– Drink first, then business.
I toss down the shot. Everyone hollers and knockstheir own back. It hits my stomach and I almost choke it back up. It stays down. And I wish for another. Edwin hugs me again, puts an arm around my shoulder and moves me a few feet down the bar away from the group.
– OK, man, OK. Now, what’s up, what do you need from the safe? Hope you don’t thinkya got any moneycomin ’ toya ’cause I’mdockin ’ all your pay tillyacome back.
– No, man.
– Seriously, though, you need cash? You need it, you can have it.
– No, Edwin, man, I need that envelope, that envelope I gave you the other night.
He looks at me.
– Envelope?
– The envelope I gave you to put in the safe. It has a key init, I need it right now, man, the envelope with the key, fast.
He puts a hand on my shoulder.
– Hank, man, I’m sorry, but you didn’t give me no envelope the other night, no envelope and no key.
The music segues into “Love Lies Bleeding.” How long have I been in here? Five minutes?Ten? Not ten, between five and ten. How long will Roman sit out there? How much time will be too much?
– Edwin, don’t fuck around, I know I gave you that key.
– And I know you didn’t give me shit that night except a pain in my ass from being so fucking drunk, which is why you can’t remember what you gave me or didn’t fucking give me. Your key is not in the safe.Period.
The bar hounds are all singing along to the jukebox, Lisa behind the bar leading them. Edwin and I are at the very back of the bar, where there are four doors. The two doors on the left are bathrooms, the one straight back is for the little box of an office where the safe is and the one on the right opens on a little courtyard. The yard is shared with most of the buildings around the block; it’s clogged with garbage and the only way in or out is through one of the other buildings’ back doors or up the collection of rickety fire escapes.
– Edwin, I’m in trouble.
– Yeah, Ikinda figured that.
– Big trouble, Edwin.
– What is it?
– Guys are looking for me, Edwin, coming for me.
– Those fucks that beat you up?
– Yeah, but worse. Edwin, they’re here, they’re coming here. Oh, God! Oh, fuck! Edwin, I’m sorry, man.Big trouble, Edwin. It’s big trouble.
– No problem.
His little coked-out eyes are shining. Edwin likes to fight. Back in the late sixties, early seventies, he rode with a gang in St. Louis called the Sable Slaves; picture a cross between theHell’s Angels and the Black Panthers. When he takes his shirt off, Edwin’s black skin is covered in a mixture of tattoos and scars. Tattoos of naked women, spiders, daggers, skeletons, dragons, and a big one on his back of a Klansman strapped to a burning cross. Scars from motorcycle timing chains, knives, baseball bats with nails driven into them, broken beer bottles, and at least one from a bullet. Edwin is the toughest fucker I’ve ever seen, and he likes to fight. He smells a good fight right now.
– Trouble’s no problem, Hank. Bring it on. Bring.It. On.
– Edwin, no, no. No!We, we, we. Listen, man, we need to go now, we need to take everyone out the back door and get the fuck out of here.
– The fuck you say. The fuck I’m gonnachase my friends out, get run out of my own bar.
I’ve started opening the locks on the back door. Edwin is trying to stop me, grabbing at my hands, but not wanting to hurt me.
– EDWIN! HEY, EDWIN!
Sunday is at the front door, looking out the little window. She yells over the music again, still looking out the window.
– EDWIN, THERE’S A BIG GUY OUT HERE WANTS IN. SHOULD I LET ’IM?
We stop wrestling with the locks and look at Sunday. There is only the sound of breaking glass as the window in the front door shatters. Sunday’s head snaps back and she drops to the floor with a little black hole drilled in her nose. Bolo’s huge brown hand smashes through what’s left of the window and starts groping around for the dead bolt. Edwin has started running in that direction as I flip the last lock and open the back door. Blackie and Whitey are standing there, their tracksuits dirty from coming over the rooftops. They’re holding the kind of pistol-size machine guns that look like toys but aren’t. Bolo gets the front door open and steps in and Edwin barrels into him sending the gun he used to kill Sunday spinning to the floor. Bolo does the easiest thing: he lets himself fall forward, pinning Edwin between his own enormous mass and Sunday’s corpse. Edwin can’t get a limb free to strike at him but keeps trying until Roman steps in, closes and locks the door, picks up the fallen pistol and sticks it in Edwin’s ear. “Love Lies Bleeding” ends. No more music plays on the jukebox.
– You have to jiggle it a little.
Roman is trying to open the safe. Edwin has repeated the combination to him several times backward and forward and from the middle, but Roman can’t get the safe open.
– I told you, you have to jiggle when you spin right. It’s fussy.
Roman tries again.
– No, don’t jiggle on the number, just between and not when you go back to nine.
Roman tries again.
– Jiggle, not shake. Jiggle.
Roman tries.
– Just, fuck, will you just let me fucking do it?
The safe is set in the floor under the desk that is against the wall opposite the door. A little panel in the floorboards flips up and you have to cram yourself half under the desk to reach over the trapdoor and spin the tumbler. Roman is squatting down there, sweating. Edwin and I are pressed against the wall next to the door and Bolo stands just outside, unable to squeeze into the room. The Russians have everybody else packed on the floor behind the bar, keeping them covered with their nasty little guns.
The sound of crying carries clearly into the office. I can hear Wayne saying Sunday’s name over and over and Lisa trying to shush him.
Roman tries again.
– Just. Let. Me. Do.It.
Roman looks at Edwin and wipes the sweat from his forehead. They came in about six minutes ago and it’s clearly five more than he intended to be here.
– You gave me the right combination?
– It’s fussy, I told you that. So just let me open it.
Roman unfolds from the tiny space.
– You will work the combination. You will open the safe. You will step away. You will not reach into the safe or I will kill you. Am I clear?
– Fuck, yeah. Now let me open the fucking thing.
Roman and Edwin swap places in the tiny room. Edwin fits much better under the desk. He reaches into the space hidden by the trapdoor and starts to spin the dial. Bolo leans in the open door, his gun in relaxed fingers at his side. Roman is between us, his own gun still holstered. He takes out the handkerchief he used to wipe the blood from my face and blots the sweat from his own. I don’t tell Roman the key isn’t in the safe. I don’t tell because I know what is in the safe and I want Edwin to have it.
– See, just jiggle and it opens right up.
There’s a little clank as Edwin turns the bolt and opens the safe. He moves to climb out from under the desk, bumps his head and ducks down from the impact.
– Fuck!
He grabs his head with his left hand, but his right is still hidden behind the trap. Roman starts to reach into his coat and Bolo shifts in the doorway.
