“How does it look?” Red asked Wilber.
Wilber picked up the money and thumbed through it. “Like five hundred dollars.”
“Good,” Red said. “Good.”
Wilber sniffed the money. “And it smells like a woman’s thigh.”
“Even better,” Red said.
“You said Till was in trouble,” Brett said. “Besides being a whore in Big Jim’s stable, how’s she in trouble?”
“It’s my guess the other girls will tell that she helped us willingly, to help herself get out. Big Jim doesn’t like that sort of thing. He’ll have a special work plan for her.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“It means she won’t like it,” Red said. “As for what he’ll have in mind for her, I can’t say. Maybe he’ll put her on the street in Tulsa. Some other place not even that nice.”
“Then this address could be meaningless?” I said. “Probably is by now.”
“It’s the last address where she was,” Wilber said.
“Correct,” Red said. “That’s all we know.”
“That’s not worth five hundred dollars,” I said. “That’s worth a sack of dog shit.”
Red looked at Brett. “Ma’am.”
“Keep the money,” Brett said.
“All right,” I said. “This is where our association ends. I don’t want to ever see either one of you again. I do, I might not like it.”
“Suits me,” Red said. “I haven’t found either of you particularly sociable.”
“I ain’t scared I see you again,” Wilber said. “I think you ain’t near tough as you think you are.”
“You’re the one with the broken nose and the fucked-up teeth,” I said.
Red laughed.
“Yeah,” Wilber said, “but wasn’t you did it.”
“That’s true,” I said, and moved quickly and shot my foot out and hit Wilber in the mouth. His head went back and hit the wall and he came out of the chair charging. I sidestepped and brought my gun down behind his ear. He fell down and I kicked him again. A tooth slid under the bed and I could see a piece of another in my tennis shoe with a bloody spot around it.
It wasn’t really necessary, but I bent over and hit Wilber one more time behind the ear with the revolver. “That’s because we heard Till’s pimp beat her. And if you weren’t the one, my best apologies.”
Wilber moaned, rolled over on his back. “Bastard,” he said. “I might want to see you again sometime.”
“Your choice,” I said. “But I don’t recommend it.”
Red recovered his matches and was relighting his cigar, which had gone out. The only thing he had done during the action was raise his feet a little. He said, “Now you got the news on Tillie, might I suggest you forget it. Taking one of Jim’s whores is not a good idea. He frowns on all manner of business tampering, and we are living proof of that, and the fact that we’re living proof is rare. The whores, they do what they’re told, and they stay where they’re told, and they don’t want to do that … Well, they still do it.”
“I’d like to see you tangle with Big Jim,” Wilber said from his position on the floor. “I’d like you to tangle with me when I’m ready.”
I didn’t say anything to that.
Brett opened the door. I took hold of Wilber’s automatic and popped out the clip. I wiped the automatic with my shirt, threw it on the floor. I put the clip in my shirt pocket. I held my gun next to my leg and Brett and I walked out of there and closed the door and went along the walk quickly, down the stairs, out to her car.
I took Wilber’s ammunition clip out of my pocket, wiped it with my shirttail, and dropped it into the parking lot.
When Brett was behind the wheel and I was beside her, she looked at me, said, “Surreal.”
“Yeah,” I said. “What now?”
“A light lunch. Sex.”
“With me?”
“Unless you can suggest someone else.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Don’t think so. Nobody comes to mind, anyway. We could check the want ads, you like.”
“Nah, you’ll do.”
5
On the way to Brett’s house, I felt her mood go dark. She had suddenly realized just what kind of people her daughter was involved with. It’s not that she hadn’t known before, or hadn’t tried to convince Tillie to give it up, but now, with Tillie wanting out, and her seeing scum like Red and Wilber, she knew the world of her daughter firsthand. It’s one thing to wave at the devil from afar, quite another to shake the bastard’s hand.
Brett didn’t say a word about how she felt, but I could feel the change in her, tangible as the taste of a stinkbug in your last spoonful of custard.
And speaking of which, the lovebugs were worse. They came at the car like bullets, splattered and spurted their grease across the windshield until it was impossible to see. Brett had to pull over at a serve-yourself filling station. I got out and pumped gas and tried to clean the windshield with the water hose and a paper towel, but it wasn’t a very good job. The water just mixed with the bug goo and spread itself over the windshield like film over a dying eye.
Back in the car, I said, “How about that light lunch?”
“Sure,” Brett said, then she began to cry. I slid over and put my arm around her and kissed her cheek, which was wet with tears. She said, “I know now she’s in trouble. Hell, I’ve known that all along. Why didn’t I do something?”
“You tried to talk her out of it.”
“I should have gone up there and got her.”
“She wouldn’t have come.”
“She wants out now.”
“That’s now,” I said.
“She could be dead.”
“No reason to think that. Guy like this Big Jim, he doesn’t kill his stock over something like that. Meat on the hoof is how he sees it. It’ll probably be like Red said. A punishment of some kind. Hooking where she wouldn’t want to hook.”
“I can understand fucking,” Brett said, “but for money, and with anybody, and with someone telling you what to do. And all kinds of disease. Some of the men …”
“I know.”
“I can’t believe I’m boo-hooing like this. It’s embarrassing.”
“Shouldn’t be.”
“But it is.”
“Hell, I cry, Brett.”
“Does it mess up your eye makeup?”
“Absolutely.”
She smiled, said, “I could call the cops, and maybe do something there, but a hooker, I don’t think they’re going to be all that concerned. They were, this Big Jim wouldn’t be doing business like he’s doing.”
“Some cops are concerned,” I said. “Most. It’s just not that simple. Guys like Big Jim know how to do bad business and have people know it’s bad business, and still get away with it.”
“Then I’ve got to go get her. Hap, I have to.”
“I know.”
The light lunch was at Brett’s place, a tunafish sandwich with sweet apple slices in it, ice tea with lots of ice and no sugar, potato chips, and sweet pickles forked from a jar. We sat at the kitchen table and ate slowly and talked awhile, tried to figure what to do.
I said, “You know this isn’t going to be a walk in the park?”
“Yes. I know.”
“We’re not going to drive up there and say ‘We’ve come to get Tillie. Sleepover is finished.’ It’s not that easy.”
“I know.”
“It could turn ugly.”
“I understand that. I’m not askin’ you …”
“You are and you aren’t,” I said. “We’ve been over that. I’m not saying I won’t go. I’ve already said I would. All I’m doing is warning you. We go up there, it could still turn out bad for Tillie.”
“You think, as is, it’s going to get better?”
“No, I don’t. I guess I’m actually telling you what you can expect for yourself. It might be best you stay here, let me go.”
“I wouldn’t let you go by yourself.”
“Leonard and I would go.”
“You don’t know he’ll go.”