Right as Rain

'No, but-'

'Got to turn that inventory first, man, get some cash flow goin' in this motherfucker. Only way we can do this deal, Ray.'

'I don't know,' said Ray.

'Fuck it,' said Earl, surprising Coleman with his voice. It was the first time Earl had spoken since he and his son had walked through the office door.

'You got somethin' on your mind, Daddy?' said Coleman.

'We'll bring the next load down,' said Earl, 'that's what you want. But I want somethin', too.'

'Let me guess,' said Coleman. 'This somethin' got light skin and green eyes?'

'That's right,' said Earl. 'I want to take that pretty girl home with me, the one you got livin' over there across the street. I'm gonna take her with me today.'

'Shit, Daddy.'

'Hold up, Critter. I'm talkin' now.'

'Aw, you're sweet on her,' said Coleman. 'That's real nice.'

'Got no problem with me takin' her, do ya?'

'No problem at all. I ain't got no kind of claim on it. Course, some of the fellas over at the Junkyard, they might want to up and flex on you, you try to take her away. 'Cause most of them been kickin' it, one behind the other, the last month or so.'

'Kickin' it?'

'Fallin' in love with her, Ray.'

Big-Ass Angelo went 'ssh, ssh, ssh,' his shoulders jiggling hard.

Earl ignored him and said, 'That'll do it, then. We'll be on our way.'

Ray stood. 'Ill call you. We'll be back with that first load in a couple of days. Then you can come on out and get the rest.'

'Oh, I don't think I'll be makin' the trip personally, Ray. I'm gonna send out a po-lice escort, make it nice and official.'

'You're gonna send that guy Madonna?'

Coleman chuckled. 'Sure, Ray. I'll send Madonna.'

'All right, then. See you fellas later.'

'Ray,' said Coleman. 'Earl.'

Coleman and Angelo watched them go out the door.

Coleman said, 'Call all our dealers, Angie. Tell 'em we got a lot of good product comin' in. And don't forget to call that white boy, too. He can move it on the other side of town, and we need it moved out quick. Get that first load out on the street so we can do the same with the second. This a big opportunity we got right here. We gonna make some large bank on this motherfucker, Angie.'

'Yeah, but we got to go all the way the fuck on out to Hooterville to pick it up.'

'That's all right. Got to throw dirt on the Boones sooner or later, might as well do it while we're out there. Make a nice pile of bodies, them and the Rodriguez brothers. Get it lookin' like Jonestown out there and shit. Make it right for those Colombians. 'Cause you know I don't want to see the Vargas family in town, lookin' to start a war.'

'I ain't goin'.'

'Don't worry, big dawg. I'm gonna send Adonis and his shadow.'

Angelo grinned. 'You mean Madonna, don't you?'

'Ray Boone,' said Coleman. 'That's a real genius, right there.'

'I ain't stupid!' said Big-Ass Angelo.

Coleman cracked up and held out his palm. Angelo gave him skin.

Earl Boone walked along the doorless stalls, stopping at the very last one in the row. Sondra Wilson stood there, the flame from a single candle throwing light upon her face. Her white blouse was filthy, and dirt streaked her cheeks. She seemed unsteady on her feet.

'Hey, honey girl,' said Earl.

'Earl.'

He stepped in close and looked into her eyes. One was brown and one was green.

'What happened to your eyes, young lady?'

'I lost a contact, I guess.' She tried to curl her lip seductively. 'You got somethin' for me, Earl?'

'I got it. But not here. I'm takin' you out of this place.'

'Where we goin'?' she said.

'You're coming to live with me for a while. You're gonna have a shower and new clothes and clean sheets to sleep on every night.'

'What about the other thing?' she said, because that was all she cared about now.

'You're gonna have plenty of that, too.'

Sondra turned to the wall and untaped the magazine photo of the model. She folded it and picked up the paperweight off the toilet-paper dispenser and looked around for her other possessions. She picked up a wet, half-used book of matches from the tiles and realized that there was nothing else.

'Come on, baby doll. Ray's waiting on us out in the hall.'

'Can I get a little somethin' for my friend Tonio before we go?'

'Forget about him. We want to get out quiet and quick. I understand some of the other fellas in here might have fallen in love with you, and we wouldn't want them getting jealous.'

'Love?' said Sondra. She rubbed her nose and laughed.

They took her down the stairs and went through a large hole in the brick wall. From deep in the darkness of the side room, Tonio Morris watched Sondra leave with the old white man and his son. He wondered why Sondra would go without saying good-bye. He was sad for a moment, then felt a shudder of panic, realizing that maybe his source was gone for good.

In the street, the cop behind the wheel of the idling cruiser watched the Boones emerge from the Junkyard with the pretty junkie from the second floor. The three of them were headed for the garage where the others were holding their car. The cop snapped the cigar that he was holding between his fingers and tossed it to the floor.

20

'Sharmba Mitchell,' said Strange. 'That's a beautiful fighter right there.'

'Look at that left,' said Quinn.

'I had a left like that one, I'd never throw a right.'

Strange and Quinn sat in the bleachers of the Washington Convention Center, drinking a couple of four-dollar drafts. In the crowd of four thousand, Quinn was among a small number of whites, the others being the parents of a light heavyweight Texan, four frightened-looking fraternity boys, and several white women accompanied by black men. The convention center was a grim, outdated white elephant that had underserved the city from day one. But the sport almost lent itself to unattractive, spartan arenas; as boxing venues went, this wasn't a bad place to see a fight.

The white, light heavyweight Texan, who fought under the name of Joe Bill 'Rocky' Jakes, was walking along the edge of the stands, having changed into street clothes after his disastrous defeat. His face was marked and puffy, and one eye was swollen shut.

'Hey, Rocky!' shouted a guy from the stands.

'Yo, Adrian!' shouted another.

'You'll get 'em next time, Rock,' shouted a third, with a Burgess Meredith growl, to much laughter from the spectators in the surrounding seats.

'They're usin' the hell out of that guy,' said Quinn.

'You ever notice,' said Strange, 'how many white fighters call themselves Rocky?'

'I think there's been one or two.'

'There's that hook again,' said Strange, pointing to the ring.

Takoma Park's Sharmba Mitchell was defending his WBA super lightweight title against Pedro Saiz, out of Brooklyn. Saiz, a late replacement for a scratched William Joppy, had not been expected to show too much, but he was proving himself tonight. Mitchell wore trunks cut in strips of red, white, and blue. Saiz wore white.

The fourth round ended. As the fighters went to their corners, a blonde showing a whole lot of leg climbed into the ring and walked around the edge of the ropes, a round-card held up in her hands.

'You see the ladies?' said Strange.

'I liked Round Two, myself,' said Quinn.

'Shame about the face.'

'Hey, I bet she's got a big heart.'

'A big inverted heart, you mean.'

'Her ass was pretty big. But I thought you guys liked that.'

'You thought. Anyway, I'm not talkin' about the ring girls, Terry, I'm talkin' about our ladies. Our dates.'

'They went to get a couple of beers.'

'Fifteen minutes ago.'