Usually he weren’t real emotionally involved in this shit. He could turn himself off, was the way he thought of it: just do his job, whatany it was needed doing. But now … he kept seeing Clapper Sue’s face, Essie’s face, Drina’s face. Kept seeing them huddled under that pink blanket in that stuffy room, and how broken they looked. It made him feel like a redlining engine, and he wanted to take his foot off the fucking brake pedal. He were sweating from wanting it so bad.
He waited for Roley’s screaming to die before he talked again. “You really wanna do this? We both got you gonna give me the tells, aye. Oughta just give it now.”
Roley hesitated. Aye, Terrible knew that look. He were sorry to see it, too; well, not sorry, causen he needed the knowledge and faster were always better, but sorry he wouldn’t be able to hurt Roley more.
Leastaways not much more.
He reached up and took Roley’s right hand in his own right, braced Roley’s arm with his left. “Wanting see how it feels, you wrist breaks? Or you wanting chatter instead?”
He didn’t give Roley time to think on it. He tightened his grip, started to twist Roley’s hand and pull it back, figuring Roley’d speak up before he finished the movement but perfectly happy to go ahead iffen he kept quiet.
“Waitwaitwaitwait!” The words—the one word repeated—ended in a sick, panicked little scream. “Wait, aye, look. Weren’t my fault, dig? Ain’t meant to—never fuckin meant for it to go down like so, swearing it. Ain’t ever meant that shit happening.”
Terrible raised his eyebrows, let boredom sit all over his face. “Where Brian?”
“Lied to me, he done, he lied. Gave me him only wanting hair offen em, dig? Say were all him fuckin wanting.”
What the fuck did he care on this? He ain’t gave a shit why Roley done it or what Brian said or whatany else. He just wanted to finish it up.
He increased the pressure on Roley’s wrist. “Where Brian?”
“Please, please lemme give the explains, weren’t my fault—”
Terrible finished the movement. He felt Roley’s bones crack and snap, felt the muscles around them spasm under his hands.
Roley shrieked like a dame. Terrible guessed he ain’t could blame him too much. Broken wrists hurt. But he hadn’t screamed like that when it happened to him, so he went ahead and rolled his eyes as he lit a cigarette. Roley probably would need a few minutes before he could talk again.
He did. Were about five before he finally stopped crying and got he breath back. “Ain’t knowing certain where he live. Moves around, him do. Got him a place up Northside, but I ain’t got where exact.”
“How you stay touched up with he? On the phone, or you meet him up?”
“Both.”
Terrible waited.
Roley sighed; red drool ran out the corner of his mouth and dripped down his chin to his shirt. His face was a mess of tears and blood and snot, his skin shiny pink. “Use the phone, dig, set up meets. Only he lied to me, Terrible, he lied, he ain’t told me what he for true wanted.”
“You keep sayin that,” Terrible said, shaking his head a little. “Like it fuckin matter. Only it don’t.”
“Can pay up.” Roley’s eyes were wide. “Can pay up, them can, pay back for fuckin em. Just counting as an owe, aye? Them ain’t shoulda taken it, but they whores, be what they do anyway just—”
Terrible slammed his bent elbow into the side of Roley’s neck, where it met his shoulder. Roley’s whole body jerked hard. He made a sort of half-scream half-grunt; every breath he took whined in his nose and throat. Good. Was he fucking serious? Like it were about the money. Like that were the problem with what he did.
Terrible held up Roley’s phone. “Where you meeting him, on the usual? How often? How you set up, you call or text?”
Roley looked at the phone. Looked at Terrible. Looked at Terrible’s fist for a long moment. “Either. Meet whenever we gots shit needs chattering. Ain’t my fault, Terrible, needed the lashers, aye? Fuckin broke, I were, ain’t could pay no bills, and … what you doing?”
Terrible didn’t look up from the phone, where he were writing a text to Brian. He was barely listening anyway; Roley could make any justification he wanted, but none of it mattered for shit. Betrayal was betrayal. Not much in life were black-and-white. This was. “The fuck you think I’m doing?”
The text he sent said, “Meet me 5358 Foster space 12. Now.”
It looked like the other texts he’d read on the phone, and now he were more certain they was real and not planted. He didn’t think there’d be any reason for Brian to suspect it, leastaways.
If Roley were telling the truth and Brian lived in Northside, it’d take him maybe half an hour to get there. More than enough time.
He got up without another word and left Roley there while he moved the Chevelle into the garage space they had a few doors down, and closed the door so it were hidden. Took a couple minutes to give Timmy Vee a ring-up, too, tell him time to start moving out.
Roley looked more scared when Terrible got back. Aye, he ought. Should know what were coming.
Terrible punched him again, to get he attention. The chair rocked back, righted itself with a thud. “Got any else you wanting give me, while you still got the chance?”
A flash of defiance on Roley’s face, of anger. Even now the asshole thought he hadn’t done aught so bad. Amazing. “All I done was make some extra lashers on the side, is all. Aye, maybe them whores got roughed up some. So what? Happens alla fuckin time, and you knowing it.”
“Aye? What about Slick?”
Confusion. Confusion that looked genuine, though it were kinda hard to tell with Roley’s mouth swollen and eye puffing up too. Made his voice slurred and thick, specially with that whiny tone that felt like somebody running pins up Terrible’s spine to hear. “What on Slick? I ain’t killed he.”
“Who done it, then?”
“Ain’t knowing that.” Panic replaced the confusion. “Hey, I ain’t had shit doing with that one. Ain’t killed he, ain’t knew he were dead. Thought he were just taken off, I done.”
His head snapped back under Terrible’s fist. He spit out a tooth; it took him a minute to get himself together and start talking again. “True thing, I swearing, saw him leaving he corner. Got into a car, he done. Figured he were off with some dame or aught, so gave Brian the ring-up, he sent he a man over. I ain’t fucked the whores meself, an I ain’t killed Slick.”
Fury rose so hard and hot in Terrible’s chest it were hard to breathe. “An you knew Slick went off an ain’t said shit on it. You had you some knowledge you ain’t handed over.”
“Weren’t important—”
“How long you planned this?”
“Not—not long, aye, only—”
His pinky finger broke with a satisfying little crack.
“How long?” Terrible asked again.
“Were—a month. A month before Clapper Sue. Brian knowing a friend of mine, dig, met he a while back. Said would get me a job the Peace Factory, get me outen Downside.” His voice went sullen. “So I ain’t gotta suck you an Bump’s dicks no more to get work, bend over let you treat me any way you wanting.”
Hatred burned in his eyes. Aye, Terrible felt the same way. What the fuck Roley thought, he’d get to just walk in and get whatany job he wanted, making whatany money he wanted? He started at the bottom like every else. Ain’t even started at the bottom; causen of Lacey and Vole he ain’t had to be a runner or spend hours in a steel-room cutting Dream.
“Were getting me a real job,” Roley went on. His voice got stronger as he talked. “Getting outta here. Were my chance, it were, an I fuckin took it, an you’d do the same iffen you had a brain in that ugly head you got.”