See, Lucifer, everything is fine. That’s just John. His way of doing things. Ease your mind.
I can now.
Good. Look, I’ve got to fly to the city tomorrow for the concert.
So soon?
Need to prepare. Why don’t you spend the night here and fly back with me in the morning.
Thanks for the offer.
Here are some tickets for your family.
Thanks.
Tell Hatch to drop backstage after the show.
Spin’s words played inside Lucifer. He could wait no longer. He pressed the buzzer. An airplane roared by overhead. Lucifer searched the sky. Clear. Lucifer pressed the buzzer a second time. Another airplane roared by.
A wired voice cut through the sonic noise, Say your say.
It’s Lucifer Jones. Lucifer spoke directly into a little black speaker. I’m here to see Spin.
Say your say.
It’s Lucifer Jones. He spoke louder this time, shouting, lips close to the speaker. I’m Lucifer — He caught himself. He gave the password.
The voice laughed.
Lucifer gave the password again.
34
POOL, YOU TALK IN YOUR SLEEP.
Hatch was remembering the night before. Pool had talked the whole night—Martha, park over there. I told you to park over there. Now park over here and see what happens—while his chest rode the crest of a snore. Hatch tossed and turned. Maybe the flood entered my dreams. Spotted sleep. The unrest was still in him.
Yeah, I know. Pool spoke from the small cave of kitchen, the room awash with cigarette smoke where Hatch sat. Hope Pool don’t fire up another one. And still dark from the previous night. But you couldn’t make heads or tails of it, now could you?
Yes, I could. You was talkin bout how much you wanted your wife and how much you loved Lee.
Pool laughed. Now I know you lyin.
Hatch shared the laugh.
Seated on the high stool, Pool worked his invisible hands in the metal sink. I got to do some serious cookin today.
Pool, you like to cook.
The hell if I do. I learned from my grandmother. She put me in the kitchen and made me cook. Didn’t have to show me nothing. When you have to eat your own cooking, you learn how to do it right.
I still think you like to cook.
Well, I got to cook these rabbits for my wife. Seasoned them last night.
Rabbit?
Yeah. You ain’t never had no rabbit before?
Hatch shook his head.
Taste like chicken.
Yeah?
The dark in the room gave way to the first full light of morning.
Once you get the wild taste out. I told my wife, she buy em, I’ll cook em. You wait here til tonight. You can taste them.
I’d like to, I really would, wish I could stay, but I got some things to do today.
And yo mamma probably worried. Did you call her?
Hatch lied.
Well, come on in here and make you some breakfast before you leave.
POOL, FRY ME SOME FISH, Lee said.
What you gon do fo me?
Pool, you bad. You a bad man.
See this gap between my teeth. Pool pointed to it with his finger. That’s my nipple holder. I put your nipple between there, then flip my tongue like this—
Lee turned her head. You bad. You a bad man. Ain’t that right, honey?
Hatch hesitated. Pool, are you bad?
Hell yes.
Fry me some fish.
Lee, stop beggin. Can’t you see I’m resting here?
I’ll fry you some fish, Hatch said.
You don’t have to do that, honey.
No, it’s okay. I’ll fry you some. Hatch rose from his seat. You gon have fish for breakfast?
What, Pool said, you ain’t never had no fish and grits for breakfast?
No.
Pool shook his head. Where you been all yo life?
Leave him alone, Lee said. Go on, honey. Go on. Hold the grits.
The kitchen drew Hatch in. He followed Pool’s instructions from yesterday. Get the grease really hot. Put the flour in a paper bag with a little bit of cornmeal. Shake the fish around good.
Don’t burn it up in there.
I won’t. He fried the fish good on one side, then flipped it over with a spatula.
Don’t flip it with no fork.
I won’t. He fried the fish good on the other side, then lifted it from the popping skillet and laid it on a napkin-covered plate to drain the grease.
Don’t forget to turn off that skillet.
I won’t. He flipped the fish onto a fresh plate. He walked into the other room with the plate balanced traylike on his hand. He set it before Lee and laid out her knife, fork, and napkin.
Thank you, honey.
You welcome. Like something to drink?
No, thanks. This is fine.
Hey, Pool shouted, turn off that light in the kitchen.
Hatch complied. Returned.
Lee had already cut into the fish.
How it taste?
Good.
It better taste good. I taught him.
Now, Pool, how come you can’t be nice to me. Like this young man? Fried me up some fish. You did something nice for me. Someday I’ll do something nice for you.
THESE KIDS IS SHO LAZY, Lee said. I work eleven hours a day, five days a week.
Then why you over here runnin yo mouth?
Pool, you know you bad. You can sho talk some trash.
Ain’t that the milk callin the sugar white.
Don’t pay no tention to him, honey. He a bad man. Ain’t that right?
Hatch couldn’t decide whether to smile or nod. Pool, are you bad?
Hell yes.
Here, honey. I bought a book for you. Lee served the book on the table to Hatch. The Trick Life. Some people say this is trash, but you like to read. Don’t you? I can look at you and tell. Read this book. Then tell me what you think.
Hatch opened the book, fingered the pages, seeing the words but not reading them.
That book is not trash. He just tellin it like it really is. The Muslims sell it. I bought three or four of his books from them. And you know they don’t sell no trash.
Hatch nodded.
He just tellin it like it is. He used to be a pimp. You know that?
So I heard.
He talk about what the hookers have to do. Where the hookers hide their money. You know. How the cops treat them. And this man that dress up like a woman. And these women with the big bosom. You read it and tell me if it’s trash. When you get finish, return it to me. I put my address and phone number inside.
YOU SAY YOU MET MY UNCLE JOHN? Hatch could talk now, now that Lee had left, now that they were alone. He would leave here, had to leave, leave and soon. He was shot through with things unsaid.
Once or twice. Lucifer brought him by.
What did you think of him?
Nice. We all vets.
Hatch thought about it. Tried to follow the wandering voice inside. You ain’t seen him since?
No. I’d like to. You bring him by sometime.
I will. He studied Webb. Someday he would dress like that. He would wear old man’s clothes. Wear these clothes daily without pride or shame, a uniform in a civilian world. He could feel it now. Inside him. The old man growing, inning the out, preparing for his day in the sun. Pool, he said, you been bad, you done wrong. What you gon say on Judgment Day?