The guy saw it too and that was less OK. Especially as he moved to serve me, asked, “See something you like?”
South-London inflection, lots of hard. I could go with it, said, “Yeah, but guess I’ll settle for a drink. A large Scotch.”
“A particular type?”
“Yeah, a wet one.”
He let it slide. I could care. The drink came and with it an appraising look, missing nothing. I wittily said, “And do you see something you like?”
My eye caught a can with the letters TNT. He picked one up, said, “Wanna try one, my treat?”
“Pour the sucker.”
I took a long swallow. He waited and what else could I say, so I said it.
“Explosive.”
But his eyes were now set over my right shoulder, hard and concentrated. He said, “Two dudes followed you in here and they be shootin’ glances your way. Now one’s coming over.”
“Filth?”
“Naw, the gear is wrong. Those dudes got taste, bad taste but an effect.”
I turned and the guy looked familiar. It took a few moments. He said, “Hiya Nick, remember me... Danny... from the club.”
Yeah, I remembered. Last time I’d met him he’d been calling women “chicks”.
“Something I can do for you Danny?”
“Me and George... that’s George, he took over your job when you left. We’ve been looking for you. Lo and behold, we’re cruising round, there you are out for a constitutional. Small world, eh.”
He looked at the barman, said, “You wanna park it someplace else nigger.”
The barman gave a low whistle and moved down the bar. I said, “So why would you be wanting me Danny?”
“That spade got lifted, Baldwin. He used to know that black piece you’ve been shafting and, that hard-case Dexy, he knew him. Now it seems the missis paid a mill plus for his return. Me ’n’ George, we figger you could help with inquiries, know wot I mean Nick. But hey, we’re not greedy, fifty big ones each, we’re outa here.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Danny sighed. “Not going to happen Nick. George said you’d be difficult. Tell you what, I’ll give you a week, say next Friday at your place. How would that suit? Otherwise, as the Yanks say, I’ll have to drop a dime on you.”
I watched them leave, they waved cheerily. Course my luck was bound to change. I’d hit all the green lights and, when I eased up, luck came and bit me in the arse.
The barman ambled towards me, asked, “Frens of yours?”
“No, I’m real sorry about that crack.”
“Wha’ dat?”
“Am, you know... about you being black.”
“Oh, calling me a nigger, dat wot you all want to say.”
“I’m sorry. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Yeah, I’ll have me a club soda.”
“Nothing stronger?”
“That’s it. Used to be I was a juicer.”
“Excuse me?”
“A dipso, alky, like that. Now I ain’t.”
“You miss it?”
He passed me another large Scotch, held it up to the light. The gold aura rocked gently and he put it in front of me, asked, “Would you?”
Nursed the drink for a while and thought how I’d miss everything. Then finished it and headed off, shouted, “See you.”
He gave a slight nod, nothing elaborate, no fancy show.
As I got outside, Danny appeared right in front, pushed a blade into my groin, said, “Do anything stoopid, you’ll be a soprano. Now let’s all move down the alley for a wee chat, a business conference, if you like.”
We did, if somewhat awkwardly. George was waiting and swigging from a beer bottle. The fucker was big and very little of it was fat. A boxer’s ruint face with eyes that never saw the light. What they used to call a nasty piece of work and they were right. As we frog-walked behind him, he gave a huge grin. Yellow uneven teeth, he seemed proud of them. Go figure.
I said, “You’re the Colgate nightmare.”
And he kicked me in the balls. I’m no different from any other bloke, I dropped and vomited. All thoughts of Rilke, America, life vanished. Howling was the sole ambition.
George said, “Hey Danny, he ain’t so tough but I better fix his mouth, wotcha fink?”
Danny thought so too.
He smashed the neck of the bottle against the wall and grabbed my hair, pushed the jagged piece in close to my lips, said, “Time to eat shit hard boy.”
I put up my hand and Danny said, “Hold a mo’ George.”
Near gaggin’ on the taste of puke, I managed to say, “Cut me and no cash.”
George would have gone for it regardless but Danny knew my form, considered, then said, “Let ’im go George.”
“The fuck I will.”
Danny grabbed his arm, said, “Don’t play silly buggers, you want the readies or not?”
With a disgusted sigh, George pushed me away. I rolled on my side and cupped my groin. Christ, the pain! George spat and said, “Thought you said he was tough, look at ’im, wanking is he?”
Danny bent down, said in a friendly voice, mate to mate, “Nick, watcha say, no harm done, just a misunderstanding, alrite mate. We’ll see you Friday, do our bit o’ business and yer on yer way. Alrighty, your place, early. Got it?”
I nodded.
George half turned then as if a thought struck him. He lashed out with his foot catching me at the base of my spine, said, “Watch yer back chummy.”
Their laughter sounded all the way up the alley.
When I got back to the hotel, I was weak as a kitten. Showered first and examined my torso, bruises and cuts all over, said aloud, “Shit.”
Then climbed into the sack and slept or passed out instantly. I didn’t dream, leastways nothing I could recall. Not that I wanted to, my mind was set on horror full.
Woke late evening and my spine was on fire. Eased gingerly out of bed and risked a look in the mirror. Old, a face about to crumble into late middle age, checked my eyes to see if they’d changed. After what I had to do with the bodies, surely it would take its toll. But no difference. I felt randy though. A surge of lust that blocked out the aches. Couldn’t believe it, said, “You wanna get laid, is that it. I thought you were all through with women. After Bonny and Lisa, how could you ever bother again.”
But my groin said, “Oh yeah, do bother and soon.”
Mebbe the action with the needle and the wiggers had unhinged me. A compulsion to talk to myself and out loud was becoming more frequent. Jesus, I’d be one of those sorry bastards who trudge the high street muttering. Well, least ways I’d be a rich one. I’d need to have a plan to deal with Danny and George. I could of course give them the money and pray for a quiet life. Yeah, dream on sucker.
The radio was blaring in the hall of the hoteclass="underline"
I went through the desert
on a horse with no name
I was glad to come in from
the rain.
I think that’s what I heard. Remember it, one of those songs you heard all the time, you’d no idea what it meant. In fact, if pressed, you couldn’t even say if you liked it. But you knew it and, worse, it clung. One of those songs that hung out with, “me and you/and a dog named boo”.
I thought of all those half-baked hippies in California smug on soft drugs and sunshine and maybe I’d swing by, hum a mellow tune meself. After Nashville of course. Shit, I had to pay my country dues first.
Checked in the directory for Bill’s number. He was the guy who’d given the day’s work to Dex and me. The time we moved the furniture and Dex had dealt with the skate-board kid.