Between the money he owed a loan shark, his betting losses, and living expenses, Louis needed a score and soon. Earlier the bartender at the corner tavern had told him he had a fish on the line, some young kid from the neighborhood looking to deal nickel bags. Louis couldn’t cut his weed with any more oregano than he already had, but if the kid was naïve, he could pad the price enough to pay the weekly interest he owed his shylock.
When he was inside the bar, he saw Jimmy the loan shark was already perched on his stool. Louis was three days late on the interest from a two-thousand-dollar street loan. At three points a week, he owed sixty dollars. In four days it would be ninety. He had exactly six dollars in his pocket.
The bartender motioned toward the kid looking to buy marijuana, but there was no way Louis could bypass the loan shark. He signaled the bartender to hold the kid off and went to see the big man.
“I rang your phone enough times,” Jimmy said. “You ignoring me?”
“Never,” Louis said.
Jimmy was a three-hundred-pounder with broad shoulders and a perpetual scowl on his face; there was no reading what he was thinking.
“You got my money?” he asked.
“Can you give me five minutes?”
“Why, you gonna hold up the joint?”
Louis didn’t get it at first and couldn’t tell if Jimmy was joking. He forced a chuckle, but the big man wasn’t smiling.
Or maybe he was.
“I have a little business to conduct in the bathroom and I’ll be right back,” Louis said.
Jimmy reached for his drink, a scotch and soda. “Funny,” he said with no expression, “a good-looking kid like you, I never took you for a fag.”
That one Louis got. He laughed for effect. “Good one,” he said. “I’m right back, okay?”
The big man looked at his watch. “Five minutes,” he said.
Louis had the bartender introduce him to the kid, who looked no older than seventeen. They used the men’s room to conduct business. Normally Louis didn’t deal with kids because they couldn’t be trusted, but in this case he was more than willing to make an exception. You could only bullshit guys like Jimmy so long before they broke one of your arms.
A few minutes later he returned to the bar and handed off the interest he owed the loan shark. Jimmy saw Louis had some extra cash in his hand and offered to take it.
“So we don’t have to go through this again next week,” he said. “Sunday nights I like to catch up on my beauty rest.”
“And here I am thinking I might be able to pay you off next week,” Louis said.
“And how’s that gonna happen? You gonna parlay the few bucks you have phoning bets in?”
“It’s a secret,” Louis said.
Jimmy patted the empty stool next to him. “Then sit here and buy me one so’s I don’t feel neglected.”
Louis had better things to do, but there was no refusing the big man. He sat on the stool, set a ten-dollar bill down and motioned at the bartender.
“Jimmy’s with me,” he said.
“I’d thank you but I shouldn’t a hadda tell you,” Jimmy said.
The bartender served Jimmy a scotch and soda before pouring a beer from the tap for Louis. The two men drank in silence while a conversation about blow jobs mid-bar became loud. One drunk preferred the use of hands when getting head. The other claimed it wasn’t a blow job if a woman used her hands.
“Personally, I could give a fuck,” Jimmy said to Louis. “It’s the idea anyway, some broad taking it in the mouth.”
Louis wasn’t sure what the big man was getting at and the last thing he wanted was to discuss it. He listened as the two drunks continued their argument six stools away.
“She uses her hand, she’s jerking you off,” the one drunk said. “You could do that yourself.”
“Yeah?” the other drunk said. “Can you put it in your mouth at the same time?”
“He’s got a point,” Jimmy said.
Louis saw it was getting late. He was supposed to pick up his girlfriend and was afraid he’d miss her call sitting there being bored out of his mind. He was about to say he had to leave when Jimmy nudged him with an elbow.
“Speaking of blow jobs,” he said, “a friend of a friend of mine, some whale bets ten dimes a day the office on one-eleven, he has a guy looking to buy the car they used in that movie.”
“What car in what movie?”
“The blow job thing… somebody’s throat?”
“Deep Throat,” Louis said.
“Whatever. There’s a car they use in the thing, an Eldorado something. A Fleetwood, I think. Some Cadillac the guy says he’ll go five large above original sticker price for.”
Louis hadn’t seen the movie, but remembered his ex-wife had mentioned something about the director.
“He can buy one new for less,” Louis said. “Caddy’s go for what, seven, eight grand maybe. What year’s the thing?”
“I don’t know,” Jimmy said. “He wants it should be the one from the movie. He thinks it’ll be worth a lot some day.”
Louis was about to mention what his ex-wife had told him, but stopped short and asked a question instead.
“How does he verify something like that?”
“What?”
“That he doesn’t get sold a replica off a lot someplace?”
“I guess the paperwork, I don’t know.”
“Or maybe they get somebody from the movie to do it?”
“What’s that?”
“Verify it’s the right car.”
“Whatever,” Jimmy said. “I’ll tell you something else, this guy wants the car, my friend says he’s got it bad for the broad did the movie. He’d probably throw her an extra grand or two she cleaned his pipes.”
Louis saw it was after one o’clock in the morning and slid off the stool. “She probably gets two dozen offers a day for that,” he said. He grabbed his change from the bar, except for two dollars for a tip.
“Next time you’re late, you’re buying me dinner,” Jimmy said.
“I’m not sure I could afford it,” said Louis, trying to crack a joke.
The big man gave him the blank look again. He blinked twice and made it all the more confusing.
Louis patted Jimmy on the near shoulder. “Thanks,” he said. “You gave me a good idea.”
“What’s that?” Jimmy said.
“If your friend’ll really pay two grand for a blow job, somebody should arrange it.”
“That’d make you a pimp.”
“I can pay your weekly juice, would it make a difference?”
“See you in four days,” said Jimmy, before he held up four fingers and repeated himself. “Four.”
Chapter 4
The humidity still hadn’t lifted when John made it home. He climbed the three floors to his apartment and let himself into the one-bedroom sauna, what it felt like, then went straight to the bedroom where he turned the air conditioner on high. He stood in front of it with his eyes closed a few minutes before retreating to the bathroom.
He let the cold water run in the shower while he thought about the bills he had to pay in the morning, but wasn’t sure his checking account could cover. He used the toilet and listed the bills off in his head: rent, electric, telephone, life insurance.
John knew he had six hundred to cover the rent, electric, and telephone, but he’d be short on his life insurance. The six-month premium had gone up to eighty dollars. He had ninety-five in cash on him and there might be sixteen left over in the checking. He would get paid from the car service, at least his tips, if he drove tomorrow afternoon, but then he’d have to hustle to an insurance branch that would take payment before they closed or get hit with a late fee.