“So what you sayin’, Ray?” Most times I would have simply listened to Mouse and nodded where it seemed right; it doesn’t pay to get yourself too far into the logic of a killer. But seeing that we were going into a tough situation I wanted to know what I could expect out of my friend.
“I don’t know, man. I don’t have a gun on me but that’s just because I don’t wanna kill nobody right now. I mean, if I had to do it I could get me a firearm. But right now I just wanna see what it’s like to live wit’ your family an’ work at a job. But I ain’t scared. I’m lookin’ for a new way — that’s all.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. The only facts that registered with me were that he didn’t have a gun on him and that he preferred not to kill — right then.
It looked like an empty lot from the street. If it wasn’t for the cars parked along the curb and in the lot you might have thought that you were on a country lane.
Behind the sycamores at the back of the lot was a small abandoned airplane hangar. It was a big room with a concrete floor and a wire-laced glass ceiling thirty feet above. It was dark and cool in the late evening.
But at the far end of the hangar was a door that led to what must have been the mechanics’ offices. That was where the new Hangar was.
That was a smaller room, about the size of a diner. Behind the counter there was a whiskey bar and a fry stove. It was early yet, only about one in the morning, and so there were only a few people around.
“Hey, Raymond,” a woman said. She got up off the seat at the counter and swayed over to us.
“Hey, Mattine,” Raymond answered. “How you been?”
“Fine,” she said, looking me up and down. “Where you been?”
“Got me a job,” he answered.
“You?” Mattine guffawed.
“What you-all drinkin’?” she asked me.
“Just some soda,” I said.
“And I’ll take a beer, honey,” Mouse added.
Mattine sucked her tooth, smiled, and then went to fill our orders. Mouse ushered me over to a small round table with two chrome-and-vinyl chairs. A pair of men sitting a few tables away waved at us. The man behind the bar saluted.
“They know you here, huh?” I asked my friend.
“Used to come here wit’ Sweet William,” he said.
I didn’t ask him any more about it.
Every now and then someone would drop by and say a few words but Mouse wasn’t very friendly and not many knew me.
“That was drugs you was talkin’ ’bout in the car, right, Easy?” Mouse asked after his second beer.
“Yeah.”
He waited for a while and then said, “One time half’a that woulda been mines.”
“What you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” he told me. “I woulda said half’a what happens from now on is mines. And I woulda backed that up with my forty-four. No lie.”
I knew the chance I was taking bringing Mouse back into the street. That was his element.
“But you ain’t sayin’ that now, huh?”
“I’m th’ough wit’ it,” he said, disgusted. “Sick of it. All that street shit. I won’t touch it.”
“But you don’t wanna stop me?” I was curious.
“Stop you what?”
“Stop me from givin’ dope to a gangster.”
“Why I care about that?” he asked.
“Because it’s wrong.”
“But it ain’t my wrong, man. It ain’t mine. That’s yo’ wrong an’ yo’ problem.”
“But you still sittin’ here with me,” I said.
“But I ain’t you, Easy. I sit here and you sit over there. That’s all there is to it.”
He might have changed but Mouse would always be different.
“Hey, man,” a crackling voice commanded. He could have been talking to me, so I looked up.
“Yeah?”
“What the fuck you doin’ here, dude?” the lanky, long-armed man said. There was a large man standing behind him; a sweaty fat man who looked to be formed from a pile of wet mud.
“I’m looking for a woman named—”
The man grabbed my collar but just as fast Mouse’s hand was on the man’s wrist.
“We don’t want no problem now, brother,” Mouse said.
The lanky man turned to Mouse. When he focused on Raymond’s face his eyes actually fluttered. The man behind him garbled, “Mr. Alexander.”
“Hey, Puddin’,” Mouse said to the glob of a man. “Ask your friend here to let go on Easy.”
“We didn’t know it was you, Mr. Alexander,” the lanky man said. He pulled his hand from me quickly as if he had gotten a shock.
“You boys don’t have to push on people. No need to do that. What’s your name, man?” Mouse smiled.
“Tony,” the lanky man said in a voice quite a bit higher than the one he used on me.
“Sit down, boys,” Mouse said. “Sit’own an’ we talk out our problem.”
The men got chairs and sat. I gestured to Mattine and she brought the newcomers beer.
“Now what’s your problem wit’ Easy?” Mouse asked.
“We, uh, well,” Puddin’ said. “We heard he was after our friend.”
“What friend?” I asked.
“Hannah Torres,” Tony said.
“I ain’t after her,” I said in the language I knew they’d understand. “Shit, she had her boss wop me upside the head and then he beat me. All I wanna know is why.”
“That don’t sound unreasonable,” Mouse said, holding up his beer in a gestured toast.
“Where is she?” I asked.
Our guests balked.
“Come on, men,” Mouse said. “Easy done said he ain’t mad.”
“She’s outside,” Puddin’ admitted. “Waitin’ in the car. We seen this man here when we come in the do’ an’ she pulled us out an’ told us that he was after her.”
“Just a guilty conscience,” I said.
“Go ask her in, boys,” Mouse advised. “We have us a few drinks an’ ev’rything be okay.”
Puddin’ and Tony reluctantly got up. They drifted back toward the door. I was sure that they were wondering if they could just get into their car and drive away. But I also knew that the fear of Mouse would make them stay.
“See that, Easy?” Mouse was jubilant.
“What?”
“Ain’t no need to be all mad an’ surly. All you got to do is talk. People will listen. You know Etta been tellin’ me that for years an’ I jus’ ain’t never paid her no mind.”
A few minutes later Puddin’ and Tony returned with Hannah between them. She didn’t seem to want to be coming. Tony had his hand around her upper arm.
“Here we are, Mr. Alexander,” Puddin’ warbled. “Here, tell Hannah it’s okay.”
“Have a seat, Hannah,” I said.
Mouse smiled, revealing his gold-encrusted teeth with joy at his newfound diplomacy.
This time we ordered whiskey — a pint of Canadian Club with a pail of chipped ice.
When they were half a drink down I asked, “Why you set me up like that, Hannah?”
She gulped and moved slightly as if she were going to rise. But then she settled down.
“I couldn’t help it,” she complained. “Mr. Beam asked me who you was an’ what you was askin’.”
“Why?”
“I’ont know. At first I just said that you was flirtin’ wit’ me. But then he grabbed me and said did I know you. I said no an’ that you was up here lookin’ for some money that Roman owed you.”