A sailboat went by, loaded with yuppies in yachting gear. Sailboats down here make about as much sense as No Smoking sections in L.A. restaurants, so you see a lot of them.
Belle pointed to one of the round beams that held up the pier. 'Boost me up,' she said, one foot in the air. I cupped my hands and she stepped in, reaching to the top of the beam. I heaved, and up she went. It wasn't as bad as loading trucks, and the view was a lot better. I lit a smoke, handed it up to her. The breeze pulled at her hair, pulling it off her face. She turned to the side, sucking in a deep breath. I took one of my own - no Viking ship ever had a prouder figurehead.
Two teenagers pulled up, riding those little motor scooters you see everyplace. They stopped a decent distance, watching Pansy.
'What kind of dog is that?' the taller one asked.
'One that bites,' I told him.
'He looks like a giant pit bull.'
'Close enough.'
'Where could I get one?'
'You can't.'
The shorter one piped up. 'He looks like a big lump to me. That ain't no pit bull.'
'Pansy, watch!' I snapped at her.
She came slowly to her feet and strolled toward the kids, making her noises. I never heard an alligator eat a pig, but I knew what Belle meant. She pinned the boys with her ice-water eyes, one skull-crusher of a paw pulling at the concrete.
'Jump!' I yelled at her. The kids took off before she hit the deck. She looked over at me, bored to death. I made a circle sign again. This time she took off, loping the length of the boards, peering over the edge into the water. She jogged back, stopping at the beam where Belle perched. The beast leaped up, her paws locking into the wood a foot below Belle. She reached down and patted her. 'Does she want me to come down?'
'I think she wants to come up.'
'There's no room.'
'Maybe that's a message.'
Belle jumped down from her perch, landing next to me. 'What message?' she said, bunching a small fist.
'That they should make those beams bigger.'
'Or these smaller?' she asked, smacking herself on the rear.
'Wouldn't be my choice,' I assured her.
She took my arm and we walked around some more, Pansy hanging close.
'She's so beautiful. She really is like a panther, the way she moves. So smooth.'
I lit a smoke, thinking it was the truth.
'Burke, how come you got a female dog?'
I shrugged.
'Well, she's for protection, right? A guard dog? I thought they were all males. I thought they were tougher, you know? A man I knew once, he had a German shepherd. Wouldn't have a female dog around him - said a bitch would turn tail and run from a fight.''
'He's a moron. Male dogs, they smell a bitch in heat, you know what they want to do?'
'Sure.'
'No, you don't. What they want to do is fight every other male dog around. In the wild, they run in packs. The way the pack stays alive, they only let the strongest bulls mate with the bitches. So the litters are strong too. The way they see who the strongest dog is they fight it out.'
She put her head against my shoulder. 'Maybe they're right.'
'They're right for dogs. Not for people. I grew up like that. It took me a lot of years and a lot of scars before I snapped that a good woman won't make you fight over her.'
'I worked with girls like that. Fire-starters. Blood makes them come.'
She swayed against me, pulling me to a stop along the pier. 'Is that why you have a girl dog? So she won't want to fight other dogs and all?'
'Males are just no good. Any kind of male. A man'll fuck a chain-link fence.'
She patted my pockets, took out a cigarette. I cupped a wooden match against the wind for her. She sat on the bench. Pansy jumped up next to her. I sat on the other side.
Belle looked at the water. 'The man who said a bitch would turn tail - that's what he wanted me to do. I never had much of my own. Things you buy . . . they're not really yours. But I own what I do. He found out too.'
'What happened?'
'I cut him. Cut him good.'
We walked back to the Plymouth. 'You want to wait at the office for me?'
'Me and Pansy,' she said.
96
Back at the office, Belle looked at the street maps rolled up in a corner. 'Can I tack these on the wall?'
'Sure. I was going to do it anyway. Why?'
'I want to learn the city.'
'Okay. I'll be back in a couple of hours, maybe more.' I moved to the door.
'Honey?'
'What?'
'Come here for a minute. Sit with me.'
I sat on the couch. She put herhead in my lap, looked up at me. 'Can I ask you something?'
'Sure.'
'What I told you, about my mother and my father and all? Is that the worst thing you ever heard?'
I thought about kiddie porn. About selling little boys in Times Square. Rapists. Child molesters. Snuff films. The tape looped inside my head. I hit the stop button.
'It's not close,' I told her. 'Everybody's pain is the worst thing in the world for them. Your mother really loved you. Died for you - you always have that.'
'You think I'm . . . sick.'
'No. I think you're hurt. And, one day, we'll fix that.'
'I love you.'
I bent to kiss her. 'I've got to go,' I said.
She pressed her head down against me. 'Tell me something worse. Tell me something worse than what he did.'
'It'd be worse for someone else, baby. Like I told you. Everybody has their own. Good and bad.'
She came to her knees next to me. 'Tell me the worst thing. The worst thing you know.'
I looked in her face, talking quietly. I'd had enough of this crazy game. 'People steal babies, Belle. Little tiny babies - they steal them from their parents. And they never bring them back.'
'What do they do with them?'
'They sell most of them. Some of the pretty white kids, they sell them to nice rich folks who want a baby of their own. Black-market adoption.'
'What about the others?'
'You know what a chop shop is?'
'Where they steal cars, break them down for parts?'
'Yeah. They have them for babies too. They sell the white babies. The other ones, they're not worth too much for adoption, so they cut them up for parts.'
'Burke!'
'Rich baby needs a heart transplant, a new kidney, you think they care where the organs come from?'
'I don't believe you!'
