– Fuck you.
Red is leaning forward against the back of the front seat. The Russians put their heads together behind him and whisper to each other. Bolo grins.
– Come on, forfeit, you don’t even know who the fuck he is.
– Fuck you.
Red flicks the back of my ear again. He’s been doing it for a few hours now but doesn’t seem to be getting bored. Sometimes he just moves like he’s going to do it so he can watch me flinch, then he laughs a little. The car smells like the coffee they keep getting from the grocery across the street and about a half hour ago someone started passing gas. Fortunately, Roman makes the Russians get out of the car when they want to smoke; otherwise it might be unbearable in here. Roman just sits there behind the wheel and keeps his eyes on the front door of Paul’s down the block and across the street.
– How much longer, do you think?
It’s getting close to 5:00A.M. and a handful of folks are still in the bar and Roman wants them out soon.
– I don’t know, sometimes Edwin will hang out partying till almost noon.
Roman runs his fingertips around the steering wheel and nods.
– Spalding Gray, Spalding Gray, Spalding Gray.
– Fuck you, fuck you,fuck you. Fucking, fuck, fuck, Spalding, fuck.
– Hey, man, is that your own rage you’re choking on or just bile?
– Forfeit, we fucking forfeit.Our turn.
Red also whispers into my ear from time to time, the same thing over and over.
– Pussy bitch, pussy bitch, pussy bitch.
– Christopher Lee!
Bolo laughs.
– Christopher Lee? Are you sure about that?
– Fucking Christopher Lee.
– OK. Lee to Peter Cushing in
– Fuck! Fuck!
And again in my ear.
– Pussy bitch, pussy bitch,puuuuuuuussy bi-tch.
Bolo is still laughing.
– Christopher Lee! That your big gun, boys? Christopher Lee?
– Quit! Fucking fuck you, we fucking quit this fucking shit game.
– Yeah, fucking, yeah. Quit, you always fucking quit.
Right in my fucking ear.
– Pussy bitch, pussy bitch, pussy bitch.
I clear my throat.
– Hey, Roman, did Red mention that when he ran into me earlier today, not only did I kick his ass, but he tried to get the key for himself? “Fuck Roman,” is what he said. “Fuck Roman.” That was it, wasn’t it, Red? “Fuck Roman”?
The whispering in my ear stops and everything is really very quiet as Roman swivels around, crams the barrel of a small automatic in Red’s mouth, and pulls the trigger. There’s a muffled pop. A flashbulb goes off inside Red’s face and smoke shoots out his nose. The car is quiet and stinks and then I start screaming like a girl until Bolo clamps one of his hands over my mouth and shuts me up.
The Russians wrap what’s left of Red’s head in some old newspaper, dump him in the trunk and stay on the sidewalk to smoke as Bolo goes to the grocery. Me and Roman sit in the car with the windows rolled down to let out the stink of cordite, blood, and crap from Red’s bowels letting loose as he died.
5:23A.M. Saturday morning on Avenue B and the streets are empty; no witnesses, except maybe a junkie or a squatter, and who cares anyhow?
Roman looks at me and taps his upper lip. He points at my face and taps his lip again. I get the idea and wipe my lip with the back of my hand; it comes away bloody. Roman shakes his head and taps his lip again.
– No, there’s still some. Here.
He takes out a handkerchief and wipes it across my mouth and chin a couple times.
– There. Sorry about that.Messy.
He folds the bloody handkerchief and puts it back in his pocket.
– You’re sure you don’t know the combination?
– I’m sure.
– Well, I guess you’re going to have to go in and get the key.
The blood is still on the back of my hand, drying. I rub it against the seat to get it off.
– No. I don’t. I don’t want any more. I can’t do. I can’t. I’m so.
I’m trying to say something. Fear robs my voice and I gasp out half-finished words. Bud is getting squirrelly in my lap. All the action and noise and smells are riling him up and I’m trying to calm him, but it’s not working because he can feel how scared I am. Roman reaches over and takes him from me.
– Here, let me.
He holds Bud tight and starts scratching him behind the ears. Bud starts to settle and rubs his head against Roman’s chin.
– Give the cat back.
Roman stops and smiles a little.
– Sure.
He passes Bud back and I settle him in my lap. Roman leans forward, crosses his arms over the top of the steering wheel and rests his chin there.
– You see it happening, don’t you?Circumstances spinning out of control, out of your realm of experience. The world you know is receding. I know. I know that the further you travel down this road, the less likely it is you will ever return to home.So.
– So what, man? So fucking what?
– So, if
Bolo opens the rear door and climbs in with a bottle of Formula 409 and a roll of paper towels and starts cleaning up Red’s brains.
The plan was that we would wait for everyone to leave the bar, then I would let us in with my key and one of Roman’s crew would open the safe. After that, things got vague about what happens to me. But I still thought it was a pretty good plan since it didn’t involve any more people I care about getting hurt. I liked the plan just fine until Roman blew his safecracker’s brain all over the backseat of the car.
Roman explains to me the relative advantages of my going in alone to get the key over him and his minions going in to get it.
– You have the advantage of being able to go in and simply ask your friend to get the key for you. If we go in, we’ll have to resort to threats and the use of violence.
I start to hyperventilate and Roman puts his hand on the back of my head and bends me forward until my face is between my knees.
– Just breathe.
I breathe while Bud squirms out of my lap and jumps down into the car’sfootwell. Roman gives my shoulder a little squeeze.
– Good. Now, I would just as soon not go in there. Too many variables, too many risks, and the most likely outcome would be bloody. But it’s getting light out and someone has to be going in there very soon. I need that key, I really do.
I sit up and look out at the graying sky. The dash clock is at 5:34. The street is still empty, but soon early morning stragglers will appear. In the backseat, Bolo is still cleaning, humming a song under his breath. I think it
