Time was running out. Already Leonard was slipping shells into that double-barrel. Beard the lion in his den, I thought.
I went over to the guy in the blue suit. I said, “There’s a girl I’m looking for. A Tillie. She here?”
The guy studied me. The guy with him, Cement Head, studied me too. “No,” he said. “There used to be a Tillie here, but she’s not here anymore.”
“Where’d she go?”
Cement Head said, “She ain’t anywhere close. If you want loving tonight, Tillie’s out.”
Blue Suit turned his head and looked at Cement Head. There didn’t seem to be any expression on his face, but there was certainly an expression on Cement Head’s face. Fear.
Blue Suit turned back to me and gave me a smile. His face didn’t go along with the jock build. It was very suave and assured. Here was a man who didn’t have to pay for pussy and knew you did.
“There’s plenty of girls here can do it for you,” Blue Suit said.
A log shifted in the fireplace, crackled. I jumped a little.
“Nervous, aren’t you?” said Blue Suit.
“My first time in a whorehouse,” I said.
He smiled, “Well, we sure wouldn’t have figured that.”
Cement Head laughed on cue, but didn’t overdo it.
Blue Suit said, “That little redhead you were talking to can do more tricks with your dick than a monkey on a jungle gym. My advice is you latch on to her. Though it looks like she’ll be occupied for a while.”
I looked to see her going upstairs with a man on her arm. He was feeling her ass and she was smiling like there wasn’t anything better in the world to her than a strange man’s hand up her crack.
“She’s good,” Blue Suit said. “I promise you that. And they don’t come any cleaner.”
“She’s got that new car smell, then,” I said.
He smiled at me. “That’s right. She may not be new, but she smells new.”
I gave a good leer and went back into the crowd. I wasn’t sure what to do next, but the next moment, a lot of decisions were made for me.
Through the half-open door came someone I knew.
He was wearing an expensive-cut gray Western suit, little gray boots with red jalapenos stitched onto them, and he had on a white ten gallon hat big enough to cook chili in.
It was Red, the midget. Beside him was Wilber, wearing a neck brace. First thing they saw as they entered was me.
13
A lot of things went through my head right then, but none of them told me why the midget and Wilber were here. From what they’d said their lives were on the line and this would be the last place they should be.
But there they were, standing just inside the door, looking at me as if they had just sighted the Virgin Mary in see-through panties and high heels.
I think it took the midget a moment to put it together, but I could tell Wilber knew who I was right away. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened. I believe he and I were mirror images at that moment.
Wilber reached down and got hold of the shoulder of the midget’s suit, trying to alert him, but there was no need. Red had figured it out. Wilber bent down and Red said something in his ear, then smiled at me. Red walked behind one of the couches and over toward the fireplace.
I stood there a moment, trying to decide what to do. One thing was certain. The pickle was out of the jar.
I started walking slowly toward the door, hoping Wilber would let me pass, and knowing he wouldn’t. I tried to go wide to his right, but he said, “I don’t think so.”
I didn’t hesitate. I kicked out hard and caught Wilber in the thigh with the toe of my shoe. It was a good shot, right where the muscles group, and he let out a grunt and bent over. I shifted slightly away from him and snapped my foot up in a back hook and caught him with my heel in the face as he was bent. I made a run for it then, but one of the big guys in the hand-tailored suits appeared. He was so large that when he stood in front of the door it disappeared.
I faked by raising my hand, and he looked up, and I kicked him in the balls, trying to make a field goal somewhere in Central Texas.
It was a good ball shot, but either this guy had nuts of steel or had used so many steroids his ’nads had gone to seed, because all he did was make with a grunt and come at me.
I couldn’t deal with his size and strength, so I tried to sidestep, but I bumped up against somebody, one of the girls, a customer, whatever, and he hit me with a glancing right that jolted me so hard the coins in my pants pocket changed denomination.
I tried to hit him back, but found it hard to do from the floor. And besides, the ceiling was falling on me.
Or so it seemed. It was No Balls coming down on me, and he had hold of my coat and was lifting me. He drew back his fist. At that moment I was so stunned, I sort of welcomed any blow he might give me, but there was still enough reflex in me, still enough of the fighter, that I responded by poking my fingers into his eyes.
He barked, dropped me. I rolled against someone, tried to get up. But the someone was Wilber. He hooked his arm over the back of my head, under my neck, had me in a guillotine choke. I stomped his foot and grabbed one of
