“Spent it with my mama,” he said, which was the truth. His mama didn’t know he was dealing drugs. She thought he got lucky as a day trader. Only person in his family knew he was thus involved was his cousin Ashley, who was one of his runners. Kid made more money than Wiggy’s father did, who was a mailman. “How about you?”
“Uh-huh,” she said, but he noticed she hadn’t mentioned who with, or exactly how she’d spent the day.
“Santa treat you nice?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” she said.
“Two martinis on the rocks, a twist,” John said.
“Thank you, m’man,” Wiggy said, and raised his glass to the blonde. “Cheers,” he said, “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” she said again, and clinked her glass against his.
Wiggy tasted the drink.
“Mm,” he said. “Good.”
“Told you, didn’t I?”
“So you did.”
Not a trace of Spanish accent, but lots of these third-generation spics spoke English good as he did. Last thing he needed was a roll with a girl had six diseases she’d picked up in San Juan.
“Walter Wiggins,” he said, and put his glass down, and extended his right hand. She took it in her own hand; it was cold from holding the drink.
“I’m Sheryl,” she said.
“Nice to meet you, Sheryl.”
Didn’t sound like any Spanish name he knew, maybe she was white, after all. Or Jewish maybe, which was even better. You got some of these Jewgirls in bed, they screamed down the whole fuckin hood.
“You live up here in Diamondback?” he asked.
Smattering of spics lived up here, maybe she was one of them, after all. He was tempted to take John aside, ask him who the blonde with the long legs and the big tits was. A Spanish working girl or an import?
“No, I spent the day here with a girlfriend,” she said.
“She live up here?”
“Her mother does.”
“She a black girl?”
“No.”
“Spanish?”
He looked her dead in the eye.
“White,” she said. “Same as me.”
“Where doyou live?” he asked.
“Same place my girlfriend does. We’re roommates.”
“And where’s that?”
“Downtown. Hastings and Palm. Near the Triangle.”
“Nice neighborhood,” he said. “So what are you doing up here?”
“I told you. My girlfriend’s mother invited us for Christmas.”
“White woman living up here?” he asked.
“On thepark,” she said. “What is it with you?”
“I thought you might be Puerto Rican.”
“I’m not. But what difference would it make?”
“None at all.”
“So what’s the bullshit?” she asked. “I mean, what is it, areyou so fucking white?”
All at once, he liked her.
“Have another drink,” he said.
“Oh, am I suddenly white enough for you?”
“You’re white enough, honey,” he said, and put his hand on her thigh. She looked into his eyes.
“Another Tanqueray,” she told the bartender.
“How about you, Mr. Wiggins?”
“I’ll join the lady, sure,” Wiggy said, and squeezed her thigh. She kept looking into his eyes. She was jiggling her foot now. She had terrific tits in a very low cut black dress.
