repaid the debt.
Newton lived in a two-bedroom rental house set on a hill in Silver Lake, at the top of Cumberland Avenue. Otis drove the Lincoln over the crest of Cumberland, took it down where the road snaked along and narrowed for the next fifty yards, parked behind an old import with Jersey plates. A dark-haired woman got out of the import and gave Otis the fish-eye as she walked to her house.
“Whatever, baby,” said Otis, taking a. 45 from the gym bag, checking the load, and slipping the gun inside his jacket. He waited for the woman to enter her house. He waited for “Ladies Night” to end on the radio. He said to Lavonicus, “Come on.”
They walked back up Cumberland.
“Here it is,” said Otis, nodding at a narrow set of concrete steps that pitched radically up the hill and ended at a small house.
“I can only do this one time,” said Lavonicus. “My knees, bro.”
“Only gonna do it once,” said Otis. “I promise you that.”
They went up the steps, passing hibiscus and pine and a huge avocado tree whose top rose twenty feet above the roofline of the house. As they stepped onto a wooden deck they could hear the thump of bass coming from behind the side door.
Otis knocked on the door. He waited and knocked again. The door opened, and a tall, lean young man stood in its frame. The young man frowned first, then smiled.
“Lonnie Newton,” said Otis.
“Roman. Heard you were lookin’ for me.”
“Guess that pager of yours don’t work so good.”
“Aw, I left that old pager in a club, man, with some freak I was doin’ at the time. Got a new pager now. Got a new freak, too.” Newton looked Lavonicus up and down and said, “This your partner I been hearing about?”
“Gus.”
“Aha, ha, ha,” laughed Newton, stamping one foot on the floor. “Ssh, ssh, ssh…”
“You gonna ask us in, Lonnie?” said Otis.
“Better not. I got company.”
“We won’t be but a minute.”
“Look here, man, I ain’t got what you’re lookin’ for. Not here.” “Go ahead and ask us in.”
Lonnie Newton shrugged and stepped aside. Otis went in, and Lavonicus followed, ducking his head to avoid the top of the door frame.
A small shapely woman in a short black skirt sat on the living-room couch, bobbing her head to the music coming from the stereo. The track featured a vocalist rapping languidly over an easy, scratchy wah-wah guitar with some popping bass behind it. The woman was hitting a blunt and did not look up as the men entered the room.
The living room fronted an open kitchen. A bedroom was set off to the right, and a stairway before it led down to a second bedroom. A bay window ran the length of the living room and offered a panoramic view of the city and mountains beyond.
“Turn that music down, will you, Lonnie?” asked Otis.
“What’samatter, man, ain’t you down with it? Or would you rather be listenin’ to the Commodores and shit?”
“Turn it down. Can’t hear myself think.”
“Thought you was Cali,” said Newton, counterclockwising the volume. He looked at the woman, smiled, then looked at Lavonicus. “How about you, Frankenstein? You into the West Coast sound?”
Lavonicus’s ears pinkened and his mouth dropped open as Newton laughed. Otis shook his head. The Newton boy was making a mistake. It was because the woman was in the room. Newton wouldn’t show fear in front of his woman; that was understandable. But he was pushing it too far the other way. Some men were stupid like that. Newton was one of those men.
Violence didn’t bother Otis, but it was usually messy and often costly, and he preferred to avoid it when he could. He thought he’d give the Newton boy a chance.
“Excuse me, young lady,” said Otis to the girl. “Give us a few minutes alone, will you?”
“Go on, girl,” said Newton.
She snatched the blunt up out of an ashtray and headed toward the stairs.
“Not there,” said Newton. “Get in the bedroom.”
She went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
“Nice-lookin’ lady,” said Otis, knowing then that the money was in the bedroom.
“Compton freak,” said Newton.
Otis went to the bay window and scanned the view. “Beautiful up here, man.”
“Yeah, the neighborhood’s red hot. Madonna just bought a house out this way. Maybe I’ll stop by and give her one of those personal housewarming presents you hear about.”
“Think she’d like that, huh?”
“Pretty as I am?”
Still acting cocky, thought Otis. And the woman wasn’t even in the room.
“You know, Lonnie, to live in a place like this you must be doin’ all right.”
“It’s a rental. But, yeah, I’m doin’ fine.” Newton picked a rolled number out of his bag of dope. He lit the fatty and drew on it deeply. “You want some of this?”
“Maybe later.”
“Your loss. ’Cause this here is some chronic motherfuckin’ shit.”
Otis turned from the window to face Newton. “Let’s talk business, Lonnie.”
“You mean that thousand dollars again? Told you I didn’t have it here.”
“Where you got it, man, a bank? You got no bank account, Lonnie, so don’t be frontin’ behind that shit.”
“Look here, man,” said Newton, gesturing with the joint in his hand. “Word is you’re out of the loan business, Roman. Most of your clients done, what’s that word, reneged on their contracts. It’s like any business, you know what I’m sayin’? You make the rules, you got to enforce them. Otherwise, people just won’t take you serious.”
“Now you’re gonna tell me how to run my business.”
“I’m a man. Maybe I’m the only man you been dealing with lately. And, man to man, I’m here to tell you that your business is through. My debt is erased, hear? Not that I plan to forget what you did for me. We’ll work out something away from the money side.”
“That a fact.”
“Look, man, you want my advice, you ought to just go ahead and concentrate on that singin’ career of yours. I hear from a couple boys I know down on Sunset that you’re not half bad. Your song selection’s about twenty years too late, but there’s money in that old-school bullshit now, you can believe it.”
Keep talking, young man. Just keep talking.
Newton gave Otis the once-over with pink, sleepy eyes.
Newton smiled and said, “I like you, Roman. Tell you what. I got an OZ of cola in the back room. How about I lay a gram on you and your personal tree here, you two can do a little clubbin’ tonight, have a good time.”
“I don’t want it.”
“How about this, then?” Newton placed the joint in the ashtray, picked up a watch off the table, and lobbed it to Otis. “Nice Hamilton I bought off the street. It’s yours if you want it.”
“I look like I need a Hamilton? I’m wearin’ a Rolex.”
“Take it as a backup. Go ahead.”
Otis studied the face of the watch and tossed the watch across the room.
“Silly-ass boy,” said Otis sadly. “That ain’t even a Hamilton. It’s a gotdamn Hormilton, man.”
“The money, Lonnie,” said Lavonicus.
“The money, Lonnie,” said Newton, mimicking the big man’s monotonous drawl. Newton clapped his hands together and laughed. “Aha, ha, ha…” He stamped one foot on the floor and went, “Ssh, ssh, ssh…”
Otis reached into his jacket, found the grip of the. 45.
“The money,” said Lavonicus.
“Damn, Gus,” said Newton, “why you so serious? Someone forget to put the bolts in your neck this
