what?
What?
He used to be a pilot.
What?
A pilot.
You mean an airplane?
Yeah.
Jesus tried to picture the old drunk in a cockpit. What he do, fly a bottle round his lips?
Nawl, in a war. Warplane. Flying Tiger. Hell from Heaven. He changed some enemies too.
That old drunk motherfucker?
Yeah.
He can’t change his dirty draws.
He did.
Musta been a long time ago.
Yeah. Old nigga can’t even hear.
I can tell that. So that was why he did it, covered his deaf ear and cupped his good one.
But he hear good nough to hear what he shouldn hear.
What?
He a transformer.
Jesus considered the possibility of this.
You do something, and he can’t wait to snitch. Hey, he might even snitch on you.
Jesus looked at No Face.
Round here, he gotta watch his back. I almost changed that nigga a few times myself.
I bet. He walk like you. He talk like you. He yo daddy?
No Face watched — one red eye — Jesus hard for a stocktaking moment.
They began their journey. Above the river, a gull white-winged along a wave. A hang-tailed hound sat tough beside a garbage can until No Face roused it with a speeding stone. A ragtop speeded past, but slow enough for Jesus to be momentarily blinded by a flash of hand signals.
Trey Deuces, No Face said.