What a shithole.
Smelled like old socks and mold; probably causen there were old socks everywhere, and dirty plates covered with mold littered the kitchen. Even on the grimy tile floor. No wonder Roley couldn’t get laid, iffen he were tryna bring dames back to this place.
“Were sleepin.” Roley sounded peevish and annoyed. Katie got that tone sometimes when Felice made her clean her room before she could go out to get some eats with him. But Katie were eight years old. And she was a fuck of a lot cuter than Roley, and she weren’t a smug prick neither.
So Terrible didn’t reply, just watched Roley move stacks of stroke mags and papers and empty potato chip bags off his couch to clear a space. He ain’t really wanted to sit there, but he were trying not to let Roley know how much he hated him, so he sat. “Hearing Slobag sent some men have a chatter with you on the yesterday.”
Roley nodded. “Gave me all this shit on how workin for them be safer than stayin here, dig? Causen of the ghosts an all.”
Terrible lit a smoke, as much to try and hide the smell of the place as because he wanted one. He ain’t bothered offering one to Roley. “Why come you ain’t say to me?”
“Said to Bump, on the morn.” Roley smirked. “Went by he place, gave him what happen. He ain’t happy on it, he weren’t at all, noways. Wonderin why he ain’t given you it? Seemin kinda funny, ain’t it, that he keeping that from you.”
Terrible could stub out he smoke in Roley’s arm before Roley’d even know what he were doing. Change that smug fucking expression on he face real fucking fast. The fuck did he think he were gonna gain with that shit?
“Tell me again,” he said, letting Roley’s attempt at a dig, or whatany it were supposed to be, lie there on the floor among the filth. Where it belonged. “What happened. What them said.”
Roley yawned. “Awful tired, I am, an I gotta work again tonight, seein as how you ain’t letting me off. Maybe we chatter on this later, aye?”
The wall opposite the couch were covered by one of the biggest TVs Terrible ever seen. One a them brand new huge ones with the thin screen. He headed for it, tugging his knife from his pocket as he went and flicking out the blade. Fuck this. He’d pay for a new one outen he own pocket. Be worth it.
He’d just pulled back his arm to thrust the blade into that screen when Roley’s yelp stopped him. “Okay! Fuck, okay, shit, what the fuck problem you got? Work together, we do, ain’t see why you gotta fuckin be that way. Why you treat me so shitty alla time like I’m some loser.”
“Why’nt you just fuckin say me what they tell you, an you can get back to you fuckin beauty sleep.”
“You pissed causen what I say on the Churchwitch?”
“What?” Was he gonna have to hit Roley to get a damn answer?
“Askin you, you pissed up at me causen that. Only sayin, you around she a lot. She ain’t my type, but guessing she cute enough.”
Terrible opened his mouth, then stopped himself. Roley seemed awful interested in getting knowledge on Chess. On how Terrible felt about Chess. Why?
Not that he cared. Only made him more certain, though, he ain’t could beat on Roley for it, prove he right. “Just give me what Slobag’s man said.”
Roley sighed, but the smile ain’t quite left he face. Sick little shit. “Pulled up onna street, leaned out them car, ask me how I feel working for a dude lets ghosts kill he men an ain’t done shit on it. Telling me how iffen I come working for them, start handing my money over to them, dig, they keep me safe.”
Terrible took a last drag off his cigarette and stubbed it out against the wall. Fuck Roley. “What’d you say?”
Roley watched the cigarette hit his floor. “Told em to fuck off.”
“You alone then?”
“With Nick, only he weren’t there. Went to get he a Coke, he done, were in the Stop Shop.”
If only that were suspicious. Well, it were suspicious, but not as much as he wanted it to be. Iffen he were the one wandering around Slobag’s territory tryna poach men, he’d talk to em on their alones, too. Better odds, and less danger. One dude weren’t gonna attack a couple guys in a car. Two dudes together just might.
“Any else?
“Nay. Were it. I say fuck off, them drive away.” Roley showed he teeth. “Woulda said right away, but were workin. Ain’t wanted to be abandoning my work, aye?”
If Roley thought that were some kinda clever sarcasm or whatany, he were dumber’n Terrible thought he was. Not that Terrible was gonna tell him that. “Good. Make certain you don’t.”
He almost wished Roley would, though. That’d be something he could beat on Roley for, and Lacey’d just have to fucking deal with it. As it were … he were the one fucking dealing with it, and that sucked.
He’d almost given up on hearing from Chess when she called him around six-thirty. Late for her to be finishing up there, specially on Holy Day when she usually got home around four, so maybe she’d spent some extra time there at Church; maybe meant she had something for him on the Peace Factory. He hoped so, anyway.
He answered. “Hey, Chess. You right?”
“Yeah,” she said, and she did sound cheerful. Not the artificial kind of cheerful, neither; he were getting good at telling the difference, at knowing when she was really feeling good and when she was feeling good just causen of what pills she swallowed. Her voice were more … solid, when it was real. “Right up. You?”
“Aye.” He paused. He were supposed to pick Amy up around eight. That ain’t left much time.
But he could be a little late, couldn’t he? Seeing as it was work. It weren’t him deciding to be late just so he could hang out with Chess. It was time he needed to spend. It was keeping the whores safe, doing his job. Amy’d understand.
He hoped she would. And he hoped he’d be able to think of a way to explain it to her so she knew it was work, and not just wanting to spend time with Chess.
So he asked, “You busy?”
“Nope. I just got home.”
Why they seemed like they always danced around this he didn’t know, but they did. Like neither wanted to commit to it; like neither wanted to stick out their necks in case somebody brought down a blade on it.
But he figured her company was worth more to him than the other way around, and he figured it was his place to do the asking anyway, so it ain’t bothered him. “Buy you some eats?”
“Yeah, sure. Come over.”
He wouldn’t ask if she had anything for him on the phone. She wouldn’t expect him to. Instead he turned the wheel—he’d been driving aimlessly, keeping an eye on the busier-by-the-minute streets—and headed for her place.
She came outside as he turned off the car to go get her, and hopped into the passenger seat in a swirl of cold air and the scent of herbs and flowers, whatever that was that she always smelled like. Real light, like an afterthought, so he knew it weren’t some perfume or whatany that she put on. It were just her skin, her hair. Just her.
And she did look happy. Relaxed. He’d been right on that one. He wouldn’t ask why—she’d tell him iffen she wanted him to know—but it was good to know he’d been right. Seemed like he got smarter and smarter on her every day, knew more and more.
Maybe he weren’t the only one getting more knowledge. Chess looked at him close, with narrowed eyes pale behind black make-up. “You okay?”
He shrugged. “Ain’t slept much on the last night.”
That weren’t all bothering him, or, it were a side effect of what bothered him. Hearing all them ghost rumors bothered him. Hearing on Slobag’s men wandering around in Bump’s territory bothered him. The frustration—the sick feeling of being too stupid to figure out what was happening, of knowing if he were just a little smarter he’d be able to get it—ate at him like street-dogs on garbage. He bet he weren’t looking too good.