“She was full of shit, anyway," Juju said. "I don't think so," Tirana said.
"I think she was tellin the truth," Sonny said.
Tirana smiled.
"How'd you get the name Sonny?" she asked. "I don't know how. My real name is Samson.”
“Ooooh," Tirana said. "Strong.”
"Still got all my hair, too," Sonny said, and smiled charmingly.
"I'll bet," Tirana said.
If Juju was noticing any of this, he wasn't showing it. In any case, Sonny wasn't about to let pussy intrude on what was the real order of business here tonight. He suddenly wondered if Tirana bleached herself down there, too, be interesting to find out. But Juju came first. What had to be done with Juju came first. Then they'd tend to other matters. If there was to be any other matters. Juju said, "So how come you knew where I was at?”
“I asked around," Sonny said.
"Why was it you wanted to see me?”
Sonny tried to calculate was he suspicious. He decided no.
"Couple things we should talk about," he said, "you have a minute.”
"Want to take a walk?" Juju asked.
"You mind, Tirana? Just take a few minutes.”
“Time and tide wait for no man," Tirana said.
"Be the tide's loss," Sonny said, and shoved back his chair.
Tirana looked up at him. Same mean smile on her face like when he first came over to the table. He knew for sure now she'd be waiting for him when he got done with Juju.
Outside, the night was cool.
They strolled through streets full of people jabbering in Spanish. He wondered all at once if Juju was of Spanish descent. Julian could be Spanish, he guessed. But Judell? He doubted it. Still, what the hell was he doing all the way up here in Hightown? Lots of laughter, too, on the summer air. People hanging out of windows, looking down into the street. People drinking. Some of them dancing. Like some kind of carnival atmosphere, you'd think it was still early in the evening, number of people in the street.
"So what is it?" Jugu asked.
"I been having trouble finding a piece," Sonny said. Juju looked surprised.
"You can get any kind of weapon you wish, this city," he said. "Where you been looking?”
"Well, I had to be discreet.”
"Naturally. But where you been looking?”
"I been asking around.”
"Who you been asking?”
"Point is, Juju, I was wondering you could help me.”
"You want to link me to a gun you goan use in a murder?”
"Who's talking about any murder?”
"Oh, sc use me, I thought you were planning to do some police officer.”
Juju had been drinking. Otherwise he wouldn't be talking so loose now.
People in the street here were all speaking Spanish, but they understood English fine, and Juju's voice was too loud. Mention the words "police officer" in this neighborhood, ears went up.
"I don't know where you got that idea," Sonny said. "Maybe from me,”
Juju said, and burst out laughing. Sonny laughed with him, faking it along. They were walking north toward the bridge. The crowd was beginning to thin, except for teenyboppers ambling down toward the water for their hand jobs. Behind him, Sonny could hear the laughter trailing, the crowd noises fading. It was a cool, clear, beautiful night. "Sure, I'll help you find a piece," Juju said. "That's kind of you, Juju.”
"What I'll do, I'll make the initial inquiry, set you up. Then you go do the deal yourself. That way, I'm out of it.”
"Sounds good to me.”
A pair of thirteen-year-olds were standing close together on the rocks down by the water, the girl's blouse open, the boy's fly open, too They saw two big black guys approaching, they zipped up and buttoned up mighty fast, got the hell out of there in a hurry. The men sat on the rocks the kids had vacated. Juju offered Sonny a joint. Sonny shook his head no. Had to stay clear. Had to be cool. Juju lit up.
The cloying smell of grass wafted out over the water.
"I've been thinkin what you advised me that night in jail," Sonny said.
He was scoping the area now, making sure there wasn't anybody else lingering. Two more teenagers were climbing down the bank now. He didn't have to wave them off. They saw Sonny and Juju sitting there on the rocks, they made an abrupt about-face, moved right on out again.
Black power, Sonny thought, and smiled.
"What's funny?" Juju said, and sucked on the joint. The tip glowed hot in the dark.
"What you said. In jail that night.”
"What'd I say?”
"You said to do it clean, man.”
“Thass right. Why is that funny?”
"Clean piece ...”
"We'll get one for you, don't worry.”
"... no partners. In, out, been nice to know you.”
"That was good advice, man," Juju said, and took another hit off the joint.
"But what I realized just recently," Sonny said, "is I already got a partner.”
Juju turned to look at him.
"You," Sonny said. "You the partner. You the only one knows what I'm goan do, man.”
Juju was all at once looking into the barrel of a Desert Eagle.
"Thought you couldn't find a piece," he said dryly. "I found one,”
Sonny said.
"Ain't no need to do this, man," Juju said. "I'm the one advised you.”
"That's right.”
"So come on, put away ...”
"I'm just takin your advice," Sonny said, and fired two shots into his face.
In this neighborhood, the sound of gunfire was as common as the sound of salsa. Four teenagers, laughing as they came down the bank, heard the shots and immediately turned back. Sonny dragged Juju to the edge of the river.
"Been nice to know you," he said, and rolled him off the rock wall and into the water.
There was a parking ticket under Sonny's windshield wiper when he got back to the club. He read the ticket and then tore it up and threw the pieces down the sewer. Rigoberto Mendez was watching him from the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. He told Sonny that Tirana and her bleached blonde hair had gone off with a Dominican who looked very white. "Where's Juju?" he asked.
"Last I seen him, he was with some hot babe we met on the street.”
"That's Juje, all right," Mendez said.
"That's him," Sonny said.
11.
The morning started out good.
Saturday, the twenty-ninth day of August.
Not too hot, not too muggy. Looked like it was going to be a great day for the beach. Looked like there wouldn't be too much traffic on the highways leading to the mountains or the beaches; most people who had the wherewithal had got out of the city yesterday afternoon. All in all, it looked good, a distinct change from the night before. Well, the start of the weekend. You had to expect things.
Last night, for example, some kid in a Calm's Point mall had shot up seven or eight innocent bystanders while trying to target a fifteen-year-old girl who'd had the temerity to quit a violent street gang. The shooter missed her entirely. He also got away. Last night, too, because this was a big city and it was the summertime, and tempers flared during the summer, a man threw another man's pigeon coop off the roof in an area of the city called Cascabel, which was the Hispanic section of Diamondback. For good measure, he also threw the owner of the pigeon coop off the roof. Nobody knew what had caused the argument between them.
In another part of the city last night, a kid trying to light a crack pipe had accidentally set fire to his T-shirt, and had ripped off the shirt and tossed it into a corner that unfortunately happened to have a pile of newspapers stacked in it. The papers had caught fire and caused a consuming blaze in the Riverhead apartment where the kid's three-month-old sister was asleep in her crib. The little girl suffered third-degree burns all over her body. The kids' parents had been out dancing.