SK01 - Waist Deep (16 page)

27

I kept walking at the end of the alley.
My leg hurt, my knee ached and I could feel blood on my face, but I knew that it was time to
leave
the entire neighborhood.

The pain f
rom my kidney throbbed, but
it
eas
ed a little as I walked.
I didn’t think Leon had done any permanent damage, though a guy his size could easily tear open a kidney with a kick like the one he laid into me.

Thank God for small favors.

The cold February night had me shivering less than a block away from the Hole.
The thought of Grill wearing my coat sent a flare of rage through my chest, but I knew there was nothing I could do about it.
Not
now
, anyway.

Something good might come of it, I realized.
If he showed Rolo the folded up file in the sleeve that Katie had given me, it might convince him that I actually do have friends on the department.
That might buy me just a little protection.

I checked my pockets as I walked.
I still had my apartment key and my wallet.
And Kris’s picture, still in my back pocket.

Not a total loss.
Just my jacket, Katie’s file and a few dollars in cash.

Oh, yeah, I thought.
And my pride.
Don’t forget about that.

I kept walking, rubbing my arms.
Most of my pride was gone a long time ago.

28

I walked through one of the worst parts of River City, my arms wrapped around my chest and my limp more prominent
by the block
.
I kept my head down and trudged forward, always forward.

The hookers and dopers gave me little more than a casual glance as a customer.
I saw them eye me up and down out of my peripheral vision.
Once, a pair of kids, one white and one black, slipped in behind me for half a block before breaking off.
I’m sure that they were thinking about mugging me.
Maybe they sensed the brooding anger I was sending out in waves and
changed their minds
.
More likely, they figured that a guy who couldn’t even afford a coat in February wasn’t likely to have more than pocket change.

Twice, police cars rolled past me, but thankfully neither slowed or gave me more than a momentary glance.
None stopped me
.

Slowly, th
os
e businesses with dark, recessed doorways filled with the piranhas, sharks and feeder fish gave way to more modern buildings.
I walked on.
A few more blocks and the same buildings were newer yet and had minimum
-
wage security
typ
es standing out front.

One of them stood in front of a building full of
law
firms and insurance companies.
He looked to be in his late forties, though he could have been older.
He had no gray hair and that throws off estimates.
His bushy mustache was a holdover from
the Seventies
.
He wore a uniform shirt that was several shades of blue lighter than the police wore, but he sported a huge metal badge on the left chest of his open coat.
His large belly sloped out beneath his badge.

He followed me with his eyes as I approached, doing so in the blatant way that only someone with authority can do.
My head ached from hitting the back of it
on
the alley wall, but I
didn’t think my face was too bad
.
Mullet-man at the Flyers game had pummeled my left arm and Grill and Leon had done a number on my torso, but I believed my mug was
mostly
untou
ched
.
Then I remembered Grill punching me in the face after Leon used me for a football.
There was probably a little swelling, maybe even a small cut I wasn’t noticing because of the cold.
Great.

The security guar
d opened his mouth to speak.
I thought for sure that he was going to warn me away from the property he was entrusted to guard.

Instead, he said, “You okay, man?”

Surprised, all I could do was stare at him as I walked.
That didn’t do much to convince him I was all right.

“You ain’t got a coat?” he asked me, his eyes narrowing with concern.

I slowed almost to a stop and managed to shake my head.

He motioned toward my left leg.
“Hurt your leg, too, huh?”

I shook my head again and stammered, “Old injury.”
It was hard to force my jaw open and speak.
The words came out more like
o-old-
l
d-d in-n-njur-re-rey
.
I came to a complete stop and shivered violently.

“Holy cow, mister,” the guard said.
“How long you been out in this cold?”

I loo
ked into his face. H
is question and
his concern were honest enough, even though t
here was no reason he should care about me.

“I walked in from The Hole,” I said, but through my chattering teeth and short breath, I might as well have been speaking Swedish or Swahili for all the sense I made.

His eyes narrowed briefly at the mentioning of The Hole, but he shook it off.
“It’s twelve
degrees out here,” he said.
“How much further you goin’?”

“Browne’s Addition,” I stammered.

He immediately shook his head.
“Uh-uh.
You’ll never make it.
You’re damn near hypothermia as it is.”

I stared at him stupidly.

He removed a ring of keys from his belt.
“C’mon,” was all he said, turning to the large glass front doors and unlocking one.

When I didn’t move, he glanced over his shoulder at me.
“My name’s Clell.
You can warm up in here.”

I stood in place, the violent shivers feeling more and more like epileptic spasms, especially now that I was no longer moving.
Clell swept the door open and a gust of warm air washed out from the lobby of the office building.
It was like Mexico inside there.
I stood, unable to move despite the welcoming tropic air.

Clell stepped forward and took me by the arm. “Easy now,” he said, guiding me toward the door.

With his help,
I limped inside.

29

Clell locked the doors behind us and motioned over to the corner of the lobby.
A
spartan desk stood
there,
partially obscured by a column
.
T
he only items on the desktop
were a
telephone a
nd a notepad
.
My teeth chattered as we walked, my kn
ee grinding like a rusty hinge.
I had the perverse thought that if I wasn’t careful, I’d chop off my tongue with my incisors.

“You should probably sit down,” Clell said, pulling out a simple folding chair from behind the desk.

I took a seat, rubbed my arms and tried to control my shivering.
Every time I managed to stop it for a second or two, the pressure built up and exploded into one giant shudder.

“Holy cow,” Clell muttered.
He slipped off his coat and held it out to me.

I shook my head.

Clell cocked his head at me,
and gave
me a curious look. H
e didn’t ask a second time.
Instead, he stepped in and draped the coat over my shoulders like a cape.

I could feel the residual body heat still inside the coat and I drew it close around me.
There was a hint of the smell of Old Spice and old sweat in the fabric.
I nodded my thanks to him, but he was already digging into a black gym bag next to the desk.
A moment later, he pulled out a silver thermos roughly the size of
a
submarine
.

“Let’s get some coffee in you,” he said.

Steam rose off the brew as he poured it into the cap.
He only poured half a cup and handed it to me.
I held it at my chest, warming my hands and making the brown liquid jump and dance as I continued to shiver.

“It ain’t the expensive stuff,” Clell said, sitting on the corner of the desk.
“Folger’s or Maxwell House.
Just good old Western Family blend.”

“It’s h-h-hot,” I said.

“That it is,” Clell answered.

We sat like that, wordless, for what seemed like a long time.
Slowly, my shivering diminished to the point where I could drink the coffee without spilling it down my chin.
Clell pulled a sandwich out of his bag and offered it to me.
When I shook my head, he ate it himself, staring thoughtfully out the windows.
Once he’d finished, he re-filled my cup and then made a quick trip around the lobby, looking outside at passersby and jiggling the front door.

“All secure?” I asked when he returned.

“Always is, it seems,” he said with a nod.
“Guess I’m just here for that one time it isn’t.”

I glanced down at the belt around his waist and saw handcuffs, keys, a flashlight and a cell phone, but no gun.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.
He had a slight
accent
, but I hadn’t been able to place it.
It was country, but not exactly a southern drawl.

“Yeah.” I took another drink of coffee.
“Thanks.”

He shrugged it off.
“No big deal.”

It was, though, and we both knew it.
As I’d sat there warming up, I realized how cold I’d actually been.
Clell had been right.
I might not have made it home without having some serious frostbite.
Maybe worse.

I looked around the stylish lobby. “Is this your only building?” I asked him.

“Tonight,” he answered, nodding.
“They have a few they send me to.
Just depends on who’s working.”

I drank some more coffee.
I didn’t know what to say, but Clell didn’t seem to mind.
We passed another fifteen minutes that way, with me drinking the last of my coffee and Clell making another pass through the lobby.

When he returned, I knew I was warm enough to leave.
The warmth of the lobby and Clell’s coat, plus the coffee, had pushed the cold back to an arm’s length.

But I found that I didn’t want to leave just yet.
For one thing, I didn’t know just how to say thank you to Clell.
Maybe he hadn’t saved my life, but he’d done something very much like it.
Besides that, my day had begun with Principal Jenkins busting my balls and proceeded through to Leon trying to put me through the uprights for
an extra point
.
In between, there hadn’t been a whole lot of kindness coming my way.

Clell lifted out the thermos and offered it to me again.
I shook my head.
“I can’t drink all your coffee.”

He grinned.
“Can’t say I’ve ever polished off this torpedo by myself.”
He pulled open a drawer in the security desk and removed a small white
Styrofoam
cup.
He filled it and then offered to fill mine again.

I held out the thermos cup.
“Just two
fingers
’
worth.”
As he poured, I said, “You’re not from River City.”

“Nope,” he said, screwing the plunger back into the thermos.

“Where are you from?”

He smiled, replacing the thermos in his bag.
“Just outside Minot, North Dakota.”

“How big a town is that?”

He shrugged.
“Well, I guess you could say I’m from the
almost
urban town
of Minot.”

I smiled back, more because his grin was so infectious than at what he said.
A minor throb from my cheek flared up when I did, but it was worth it.

“Well, Clell,
how long have you been in the g
reat
er River City m
etropolis?”

“Metropolis?” He laughed.
“That’s good.
Haven’t heard that one yet.”
He scratched his chin, looking out through the front windows.
Finally, he said, “Guess it’s been seven years now.”

“You like it here?”

Clell smiled, “As well as anywhere.
Ain’t got no family left back home since my folks passed.
And—“A shadow passed over his face and he stopped.

“And what?”

He shook his head.
“Nothin’.
I like this town all right.
It’s got its share of troubles, but most of the people are good people.”

I wondered how he could say that since he worked downtown guarding buildings at night, when all the freaks and idiots came out.

“You’re from here, though, aint’cha?” Clell asked.
“I can tell.
You’ve got the accent.”

“Accent?
I don’t have an accent.”

“Sure you do,” Clell said.
“You’ve got a very definite River City accent.”

I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or jerking my chain.
He watched me, sipping his coffee and smoothing his mustache.

“Accent, huh?”

He nodded, and motioned toward me.
“You ought to be wearing a coat in weather like this.”

I didn’t answer right away.

“You can get them at the Salvation Army store pretty cheap.
Or Value Village.
They aren’t brand new, but –”

“I had a coat,” I said.
“Someone stole it earlier tonight.”

Clell nodded.
“I see.
”He pointed to my cheek.
“
Same someone that roughed you up some?”

“Same someone.”

Clell nodded again.

I set my jaw.
For some reason, anger bubbled up inside of me.
None of it was directed at Clell, this kind man who’d taken me in and warmed me up, but it surged upward nonetheless.
“I’ll get my jacket back,” I said.
“Believe that.”

“It’s just a jacket,” Clell said.
“And like I said, there’s plenty of ‘em at the Value Village.”

“Not like this one.”

“No?”

I shook my head.
“It’s a bomber jacket.
You know, the leather ones?”

“I know what you mean.
Those are nice jackets.
But hardly worth going at some guy that already—”

“It’s all I have left of my father,” I blurted out.
For a moment, I was sorry I told him.
After another moment, I wasn’t.

Clell seemed to understand.
“Your pop was military, then?
A fighter pilot?”

I wished I could have said yes, but the best I could do was a derisive snort.
“My dad was a drunk and a gambler, that’s all.
Hell, he probably won the jacket in a game of dice.”

Clell nodded.
“Still,” he said.
“It was your pop’s jacket.”

“Yeah,” I answered.

We fell silent.
I finished off my coffee.
Clell did the same.

“I gotta make a trip around the outside of the building and then through the interior,” he said.
“All seven stories.
I’d let you stay, but if my supervisor comes by—“

“That’s all right.
I understand.”

Clell gave me an appraising look.
“I could wait another fifteen minutes, I suppose.
If you need to warm up some more.”

“No,” I said.
“I’m good.”

I swallowed the last of the coffee and handed Clell the thermos cap and his coat.
He put on the coat and walked me to the door.
When he unlocked it and pushed it open, arctic blasts came slashing in.
Instinctively, my shoulders hunched and I wrapped my arms across my chest.

“You sure you’ll be all right?” Clell asked me.

I nodded.
“I will now.
Thanks.”

“Sure.”

I stepped out into the night and started west.
I heard Clell lock up the door and come trotting up from behind me.
We walked together to the end of the block, where he turned right to continue his circuit.
Before he turned off, he clapped me lightly on the shoulder, and said goodnight.