I got the phone off the hook and managed to get a quarter in the slot. But I dropped the dime. I bent down to pick it up, knowing that the hawks in the car were sizing me up. I couldn't see their faces, but I could read their minds. If things had gone different, if I hadn't had that scholarship and been picked ninth round in the draft, maybe I'd be in the car, looking to push up on a fool.
I got the dime in the slot and punched her inside line. The thing rang on the other end, me holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder and two hands clinked together. I watched the car.
"Hello," Wilma said.
"I need you to pick me up at the corner of Imperial and Flower, it's a Exxon Station."
"Zelmont, what's"
"Now, okay?"
"All right."
I let the phone dangle and walked to the lights shining down on the gas pumps. If them boys in the ride flexed, then so be it. I'd get these cuffs around the neck of one of those studs and take him with me to wherever the hell it was we went after this bullshit.
I stood under the lights waiting for Wilma. A couple of people who pulled in for gas seemed surprised when I didn't ask to fill their cars up like I was any other motherfuckah beggin' for spare change.
After a while, the punks in the Caprice got bored and drove off. When Wilma got there, I was moving back and forth, trying not to freeze.
"What happened?" she said, getting out of her Phaeton.
"I'll tell you when I'm warm." I managed to open the door and got inside.
Wilma pointed at the cuffs. "One of your chicks get too rough for you?"
I put the stare on her. "Can you get these off me?"
"Sure, baby," she giggled. She called Nap on her cell phone and drove me to where he was staying in the Valley in Van Nuys. It was a funky-looking apartment building near the Anheuser-Busch plant.
Nap worked on cutting the cuffs with a heavy-duty hacksaw he borrowed from the manager. After he got them off, I told them what happened.
"So we have to be careful," Nap said, looking at the cuffs. "With this cop having a big stick up his ass about you, he's going to make it his mission to fuck with your life until he can bust you for Davida's murder."
Nobody said anything for a few ticks, but I knew the gears were turning in Wilma's head. "Does Fahrar know Weems?"
"That's being overly paranoid, Zelmont." Wilma walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. "You have any beer?"
"Rolling Rock," Nap said.
"Really?" I said, walking around. "Then why don't you check, Wilma? Weems has a hard-on for law and order, ain't that right, Nap?"
"That's true. It's a known fact some of the members of his Internal Truth Squad are ex-cops."
"I know that," she said.
"Then check," I said. "We have to know what we got lining up against us."
She didn't like being ordered around. But she also didn't like being caught from behind. I waited while she sipped her beer.
"Fine."
I laughed. "Big spoiled baby."
"Shut up." She sat on the couch.
"Got anything stronger than that pale-ass brew?"
"In the cupboard." Nap pointed with the hand holding the cuffs.
I got down a bottle of gin. "Ysanya know you're here?"
"Why you want to know?"
"We got enough to worry about without that dizzy bitch spilling the goods, that's why."
Nap came towards me. "I said she's cool, Zee. You worry about your end of things."
"I am, that's why I want to know." The bottle was on the counter, my hand on the neck.
His shoulders hitched.
"She's unreliable, man," I said.
"You should know about being unreliable." He was breathing in my face. Now I'd find out how long I'd last before Nap beat me into the ground.
Wilma got between us. "All right, let's not fall apart until we're millionaires, okay? You two are supposed to be tight. Don't let a woman come between you."
She put her arm around my waist. "Grab the bottle and let's go. Everything's going to be all ours." She pulled me to her. "Then we can get out of here and start over, make it good."
"You and me?" It sounded natural when I said the words.
"Yeah, you and me."
We tongued, and later at her pad we got down. Not like was the usual for me, being the macker and bangin' the coochie, or getting off on rough sex like with Davida. We were tender with each other, held on to each other and touched the other one's body with our fingertips. That was something, really something.
Chapter 11
"We got it," the note from Wilma read. "Meet me at The Townhouse, 9:30 tonight."
I'd been out running the hills. I wondered if that asshole Fahrar was watching my house and had seen the messenger come by. The note was in a big envelope, so maybe that fuck would think I was being served with a new suit or something. Maybe he'd found out that I'd put the crib on the auction block this morning, short on bread like I was.
Even though the job was coming up, I needed cash to cover living expenses. My NFL pension was nothing 'cause I had borrowed heavily against it, and the house note was just too big a nut each goddamn month. I didn't see anything for selling my ring, and Terri had got her lawyer daddy to get an injunction on me so now they were going after what was left in my bank account. What a fuckin' fool I was to have sent her money like Weems was gonna let me play and I was gonna be able to make regular payments.
There were envelopes in the mailbox and one was from Terri. There was a letter in there on pink paper and photos of her and the baby. She'd put on weight but was still into wearing them form-fitting dresses over her packed ass. The kid looked cool, though. He had his mother's wide eyes and a cute kinda mohawk look. She'd insisted on naming him Cody 'cause that's the name her favorite TV star, Kathie Lee Gifford, had given one of her kids. I tried telling her that any black kid named Cody was gonna have a hard row to hoe, but she didn't listen.
I sat there, his picture in one hand, the note from Wilma in the other. I picked up the phone and called.
"Is Terri there?" I asked after some man said hello.
"Who's this?" The dude put bass in his voice.
"The father of her baby"
"Yeah, so?"
"So put her on the phone if she's there."
"Yo, man, you don't call over here and bark orders, you ain't my daddy"
"And you don't own the phone you're talkin' on, chump. Put Terri on the line."
"She ain't here." The sissy hung up on me.
No matter. I figured he'd tell Terri I called 'cause he'd want to show off to her about how he'd put me in my place. Then she'd call back, and I knew I could sweet talk her into getting her father to back off. But even so, it was only a delayed hit. The fucked-up truth was the house was too big a drain on my income. Particularly since I didn't have an income.
With that in mind, I'd gone over to a real estate office on the Strip and talked with a chick who said she'd start things in motion.
"Making some changes? Wish to go upmarket?" She must have been pushing sixty, but she worked out, so the young outfit she was wearing looked okay on her. The dye job on her hair wasn't as good as Ysanya's, and I had to catch myself from thinking about what color her snatch was.
"Something like that."
One of the dudes in the office, a cat in suspenders, recognized me, and that got her more excited about how she could move the property Seems like my past was the only thing of value I had going. She got the paperwork underway and said she'd be by tomorrow to take a look at the house.
"I'm done, Mr. Raines," my cleaning woman Adrianna said, packing up her bucket of brushes.
"Thanks." I gave her some dough and a tip too.
"Thank you," she said, looking at the money. "Everything okay with you now?"
"Like butter, baby."
She smiled. I hadn't told her this was probably the last time she'd be cleaning up this house, at least for me.
I showered and messed around with this and that, mostly chillin' and listening to some CDs. I didn't have any new stuff, but last year's cuts did me fine. I went over to The Townhouse on La Tijera at the right time. As usual, the place was bumping with booty house music, and the babes to go with it. I found the two of them at one of those tall circle-type tables you stand around.