Drama City

'He no got fleas!'

'Feces,' said Mark. 'Dog shit.'

'Dog shit, sure. I clean it up.'

'But you didn't clean it up good enough. After you shovel it, you have to hose it away completely. Otherwise you get all those flies. And then the flies get on Lucky's ears. They get inside Lucky's ears, you understand?'

'Sure, sure.'

Mark withdrew his hand, knowing the dog would not quiet down in the presence of his master, Lucky being Lucky, doing his job. Then Mark gave instructions to Martinez as to what could be done about the fly problem and the dog's ears. Mark said he would drop by a solution to rub on Lucky's ears in the next few days, to get him started on the treatment. Mark wrote out another Official Notification report so that Martinez would know he was serious.

'And you need to get that dog neutered,' said Mark.

'Eh?'

Mark made a scissoring motion with his fingers down by his own crotch.

Martinez pursed his lips in distaste. 'I'm not gonna do that to Lucky.'

Having those big balls on him, thought Lorenzo, that's what keeps old Lucky angry. Unlike Mark, Brown wasn't going to put his hand anywhere near that animal. Pit bulls got all the negative press, and they could do some serious damage, but in Lorenzo's experience, unneutered male rotties were the least trustworthy, most aggressive dogs of any type. This one here had a head the size of a buffalo's too.

Mark truly believed that there was no such thing as a bad animal. Lorenzo had to remind him that they were animals. Mark just trusted them too much sometimes.

'Get him fixed,' said Mark, finishing off the form and handing it to Martinez. 'We don't need any more unwanted animals in this city.'

'Lucky's good,' said Martinez, wiping at a tear in the corner of his eye that was not there.

'I'll be seeing you again,' said Mark.

Lorenzo and Mark walked out of the lot and crossed the street to the truck.

'Lucky was really feelin' your love vibe back there,' said Lorenzo.

'You lived like that, you'd be angry too.'

'I bet no one steals none of those hoopties out of that lot, though.'

'Why would they?' said Mark. 'I wouldn't take one of those cars if Martinez was gonna give it to me for free.'

'True.'

'Lucky's just lonely.'

'Maybe you ought to come down one night, crawl into that cage, and lie down beside him. Sing him a lullaby, somethin' like that.'

'You think?'

'Show him that scissor sign while you're at it,' said Lorenzo. 'The one that says, I'm about to cut off your nut sack.'

Mark chuckled. 'Maybe I will.'

'See how old Lucky responds to that.'

Nixon Velasco had been working as a day laborer for the past three weeks at a construction site on North Capitol Street, south of New York Avenue. Rachel Lopez had told him she was going to visit him on the job sometime during the week and that she would be speaking to his foreman about his performance. She had known which day she would do this, but she had purposely not given him the exact information. She wanted the threat of her visit to be his incentive to show up for work daily and on time.

'Como te va?' said Rachel, using her Spanish, knowing he would answer in any English he could muster, a game the two of them played.

'Good,' said Velasco, a short, barrel-chested man with native features and night black hair. His skin, already dark, had been deeply coppered by the sun. 'Is okay.'

They were off to the side of the site, by a trailer. Some of the other men had blown kisses at Rachel as she'd arrived, but Velasco had silenced them with his eyes. Later on, Velasco would tell them that Rachel was his probation officer. On future visits, the men would keep their eyes on their work and make no comments as she passed through the site.

'Esta trabajando duro, eh?' said Rachel.

A thin smile came to Velasco's lips. His face carried a film of dirt. His tan T-shirt was brown with sweat. He stank of perspiration and last night's beer. She could see the answer to her question in front of her. But he didn't take offense. It was pleasant to look at her, and he felt that she truly was watching out for his best interests. Besides, she was only doing her job.

'Yes,' said Velasco, preferring to answer her, mostly, in English, telling her in his own way that he knew of the mixture in her blood. 'I work har'.'

'Esta estable tu trabajo?'

Velasco nodded. 'I come every day.'