tough as studs.
“They got some fancy con to lay on a fine young whore. If your game ain’t tight, you’ll blow your girl fast. How long you had her? What kind of wheels you got?”
I said, “About a week, but I got her up tight. The Bitch loves me. Nobody can steal her. Temporarily I got a Ford.”
He threw his head back and started laughing. I thought he had flipped his cork. He died laughing for a full minute. The tears were rolling down his cheeks when he stopped.
He said, “Blood Lancaster, Slim Young, Dizzy Willie, or whatever your name is, don’t get down in this town if you ain’t hip that a pimp don’t never have a whore tight. Do you believe any whore can love a pimp?
“You ain’t no pimp. These slick Niggers will steal that young bitch as soon as you down her. The bartenders and bell hops on this fast track are better pimps than the best in the hinterlands.
“You ain’t got no front and flash. Some of these bootblacks got Hogs. You’ll get that young bitch dazzled out from under you. Get out of town and be a good pimp in a chump town. Go to the West Coast. Believe me, you ain’t ready for this one.”
He stopped rapping. He sat there just looking at me like I should bolt out the door and head for suckerville. He sure thought he had spooked me. His ribbing had me hot as a Bull Run musket.
I thought, “What did this crippled flunky think I came here for? I knew I was slow. I sure didn’t intend to stay slow. I was determined to maybe get as fast and slick as Sweet Jones, the boss pimp. If I blew the runt it wouldn’t be the end of the world. This poor cry baby had let Sweets cross destroy him.”
I said, “Look Preston, I got lots of heart. I’m not a pussy. I been to the joint twice. I did tough bits, but I didn’t fall apart. I believe my whore loves me in her freak way. I believe I got her.
“If I’m wrong, and I blow her, so what. I won’t give up no matter what happens. If I go stone blind, I’m still going to pimp. If my props get cut off I’ll wheel myself on a wagon looking for a whore. I’m going to pimp or die.
“I’m not going to be a flunky in this white man’s world. You can’t convince me I can’t pimp here. I know I can get my share of pussys to peddle. I’m going to get hip to what I don’t know. I’m not afraid of Sweet. I’m going to cut into him and pick his brain like a buzzard.”
A heavy-set Greek with a carny face came in the door. I dummied up. He walked by us then went through the small door in the partition. Preston started to put his shoes on. He looked nervous.
I asked, “Who’s the big stud? Is he heat?”
He said, “Oh, he’s the owner of the joint come to check the bankroll and cut box.”
“Then you and your pal are flunkies for the Greek?”
Before he could answer the Greek came out. Preston was slipping into his topcoat. The Greek paused and glared at him.
He said, “I ain’t payin you a fin a night to sit on your keister. I can get a hundred boys to jump for that fin and the cot in the back. Your ass will grow icicles in the alleys if you don’t get on the ball. Get out on the midway and dump some suckers into the joint.”
Preston said, “Yes, Sir, Mr. Nick, but I wasn’t setting there but a minute before you showed. You know nobody can pull a mark better than me.”
I avoided Preston’s eyes when we got on the sidewalk. I knew what I’d see there. I felt sorry for him. I pulled a sawbuck from my pocket. I folded it and dropped it into his ragged coat pocket. He took it out and put it in his short pocket.
He said, “Thanks Blood, maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you got the guts for the fast track. You’ll need all you got. Good luck, Kid.”
I said, “Preston, thanks for the rundown. In six months you’ll have to anchor your eyeballs. I’m getting down right on this stem tomorrow night. You can’t stop a stepper. Don’t worry if the Greek boots you out, I’ll cop you a pad.”
I peeped into my skull file and saw that Roost note. My Mickey Mouse read one-thirty A.M. I headed toward the Roost. I had been in town only three-and-a-half hours. It had cost me only two-hundred and twelve slats to find out how little I knew. It’s easy for a half-wise punk to lock his mind. Just this was worth a fortune.
I thought, “I have to keep my mind like a sponge. I’ll use my eyes and ears like suction cups. I have to know everything about crosses and whores.
“Fast, I got to find out the secrets of pimping. I don’t want to be a half-ass gigolo lover like the white pimps. I really want to control the whole whore. I want to be the boss of her life, even her thoughts. I got to con them that Lincoln never freed the slaves.”
The Roost was still jumping. I copped the one open stool at the middle of the bar. A Mexican broad in a red satin cocktail dress brought me a pink Planters Punch.
The combo was speed riffing “Tea For Two.” Through the barlength mirror I could see a black ugly stud playing stink finger with an angel-faced white broad in a booth behind me. He was playing pocket pool with his other hand. The broad had her eyes closed. Her rhinestone tiara looked like a phony halo. She was biting her bottom lip like maybe she was taking a heavenly trip right there in the booth.
My ear cups started sucking. The dapper joker on my right was rapping to the stud on the other side of him.
He was saying, “I want my three bills back. That pretty bitch ain’t turned three tricks since you sold her to me. The bitch is dying. She’s falling apart. She can’t walk the street.”
The seller said, “Jack, I sold you the package as is. I ain’t responsible for divine acts.”
The buyer said, “Divine my ass. You knew that dog was rotten inside and needed a grand’s worth of carving. Give me a yard and a half and take the bitch back.”
The seller said, “You a stick up man? The bitch was whole when I sold her. Maybe you trying to play con on me. Maybe you stomped on the package. Maybe you put the bitch in bad shape. I ain’t buying her back even if you only wanted a slat for her.”
The buyer said, “Ain’t this a bitch? I went for the okee doke. I’m out three bills for a black dog with a foot in the grave.”
The seller said, “I’m pimping for myself, Jack. I ain’t got no time to pimp for you. Just to get you off my ass, I’m going to rundown for you.
“There’s a whore house up state with all Spic trade. They don’t spend but a fin, but there’s a zillion of ’em. On weekends they line up on the sidewalk.
“All you gotta do is cop some pills. Patch the bitch up and take her up there. Up there, ain’t no walking. She can flat back and so long as she keeps breathing you can get some scratch. Jack, she may even last long enough so you can invest the scratch to overhaul her, and still show a profit.
“The bitch is black and pretty. She ain’t got much mileage on her. Them Spies are wild for black broads. Jim, I been running down the out for you. If you go for it call me at noon.
“In the meantime I’ll contact the joint. Me and the house broad are tight. It’s a cinch you can place your grief tomorrow.”
The buyer said, “Jack, you know I deserve some cooperation. I’ll try anything to break even on that dog. I’ll call you at noon. I ain’t salty with you now. Let’s split and make the scene at the lair. I’ll pop for a coupla rounds.”
The buyer stood up. He knocked his knuckles against the log. The cute Mexican broad came toward him to check him out. She stood before him. She was smiling.
The seller drained his glass and stood. He leaned across the log staring into her bosom. I was digging the action from that trap door in the corner of my eye.
She said, “Both tabs come to twelve dollars. Yours is seven. Your friend’s is five.”
The buyer said, “I’ve got ’em both. Here’s a double saw. Keep the change Miss Bet I Get You. Say Girl, was that bum your father who brought you in when you started to work here last night? Ain’t you afraid I’ll salt and pepper you and eat you raw?”
She said, “No, not my father, my husband. He’s no bum. He had on his work clothes. People are not good to eat. It’s not nice to eat people. Thanks for the tip. Come back soon.”
The buyer hurled his beak toward the ceiling and laughed. Flakes of grayish white dust clung to the hairs in his nostrils. He had snorted and loaded his skull with H.
