Raddatz moved from the newsstand.
Eddi moved across the street.
Raddatz jammed the magazine under an arm.
Eddi put hand to pocket. She closed on Raddatz. Not too quickly. Casually. Steadily. Just a girl out. for a stroll. Keep a little distance. Let him make the alley. Let him hit the center of it. Then give it to him.
Hand on the .38's grip.
Give it to him quick.
Her finger brushed the trigger. Feathered. Easy to pull one-handed.
Give it to him twice, to be sure of things. right in the…
He kept going. Raddatz didn't make the turn up the alley. He kept north on Laurel Went west on Maxwellton where cars passed at a steady clip, where 9 couple of old women walked their dogs. Eddi watched Raddatz walk off, toss off a wave to some guy in-line skating. She stood there hand in pocket, hand gripping gun, watching a man who was supposed to be dead walking home.
She was… what was Eddi feeling? Disappointed. Queer as hell, but that's how she felt: spending so much time working up to something that didn't happen even if what didn't happen was… Pissed. She was pissed Raddatz took a walk, literally walked from justice.
Eddi sat in her apartment. Lay on the floor. Lights low. Assessing herself, her feelings. Scared.
Eddi was real scared that Raddatz had switched up his routine, would never again head down that alley. Scared not that she wouldn't get to take another run at Raddatz. She'd make that opportunity. She was scared she'd have to take a run at him somewhere less clandestine. Somewhere she'd be more likely to get caught. And something she hadn't even considered: When she got caught, what was her story going to be? Not the truth. Taking things public defeated the purpose. Shit, she didn't want to rot in jail. The only thing she wanted less was to go out as a crazy cop who killed for no good reason. It came to Eddi maybe a hotshot was the better way to go. Twenty-five to life in a California prison? A ruined rep? Better she should ride out on a mix of state-approved, lethally applied meds.
Eddi felt tired, and that feeling was an emotional preview of the week to come. Another week of waiting. Another week of three watches she'd have to work around Raddatz. Another week of psyching up, of fore-playing toward the real deal. The thought, just the thought of it wore the shit out of her. But the juice to do the job was already building in her. It was seven days, at best, away and Eddi was already fidgety. Antsy.
She needed, this time she really needed a drink and did not need to drink by herself.
Eddi wound up at Vin's. She didn't bother calling first. No need. He'd be home. And he was. In the dark. In the same chair he'd been in that last time she'd come around. At least, he'd done a one-legged hobble over to the chair after letting Eddi into his joint. But Eddi figured he was just returning to his roost.
If he was surprised to see Eddi, Vin didn't show it. If he was surprised by her request for some liquor, it was covered by a casual "Help yourself." Mostly, Vin registered nothing greater than numbness.
So Eddi did as offered, helped herself to a selection from Vin's ample collection of drink. A hit of Stoli vanilla. Downed the flavored vodka. Poured another, taking just enough time to open a window. The recycled air was killing her.
She polished her second drink, then Eddi took up a seat in Vin's general vicinity.
Be cool. Eddi told herself to be cool. Drink what you like, what you need, but keep your mouth shut. Keep your designs to yourself. Vin served his purpose-a little human connection. A reminder of the whys of what she was planning: too many having given too much for the struggle to get fucked-up by a guy like Raddatz-just by being around. Beyond that, talk was not needed.
The two sat. The only thing going on between them the occasional clink of ice in a glass.
"This is how we used to be."
"What's that?" Eddi asked. In her head she'd been watching Raddatz walk up the street instead of down the alley.
"With Soledad. Hours like this. Sitting. Not saying a word."
"Hell of a thing you had going."
"Best kind of thing. Two people so tight they don't need words."
Eddi lay back on the floor, looked up at the bad Spackle job on the ceiling. "You're positively delusional."
"If you're going to take my booze, then fuel my lies. Soledad called it…"
"What?"
"Some Japanese thing. You don't know it?"
Eddi turned her head. Free juice or not, she shot Vin an "oh, fuck you" look for the assumption that because of her heritage she was supposed to be aware of all things Japanese. Vin missed the visual chastisement. He was slouched, face half buried in the fabric of the chair. The way he was, head up he still probably couldn't see ten feet in front of himself.
He said: "They've got this thing in Japan, people talk without talking."
"Talk without talking. That's not talking, then, is it?"
"Anyway, that's what she told me." "Where'd she get that?"
"I think it was from her guy. She was seeing a guy before we started… started whatever. She was telling me about that Japanese thing, rambling about it. When she realized what she was saying, she got all quiet. Bitter. Bitter for her even. Just figure, you know, thinking about her guy set her off."
"His name was Ian."
Head coming up from the chair. "How do you know?"
"Her journal."
"What'd she say about him?"
"Not much. She wrote about him steady for a while how she felt about him. Then nothing. From one page to the next it was like he didn't exist anymore."
"He must've broke her bad."
"I guess."
"Did she…" Vin paused, didn't want to sound too jealous. But then, hell, he was a one-legged drunk. Who was he saving his pride for? "Did she love him? Not like she loved me, did she really-"
"Yeah."
They went back to two people quietly sharing space.
Eddi poured another drink. Drank it. Fixed another before going back to the floor. "You look butch, Eddi." "Excuse me?"
"Not dyke, butch. Tough. That cast-" "Not a cast. It's a splint."
"Looks like a gauntlet. Looks tough. That leather?"
"Yeah. It's comfortable. And I figure if I'm going to be a victim, might as well be a fashion-
"I think she cared about me some," Vin said.
"She did."
"I think she really did. Her eyes used to go green. She thought I wanted to have sex with you."
"Maybe she wasn't jealous of you. Maybe she was jealous of me."
And Vin melted some. "Jesus, Eddi. Let me have one fantasy."
"Was she right?"
"Right about-?"
"Do you want to have sex with me?"
A yes-or-no question. But Vin's answer was: "I think you've got nice tits. I was never a small-chest guy. I was always, I mean, guys are guys. They go for girls who've got it. But yours-"
"There a compliment in there somewhere?"
"Yours are beautiful."
"What about, my stomach?"
"That's tight. Serious. That's, like, fitness-model good-looking."
"And my butt?" Eddi was definitely drunk. But she wanted to know. She wanted to feel wanted.
"Yours is… I don't think of women's asses sexually."
"C'mon."
"No, I mean, I look at them, but I was never… some guys are into them in a hard-core sexual sense."
"Some guys?"
"A lot of guys. Whatever. Not me. But yours… it makes me think about it."
"What's my cootchie make you think about?"
After about eighteen seconds of silence, after Eddi's brain was able to process that time had passed in silence, she looked to Vin. Vin was looking at her. Just looking at her.
Eddi: "What?"