Circle of Enemies

She gestured toward an overstuffed little couch beside a rack of swim goggles. I sat. The manager typed something into a handheld device without looking at me. The weepy employee handed out keys and towels to people who entered, and collected them from people who left. I heard the sad tale of Justin Gage several more times over the course of five minutes. He was apparently a much-loved figure, and no one had any idea what had happened to him, and wasn’t this city just awful?

Eventually, a tall black man rushed into the lobby and said: “You paged me?”

The manager pointed toward me, but I was already standing out of the chair. Ty turned toward me and looked me up and down. He didn’t recognize me.

He looked different, too. He’d shaved his head and his chin and, while he’d always been addicted to the gym, now he was almost a parody of fitness. His uniform—a black polyester shirt with the gym logo over the heart—was tight enough to show off all the curves of his muscles.

“Ty, it’s me. Ray Lilly.”

“Ray!” He almost shouted. He stepped toward me, and for a moment I thought he’d hug me. Instead, he wrapped his gloved hand around mine and pumped, smiling broadly. “Good to see you again, man. Good to see you. What brings you back to town?”

I was almost sorry to answer him. “A little trouble, unfortunately.” Melly had said I’d killed him, but he didn’t look unhappy. I needed to find out what he knew, especially where the magic had come from, but I couldn’t do it in a crowded gym.

“Hey, if there’s anything I can do, name it.” He glanced back through the door to the workout area beyond, as though he hadn’t meant to promise so much. “I mean, things are a little busy right now …”

I wasn’t sure what to make of him. We’d always gotten along, but I didn’t think we were close enough for him to be so glad to see me again. “Ty, I’m looking for the new Bigfoot Room.”

“No problem! It’s at a place called the Roasted Seal over on Kalibel Ave. Remember that Baja Fresh where Mouse puked in the toilet? Right there. I’m not part of that scene anymore, you understand. I still know the guys, but I don’t do stuff with them anymore. Not much, anyway.”

Everyone had grown up and turned into citizens. Except me. “Thanks.”

“Listen, um …” He glanced back into the workout area. “I’m a little busy right now. We’re short-handed today and I’m covering another dude’s clients. Plus, I really need the money.” He laughed a little at himself, and at the slightly desperate note in his voice. “But I’ll catch up with you soon, okay? You’re okay, aren’t you? You look a little worn thin. Take care of yourself in this heat. And thank you, man. Thank you.”

He checked his watch and rushed back inside. I headed out to my car.

I sat behind the wheel and closed my eyes. I’d taken Vi to the Baja Fresh many times and I could picture the intersection clearly, but I needed a moment to remember where that intersection was in relation to this one.

Then I remembered and I opened my eyes. Out of perverse curiosity, I angled the rearview mirror so I could see myself. Jasmin and Ty were right; I looked bad. I needed a week’s worth of sleep, but I wasn’t going to get it.

Ten minutes later, I was parking outside a church. The Baja Fresh was gone, but the other businesses—a sushi place, a dry cleaners, a shoe store—were the same. The Roasted Seal was just down the street. The front was made entirely of glass, but the view inside was blocked by an amateurish painting of a sad-faced seal perched on jagged rocks. The seal looked at me as if I’d ruined its day with hairspray and car exhaust. In the dust above the door, someone had traced BIGFOOT ROOM.

I pushed the door open and went inside.

It wasn’t as dark as I expected. In fact, the place was almost nice. There were circular black tables seeded around the main floor with a surprising amount of space between them. Each table had a little light shining down on it. Ambiance.

There was a row of booths at the far end of the room and a bar against the wall behind me. Everything was polished black stone and hexagonal floor tiles. There was also sawdust on the floor, which didn’t seem to fit.

I glanced at the bartender and realized he was watching me with a tight expression. Maybe I didn’t look like the trustworthy type. He only had one other customer: a rumpled-looking guy who must have run out of shampoo a month before. He was also watching me, but at least he tried to be subtle about it.

I walked farther into the room and saw him.

Arne sat in a back booth just beside the fire exit. He had a cup of coffee and a smart phone in front of him. He wore a black button-down shirt and chinos, and his curly blond hair was cropped short. Near as I could tell, he was alone and he wasn’t surprised to see me.

I started toward him. Lenard suddenly stepped out of a wait station that had been built like an alcove. Before I could react, he had his hands on me, shaking me roughly as he patted me down. I tensed up but held myself rigidly still. I wasn’t here to fight.

Time had not been kind to Lenard. He had smoker’s wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, and his whole body had gone pear-shaped. “Well, well, Raymundo,” he said. “Imagine seeing you here.” I looked down at the shaved stubble over his scalp; he was going bald in little patches near his forehead.

He finished by checking for an ankle holster. Of course he didn’t find anything. He stood and shrugged to Arne. I was cleared to go.

“Good to see you, Lenard,” I said.

He looked at me sidelong as he backed into his alcove. “You look like shit, baby.”

“I know it.”

I walked by him. Arne was sitting in his booth with his arms folded across his chest. He wasn’t even going to shake my hand.

“Arne,” I said. “You don’t look surprised to see me.”