“That’s... that’s what we’re here for, ain’t it?”
“Sure.”
“Okay then.”
“Gone,” Tigo said, nodding his head. “You got courage, Dave.”
“You’re the one needs the courage,” Dave said gently. “It’s your spin.”
Tigo lifted the gun. Idly, he began spinning the cylinder.
“You live on the next block, don’t you?” Dave asked.
“Yeah.” Tigo kept slapping the cylinder. It spun with a gently whirring sound.
“That’s how come we never crossed paths, I guess. Also, I’m new on the scene.”
“Yeah, well you know, you get hooked up with one club, that’s the way it is.”
“You like the guys in your club?” Dave asked, wondering why he was asking such a stupid question, listening to the whirring of the cylinder at the same time.
“They’re okay.” Tigo shrugged. “None of them really send me, but that’s the club on my block, so what’re you gonna do, huh?” His hand left the cylinder. It stopped spinning. He put the gun to his head.
“Wait!” Dave said.
Tigo looked puzzled. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothin. I just wanted to say... I mean...” Dave frowned. “I don’t dig too many of the guys in my club, either.”
Tigo nodded. For a moment, their eyes locked. Then Tigo shrugged, and fired. The empty click filled the basement room.
“Phew,” Tigo said.
“Man, you can say that again.”
Tigo slid the gun across the table. Dave hesitated an instant. He did not want to pick up the gun. He felt sure that this time the firing pin would strike the percussion cap of one of the cartridges. He was sure that this time he would shoot himself.
“Sometimes I think I’m turkey,” he said to Tigo, surprised that his thoughts had found voice.
“I feel that way sometimes, too,” Tigo said.
“I never told that to nobody,” Dave said. “The guys in my club would laugh at me, I ever told them that.”
“Some things you got to keep to yourself. There ain’t nobody you can trust in this world.”
“There should be somebody you can trust,” Dave said. “Hell, you can’t tell nothing to your people. They don’t understand.”
Tigo laughed. “That’s an old story. But that’s the way things are. What’re you gonna do?”
“Yeah. Still, sometimes I think I’m turkey.”
“Sure, sure,” Tigo said. “But it ain’t only that, though. Like sometimes... well, don’t you wonder what you’re doing stomping some guy in the street? Like... you know what I mean? Like... who’s the guy to you? What you got to beat him up for? ’Cause he messed with somebody else’s girl?” Tigo shook his head. “It gets complicated sometimes.”
“Yeah, but...” Dave frowned again. “You got to stick with the club. Don’t you?”
“Sure, sure... no question.”
Again, their eyes locked.
“Well, here goes,” Dave said. He lifted the gun. “It’s just...” He shook his head, and then twirled the cylinder. The cylinder spun, and then stopped. He studied the gun, wondering if one of the cartridges would roar from the barrel when he squeezed the trigger.
Then he fired.
Click
“I didn’t think you was going through with it,” Tigo said.
“I didn’t neither.”
“You got heart, Dave,” Tigo said. He looked at the gun. He picked it up and broke it open.
“What you doing?” Dave asked.
“Another cartridge,” Tigo said. “Six chambers, three cartridges. That makes it even money. You game?”
“You?”
“The boys said...” Tigo stopped talking. “Yeah, I’m game,” he added, his voice curiously low.
“It’s your turn, you know.”
“I know.”
Dave watched as Tigo picked up the gun.
“You ever been rowboating on the lake?”
Tigo looked across the table at Dave, his eyes wide. “Once,” he said. “I went with Juana.”
“Is it... is it any kicks?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s grand kicks. You mean you never been?”
“No,” Dave said.
“Hey, you got to try it, man,” Tigo said excitedly. “You’ll like it. Hey, you try it.”
“Yeah, I was thinking maybe this Sunday I’d...” He did not complete the sentence.
“My spin,” Tigo said wearily. He twirled the cylinder. “Here goes a good man,” he said, and he put the revolver to his head and squeezed the trigger.
Click.
Dave smiled nervously. “No rest for the weary,” he said. “But, Jesus, you got heart, I don’t know if I can go through with it.”
“Sure, you can,” Tigo assured him. “Listen, what’s there to be afraid of?” He slid the gun across the table.
“We keep this up all night?” Dave asked.
“They said... you know...”
“Well, it ain’t so bad. I mean, hell, we didn’t have this operation, we wouldn’ta got a chance to talk, huh?” He grinned feebly.
“Yeah,” Tigo said, his face splitting in a wide grin. “It ain’t been so bad, huh?”
“No... it’s been... well... you know, these guys in the club, who can talk to them?”
He picked up the gun.
“We could...” Tigo started.
“What?”
“We could say... well... like we kept shootin’ an’ nothin happened, so...” Tigo shrugged. “What the hell! We can’t do this all night, can we?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s make this the last spin. Listen, they don’t like it, they can take a flying leap, you know?”
“I don’t think they’ll like it. We supposed to settle this for the clubs.”
“Screw the clubs!” Tigo said vehemently. “Can’t we pick our own...” The word was hard coming. When it came, he said it softly, and his eyes did not leave Dave’s face, “...friends?”
“Sure we can,” Dave said fervently “Sure we can! Why not?”
“The last spin,” Tigo said “Come on, the last spin.”
“Gone,” Dave said. “Hey you know, I’m glad they got this idea. You know that? I’m actually glad!” He twirled the cylinder. “Look, you want to go on the lake this Sunday? I mean with your girl and mine? We could get two boats. Or even one if you want.”
“Yeah, one boat,” Tigo said. “Hey, your girl’ll like Juana, I mean it. She’s a swell chick.”
The cylinder stopped. Dave put the gun to his head quickly.
“Here’s to Sunday,” he said. He grinned at Tigo, and Tigo grinned back, and then Dave fired.
The explosion rocked the small basement room, ripping away half of Dave’s head, shattering his face. A small cry escaped Tigo’s throat, and a look of incredulous shock knifed his eyes. Then he put his head on the table and began weeping.
Afterword
I was lucky to stumble into a job at a literary agency and to find in Scott Meredith a mentor who recognized my fierce ambition and possible talent, and who offered me opportunities to develop the skills I’d never been taught in all of my college writing courses.
“How would you like to write a novel?” he asked me one day.
“A novel?” I said. “No, no, I could never write a novel.”
I was still learning to write short stories!
But the John C. Winston Company had asked the agency to provide a series of science fiction novels for young adults, and Lester del Rey (he of “Rattlesnake Cave” fame) had written short outlines for each of the novels. Scott offered me the outline for Find the Feathered Serpent, which became the first Evan Hunter novel I ever wrote, and then for Danger, Dinosaurs! and Rocket to Luna, two novels I wrote under the Richard Marsten pseudonym.