Three Sides of the Tracks (10 page)

10

The Beginning

Slink drained half the beer in one long swallow. “Unc, you got a couple
of dollars to spare?”

“Hell, boy, why don’t you get a job? Every month, soon as I get my check,
here you come. Sheeit,” Bernard said then pulled out a roll and peeled off a
couple of twenties.

“That all you can spare? I got a game lined up.”

“Better win then.”

“Unc, the game ain’t till tomorrow, and it’ll take me an hour of shootin’
to get up to any worthwhile money if we start with twenty dollars.”

Bernard’s face turned serious now. He looked up at his nephew. “If you so
damn good at shootin’ pool, how come you always around here wantin’ my money?”

“ ‘Cause won’t nobody ‘round here shoot me; that’s why. I have to wait
till somebody comes through or hears about me and comes down from Atlanta. And,
well, you know money don’t last forever. Win a few hundred, it’s gone in a
couple of weeks. Less if it’s bill time. I hate asking; I really do. But I do
always pay it back, don’t I?”

“Yeah, kid, I guess, well, maybe most times anyway. Here dang it, and
don’t ask for no more.” Bernard counted out a hundred dollars. “That’s it, bud;
no more this month. You hear me?”

“Okay, Unc. Okay.” Slink patted Bernard on the shoulder. “You know I’m
always here for you too, don’t you? I mean, you’re family.”

Bernard brushed the hand off his shoulder. “Don’t try that shit with me,
Slick, Slink, whatever the hell they call you around here.”

Slink chuckled. “Okay then, but thanks anyway. I’ll get it back to you.”

“C’mon, kid. We’re goin’ messing around. C’mon and go with us.”

“I better stay here and finish the yard, Slink, but I appreciate the
offer.”

“That wasn’t no offer. I said, c’mon, we’re gonna go mess around a little
bit. It’s a favor for you helping my unc out the other night.”

“Leave him alone, Slink. He don’t need to be hanging ‘round your bunch,”
Bernard said.

Slink looked at Danny and motioned with his hand.

“Oh, it’ll be okay, Bernard. I’ll be back later this afternoon and finish
up the grass.”

Bernard looked at his watch. “It’s afternoon now. We been shootin’ the
breeze longer than I thought. Slink, you better not get this boy in trouble
now, I’m tellin’ ya’. You hear me?”

“Damn, Unc, you don’t have no faith in me at all, do you?”

“None whatsoever.”

Slink chuckled. “C’mon, kid.”

Danny followed Slink through the house. The red Barracuda was parked
against the curb.

“Great car, Slink.”

“Yeah, I kinda like it. What’s your name again?”

“Danny.”

Slink walked with Danny to the passenger side and motioned to the man in
front. “In back. This guy’s riding up here with me.”

Red eyes looked up at Slink. Red eyes set in a squared head and face that
seemed as if someone had made it piece by piece. The sunken chin under the wide
cheeks and strong jaws gave the impression his face stopped at the lips. Eyebrows
were almost white, and the skin looked washed out, bleached, the same color as a
leather baseball glove a kid bought when he was nine and was still using twenty
years later in pickup games. His father was a white man and his mother black.
But that didn’t tell the whole story behind his features; at least Danny didn’t
think so.

“This is Whitey,” Slink said and nodded toward Danny. “This here’s
Danny.”

Whitey nodded and held out a hand, big well-developed arm muscles
rippling as he did. “How ya’ doing?”

“Good,” Danny said nervously, not surprised by the strength in Whitey’s
hand.

When Whitey bent over to get in the backseat, Danny saw white initials
“WW” on the left back pocket of Whitey’s blue jeans. The first line of the
second W interlocked with the last line of the first W and was set a little
beneath it. Danny remembered that Whitey’s last name was Whitlock or something
like that. He couldn’t stop staring at the bleach job Whitey had used to
monogram his blue jeans. Whitey’s artistic ability was further diminished because
the bleach had run a couple of inches when applying the last stroke of the
first W so that it looked more like a Y in the middle of the monogram instead
of a W. Danny finally looked away to keep from laughing.

“Move your big ass over, Smurf,” Whitey said to one of the biggest men
Danny had ever seen.

Smurf’s bulk covered more than half of the backseat. He was six-feet four-inches
tall, and Danny guessed he must weigh close to four hundred pounds, not much of
it fat either. Danny knew them both by sight and reputations, which was that little
was outside the boundaries of anything one could imagine.

Danny wished he were five years younger and could just run, run away as
fast as he could. Anything to keep from getting in the car with this bunch, but
he couldn’t. He’d lost that freedom when he became a man.

The Barracuda’s engine purred when Slink turned it on, but the purring
didn’t disguise its power. Slink touched the gas pedal, and the car raced up
the street, tires squealing as he slid out of a curve and headed out of town.

Danny clenched his teeth to hide his uneasiness.

“I thought we’d cruise for a while, see what we can get into. Might find
some loose chicks running around,” Slick said and lit a cigarette, holding it
between his middle finger and ring finger.

“I guess you don’t have any problem imitating Spock.” Danny said,
watching as Slink smoked casually.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“Real cool. I’d have burned my fingers off.”

“Damn right you would, Hair Lip,” Smurf said from the backseat.

 The Barracuda slid sideways and smoke filled the air as Slink slammed on
the brakes. He jerked the gearshift in park, swiveled in the seat, and smashed the
beer bottle against Smurf’s head.

Smurf threw up his hands but not in time.

Slink jammed a jagged point of the beer bottle under Smurf’s chin. Blood
ran down the side of his head and mixed with that from his chin. He flattened
against the seat in an effort to escape Slink’s anger. “What’d I say? Stop it,
Slink. What’d I do?”

“This here guy helped my uncle out the other night. He’s got more balls
than any of you, so don’t fuck with him. You hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah, all right, Slink. Gosh, man, I didn’t know. C’mon now. Put
the bottle down, man. Please, man. I’m cool. I won’t mess with him no more.”

 Slink snipped a piece of flesh off with the bottle as he turned back
around. “Better watch that big mouth,” he said, glowering at Smurf in the
rearview mirror.

 Smurf held his hand to his throat to stop the bleeding, but blood ran
between and beneath his fingers. He looked at the floorboard, but there was
nothing in the immaculate Barracuda.

Whitey pulled out a yellowed handkerchief. “You want this?”

Smurf gave it a dubious look. “Hell no, but don’t guess I have a choice.”
He snatched the rag from Whitey’s hand.

Slink looked at Danny, who was trying to maintain a calm expression.

“Just exactly what went on at Unc’s? By the time I got there, those damn
cops were everywhere, and I hate cops.”

“Oh, there wasn’t really much to it,” Danny said, downplaying his part.
“I was coming home and saw all the flashing lights, so I parked and snuck up to
see whether they might be looking for me or what.”

“Lookin’ for you? Why would they be looking for you?” Slink cut
suspicious eyes at Danny, searching for signs of bragging.

“I’ve been having trouble with one of the big shots in town, and I figured
maybe he sicced the cops on me. No big deal. My imagination, I guess. But when
I came closer, I saw they were at Bernard’s. I heard them calling with their
bullhorns, so I snuck around back and in the kitchen window, and, when I got
the chance, took the gun away from Bernard and yelled to the cops they could
come in. I was afraid they’d shoot him or me or both of us. I know how they are
too.”

“You got that right. Anyhow, I appreciate you steppin’ up for Unc.”

As they approached a convenience store, Slink slowed the Barracuda. He
scanned the parking lot, including the building roof and tops of poles, looking
for security cameras then pulled the car beside the vacuum and air machines.

Slink stepped out and raised the seat. “Get your ass out and clean up
that mess,” he told Smurf, referring to the pieces of glass and beer stains.

Smurf groaned but didn’t say anything.

Everyone piled out.

Slink pulled a large roll of bills from his pocket, a lot more money than
Bernard gave him. He slid two twenties from the roll and handed them to Danny.
“Go in and get us some beer, snacks, and stuff.”

“I’m not old enough to buy beer. Besides, it’s Sunday.”

“Don’t matter. That guy don’t care. He’s Pakistani or something like
that. Guess he pays the cops off, whatever.”

Danny looked skeptical, but there was no harm in trying, plus he didn’t
want to look chicken to Slink. He took the twenties and, shortly, came back out
grinning and toting two 12-packs of Budweiser shielded from view in paper sacks.

Smurf’s mass leaned into the car, his blue jeans halfway down his
buttocks. The sight snuffed the grin from Danny’s face.

“What’d I tell you?” Slink said. “Was the old man the only person
working?”

“Yeah, only him, and you were right, he just rang it up.”

A few customers had come and gone while Danny bought the beer and Smurf
cleaned the car.

Slink opened the trunk and took out a baseball cap. “Get outta there,
Smurf, and come over here.”

Smurf joined the others at the front of the car.

“Go in there and amble around a little and pick up a couple of things to
buy. Work your way around to the corner that’s on the same side as the cash
register. There’s a camera up there you can reach. I want you to take off your
cap and put it over the camera. Do it about 3 minutes after you go in. You got
that?” Slink asked with a threatening look at Smurf.

“Yeah, I got it. You gonna tell me what you’re fixin’ to do?”

“You’ll see.”

Danny felt a shiver run down his back.

“Don’t worry about it kid; you won’t be involved in this,” Slink said,
noticing a suddenly pale Danny.

 “Whitey, fill that bucket with water. Go on in, Smurf. Don’t screw up,
now. Make damn sure that camera’s covered.”

Smurf pulled his cap low and entered the convenience store, looking up at
the clock after he was out of range of the wall camera aimed at the checkout
counter. He ambled down the aisles and picked up a large bag of potato chips
then headed up the aisle next to the camera. When the owner wasn’t looking, he
took off his cap and hung it over the camera, careful that it completely
covered the lens.

“Whitey, if any customers pull up and start to go inside, stop them. Ask
them directions to some place or something like that. Distract them till I come
out.”

Whitey knew better than to ask questions, so he just nodded.

Slink didn’t even look at Danny. He and Whitey stood at the corner of the
building.

The baseball cap pulled low as he could get it, Slink grabbed the bucket
and walked to one of the pumps. He unhooked the hose and nozzle from the pump
and laid it on the ground, then sloshed water from the bucket to imitate the
look of gas running from the nozzle. He tossed the bucket back to Whitey and
ran to the convenience store and burst through the door.

“Your nozzle’s on the ground and spewing gas everywhere,” Slink yelled to
the clerk. “Might catch on fire.”

“What you say? What you say?” the owner said excitedly in broken English.

“Fire. Fire. Your gas pump is spewing gas. Hurry. Hurry, come see,” Slink
yelled.

The owner rushed from behind the counter and saw the hose lying on the
ground then scampered to the gas pumps to turn off the nozzle.

Slink dove over the counter. He punched the “miscellaneous” button then
the “open” button, and the cash drawer slid out. Slink grabbed all but a couple
of the twenties and tens then pulled the plastic money tray up. Sure enough,
there were several 50 and 100 dollar bills. He grabbed them all, slammed the
tray back down and closed the cash register.

“Put that stuff on the shelf, and, when I get outside, take your cap off
the camera and leave. We ain’t waitin’ around,” Slink told Smurf.

“Get in the car,” he told Danny and Whitey. “Both of you in the backseat.
Hurry up.”

The owner was still dipping his fingers in the water and smelling it. He
had already hung the nozzle back up. He directed a customer who drove in to
another bank of pumps.

Slink pulled up to the door just as Smurf came out.

Smurf plopped down in the front seat, and Slink drove slowly out of the
parking lot and turned onto a dirt road a quarter mile away.

“Hand me a beer, there, Danny boy.”

Danny handed Slink a cold beer and took one for himself. His throat had
been dry ever since Slink told Smurf to cover the camera.

The Benton city limits were to the right, so Slink turned the Barracuda
left when they reached the end of the dirt road.

Slink chuckled. “I wonder how long it’ll take raghead to figure out he’s
been robbed?”

Danny pressed himself deeper into the seat.

“Scared?” Slink asked, looking at Danny.

Danny nodded.

“If you’d said no, I’d know you were lying. Hell, everybody’s scared the
first time. Well, actually, you don’t ever get over being scared; you just get
used to it, I guess. Scared is half the fun. Plus havin’ a pocket full of
money. Right boys?”

“Hell, yes,” Smurf said, and Whitey echoed agreement.

“The Cross Crusaders.” Slink read the sign in front of a middle-sized
church a mile or so out of the city limits.

Slink turned into the large parking lot and parked behind the church,
empty now after the morning services. The building hid the car from sight. The
closest house was a hundred yards away and set back in a grove of trees. No one
should bother them here while they drank a few beers.