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Sitting to one side of the alley, Benny watched Sue
and a John she called Les.
Sue giggled softly and popped a gum bubble in the
boy’s ear. His hand slid over her breasts, then down to the snap on her skirt.
He eased her back onto a stack of damp cardboard but she wiggled and pushed. Les
tried to hold her down and she bit his ear.
He jerked away. “Hey, what’s with you?”
“Man, no.” She wiggled again, snapping the buttons
on the skirt and fending him off.
Face red and his willey sagging from the front of his
jeans, Les balled a fist.
Seeing Les lose his manhood, Benny choked and clapped
a hand over his mouth. Sue frowned, glancing in his direction but saw only
shadows.
“You did it with ever guy in my medical class,”
Les snapped. “Even Chet, and he’s a fruit. Why not me?”
Looking away, Sue shrugged.
“They paid. Weren’t no free-bees nor charity cases
in the bunch, man.”
“What?” he gaped and the willey shrank away.
“Paid.” She grew cool. “I get paid for this.
Ain’t no such thing as a free lunch, jerk.”
“You –”
“Hush,” she scolded. “You know JJ. My pa wants
every penny –”
“How the hell is he gonna know?”
“He’ll know.”
“Bull –”
“Because somebody will tell him. Or the judge. You
want to go up before Harrison? Yeah, so what if you’re twenty. He gets a cut
from every bim that hits juvvie court. You want to buck that nut?" She
muttered a laugh and snapped her fingers. “Man, you’d star in his next snuff
film.”
Eyes wide and one hand edging down in a protective
move over his groin, Les backed away.
“I . . . I got to get it gone. I . . .” He spun
and fled, leaping over piles of trash and squealing rats. On the street, he
slipped, crashed to the sidewalk, and clawed his way from her sight.
“Nice kid,” she muttered, getting to her feet
straightening her things. Sue pulled an imitation rabbit fur coat over her
shoulders and slid the miniscule purse up one arm. Threading her way through the
trash, she kicked a rat out of her way and stepped onto the street, the stiletto
heels of the boots clicking on dagger points.
For a moment she stared in the direction the kid went.
He was nice. A friend of sorts.
With a sigh, she stepped to the door of the bar,
Anton’s Place, and then into the musky, smoke-filled depths.
JJ swiveled on his barstool to glare at her. The tee
shirt he wore was stained and torn, his pants crusted with dirt and there was an
odor of fecal matter that came from him. Several men not unlike him sat to
either side nursing wine and beers.
“Where’s my money, girl?”
When she didn’t answer, he shoved a hand at her.
“Gimme that damned money, you two-bit ho.” He was
sullen, bitter that she only stared with hate on her face.
Grabbing her arm, he thrust his face close.
“You dare? Gimme the damned money else you wind up
like your ma.” A cold leer covered his face for a moment, replaced only by a
heavy-lidded look that told of a lust. “Remember, girl, how them hogs
squealed? Only squeal like that when you feed ‘im raw meat. Remember what it
sound like, when they cracks bones in they jaws? Like gunshot, nearly. Crack, pop.” He rasped a small laugh.
His face changed to a look of hate. He shook her,
snarling, “My money. Gimme my money.”
“He didn’t have none,” she said. “Swear to
god, he didn’t. I told him no money no honey and he left.”
Shaking her, JJ shouted, “Lying bitch. Just like
your ma.” One soft, pale hand came up and cracked over Sue’s face.
She tore free only to fall to the floor. Under her
hands were ashes from weed and tobacco. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. No tears.
Please, God, no tears for him to laugh at.
A soft, rich voice came from the bar.
“Told you, old man, I don’t like violence in my
bar.”
Sue glanced up to see JJ spin on the stool. A hand
grabbed him by the hair and he was snapped down and as it slapped on the bar his
face made a loud, meaty sound. He jerked to his feet and fell over howling pain
and spraying blood. The men near him shot away cursing and trying avoid the
blood.
JJ flopped to the floor and Mitch Anton’s head
appeared.
Clawing at the back of his waist, JJ screamed and spit
at Mitch.
“You black bastid! I’ll kill you-”
Mitch’s hand came up, hefting a sawed-off shotgun.
“Go home. Sleep it off.”
The burning red in JJ’s face drained away. His hands
came out in plain view and he lurched to his feet.
“I’m a-going, but I’m telling the judge, too.”
Mitch barked a laugh. “Harrison don’t own this
‘hood. He pays Lord Penn just like you and me to keep the peace. Cops don’t
come here ‘less Lord Penn says so, drugs and ho’s and even little old ladies
pays him to stay cool and easy.” The face changed and a cold look came over
Mitch. “Out.”
He raised the shotgun and whispered, “Boom.”
JJ scurried out the door. More slowly, Sue followed.
The evening was chilling and damp with southeast gusts
and hard spikes of sleet. Here and there a little light glowed around a window
boarded up to keep out the cold and the kids working these streets.
Henry Oldham walked down the street. JJ opened his fly
to relieve himself in the gutter and Oldham frowned, stepping out of the way.
He saw Sue and smiled, holding out his hands.
“Daughter, peace.”
“Get your hands off my kid,” JJ cried. “Damned
cheating preachers –”
Henry raised a fist and JJ reached for the pistol
stuck in his waistband. Then the old man smiled and JJ froze. Henry again
offered his hands.
Taking the warm hands, she tried to smile. JJ stumbled
down the street muttering and Henry drew her into the bar.
“Mitch! Set me up with a cup of coffee.” He smiled
at Sue, then tipped her head up with a finger under her chin. “Best make that
two.”
“You got it.” Compassion showed briefly in
Mitch’s eyes, then he scowled, his eyes scanning the crowd. Seeing no one that
looked to b a cop, ‘Undercover or other wise,’ he pulled out an unmarked jug
and dumped a little in two cups, then filled them with coffee and spooned a
little whipped cream over Sue’s.
Henry sniffed his and grinned, carrying them to a
table. Benny was scowling and angry. He sniffed, too, at Henry’s, and this big
guy wearing a lionskin robe and big, big molten iron sword growled a warning.
Benny backed off in a hurry.
As the girl and old man slid into a booth, Benny took
a chair. He yelped and jumped up. A tiny, snickering imp rasped a grin and
flicked a lighter from the seat. Benny flatted him with a fist and rubbed the
scorch mark on his skin.
Sue took her coffee and sipped with greed. A look of
peace came over her face and she sat back, grinning at Henry.
He smiled, taking a worn bandana to wipe away a white
mustache on her lip.
“Mama says you ain’t been to church in a while,
honey,” he said.
Church? Benny scowled.
Flushing, Sue glanced away. “JJ don’t like it.
Sunday is a . . . it’s a good day for johns.”
“I know.” Henry sighed. “Honey, you can come
live with us –”
Eyes wide and terrified, Sue stared at him. “No,”
she hissed, glancing around. “The judge would kill you. He’d do it his own
self and laugh all the while.”
“Can only kill the body,” Henry said, his face
grave. “My soul is safe enough. That old woman, that sacred-person, she says
she saw him a-laying dead in the snow.” One eye closed in something of an
unholy wink and Benny grinned in admiration. Henry whispered, “It still
winter, now, ain’t it?”
She glanced away. “He owns too many folks. Ain’t
nobody gonna kill him ‘cause he’s too high in the Party.”
A chubby anglo staggered into the bar. A second man
followed him. Pinned to the silken, sleet-spotted high school jackets they wore
was a plastic shield that stated GUEST in three languages. Over that was
embossed the street colors of Lord Penn.
Taking a deep breath, Sue gulped the coffee, then slid
out.
“Well, got to get to work.”
“Child, no,” Henry whispered. He tried to catcher
eyes but she looked away.
Pasting a smile on her face, Sue strutted up to the
pair.
“Hi, I’m Susie, your welcoming committee.” They
grinned and she leaned close to the first man, whispering in his ear, “All
things come cheaper in pair.” Sliding away, she winked, heading for a narrow
door to the right of the bar. Both men and Benny stumbled along behind her.
Black fire roared around Benny. He was torn away to tumble
through a patch of willow trees with the shrapnel that had been the Red Sun
motorcycle shrieking around him and shattering the limbs.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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