Hustle (13 page)

Donny whispered to him, “You still got that thing?”

Big Rich might lie to his Mother, but he wouldn’t lie to his friend. “Yeah.”

“Don’t sound so happy about it.”

“There ain’t much is all. You got a rig?”

“
Yeah, I got two.” Donny always kept a coupled stashed in the inside lining of his jacket.

Donny
took a spoon from the table and slipped it to Big Rich along with the rigs. Bear pretended not to notice.

Rich waited all of ten seconds before announcing, “I
gotta shit.”

Bear waited until Rich had gone through the door at the back of the plac
e that led up to the bathroom, then he said to Donny, “I don’t know what to make of this shit. Yeah, I got some numbers, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with ‘em. I mean, call ‘em, ask for Dustin? I don’t know.”

Donny shrugged and put his arms on the table. His mind was on how long it would take Rich to get out of the bathroom.

Bear looked up, “You fuckers got no shame, you know that?”

“It’s a …” Donny was stuck. He
felt shame, more than he had in quite some time. He wanted the biker’s approval. “It’s a necessity.”

Bear went right on, “But then again, look what you guys do for a living, you definitely got no shame. It’s in the fucking job description.”

Donny was hurt, torn, half of him wanting to deny what he did, what he was, half of him yearning to be up in that bathroom right now, needle in his vein.

“You two ought to think about making some big changes in your lives. I mean, I’m not one to judge anybody, believe me, but, what you two got going, you got some bad karma coming. It
ain’t right. It ain’t right, right on down the line. This is no way to live your life. You know this.” Bear paused to see if he was getting through. He could tell he was, the kid looked like he was on the verge of tears. “You guys still haven’t told me what the hell you were doing at Thaxton’s last night in the first place. I gotta assume it wasn’t the usual funny business—whatever it was that brought you all together in the first place.”

Donny felt like he was being admonished by his Junior High School principal. He slunk down in his seat, unable to drudge up a
nything to say. Bear was right—about all of it—he was right. The door leading to the bathroom opened behind them.

“It’s in the usual spot,” said Rich and he stood waiting for Donny to slide across the bench in the booth.

Big Rich sat down across from Bear. He wore a loose smile; his facial muscles were relaxed, almost drooping.

Bear said, “Feel better?
”

Rich nodded his head, but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t big on secrets or subtlety.
“You got any of that shake left?”

***

The house smelled like spiced beef and onions, a warm hospitable smell that reminded Thaxton he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Dustin led Gabriel past a modern kitchen, high ceilings, lots of light. Gabriel saw a young Latino man stirring something at the stove. Taco meat.  He looked up from his huge frying pan and smiled as Gabriel moved past. Gabriel wasn’t sure if he’d smiled back.

He felt Dustin’s hand pinch him above the elbow. He was being hurried along. Dustin led him up a carpeted set of stairs and down a long hallway. It was painted white and all the doors were closed but one
on the left. Dustin gave him a shove in through the open door and they stood in a bright bathroom. A skylight kept the space warm and bright. The towels were yellow and matched the rug, the sink, the toilet paper, everything. He wondered if he were being held prisoner or if he’d been taken on vacation. The thought made him smile.

“What the fuck are you grinning at?” Dustin’s voice hissed
; he was trying to keep it low.

“I just … it’s nice, that all.”

“Yeah, that’s all. That’s all.” Dustin shut the bathroom door. “I want you to clean yourself up. Take a shower; wash some of that blood off. There’s a robe right there. When you’re done, come downstairs and eat.”

Gabriel nodded obediently. Dustin opened the door and started to leave. Gabriel said, “Dustin?”

“What? What is it?” he responded, his tone impatient, as though he were dealing with a child.

“What day is it?”

“Saturday. Saturday morning. Now hurry up. Don’t take too long up here and make me come and get you.” He closed the door and left Gabriel alone.

Gabriel gazed at himself in the mirror. He had a bruised cheek and a small cut on his forehead.
The sunlight warming the bathroom did him no favors. He looked old, drawn, and tired and he wanted desperately not to recognize himself, but he did. He had great difficulty pulling off his shirt, his back was sticky with the wounds he’d suffered and he could tell without turning and looking that it was mostly black and blue. He dropped his pants and saw the belt marks on his pale thighs. A body this aged shouldn’t be made to endure such abuse, he thought. He turned on the shower and stepped in.

***

“What I need is a computer, something that’ll tell me the locations of these numbers.” Bear was behind the wheel and the two boys were in the same seats they occupied before. They were moving through the Mission in a zigzag pattern with no destination.

“Lik
e one of those reverse-number programs.” Donny said, confident and high now, eager to be of help. “I know what you’re talking about. You can put almost any number into a computer and it’ll kick back where it’s coming from.”

“You think he’s using our phones?” said Rich. “We could call the phone company maybe and ask.”

Bear was scanning the storefronts, “Don’t they have those Internet cafes anymore?”

“We know a guy with a computer.
In the ‘Loin. He’d let us come use it,” Rich said

“Everybody on planet earth has a computer
, kid. I need one right
now
.” Bear wasn’t ready to go on another adventure with these two fools quite yet. “It’s been a long night. I think I need to head home and use mine there.”

“Great,” said Rich. “Where do you live?”

“No offense or nothin’, but my place is off-limits. I think it’s time I drop you guys off and continue this quest on my own.”

“But how am I
gonna get my phone back?” said Big Rich. “I gotta have my phone. Donny needs his too, don’t cha, Donny?”

Donny voiced a response from the back seat, but Rich was talking right over him.
“And what about the old man? We wanna know he’s okay, too.”

“
Sure
you do. Tell you what, let me know how to reach you, and I’ll call and tell you how things turn out.”

“He’s got our
fuckin’ phones, you can’t call us. That’s what I’m sayin’.”

There was no way Bear was bringing these two mutts home with him. He had a rule in his house about guests. The rule was: No Gu
ests. Especially not two heroin-addicted, speed-freak, boy whores.

Donny leaned i
n from the back seat and said, “We wanna help.” And, in case it didn’t sound sincere enough, he added, “We wanna help save him.”

Bear looked in the rearview at Donny. He felt
bad; he was beginning to like this kid. Too bad he was so full of shit. “Look, tell me where to drop you, I’ll go home, do some recon shit, tomorrow I’ll pick you up at the same spot. I’ll share what I know and we’ll go find this fucker who’s got our friend.”

Rich flopped against the back of his seat like a spoiled child, but before he could begin to whine, Donny said, “Okay, I trust you.”

“Donny, what’re you talkin’ about? He ain’t coming back. How am I gonna get my phone?”

“He’ll come back,
” Donny’s voice was calm and even. “I trust him.”

“I promise you,” Bear said, “I’ll come back. If I make you a promise, I’m
gonna keep it.”

“Shit,” said Big Rich. “Take us to the Tenderloin.”

Bear pointed the car in the direction of downtown and they went on silently. He cracked the window and lit a smoke. He was exhausted from a night of no sleep and his eyes burned in the daylight. The boys were nullified by their drugs. No one reached for the radio, all of them lost in their thoughts.

By the time they reached Turk and Taylor, Do
nny had fallen into a nod, freeing his mind from the problems in front of him. But Rich was still twisting in the front seat, not wanting to let go of the pursuit of his phone, of Gabriel, of their score. Rich believed with every fiber of his being the video on his phone was his only ticket off the streets.

Bear broke the silence, “Where do you want me to drop you?”

“Next corner is good. Donny? Donny, wake up, we’re here.”

Donny was awake, he wasn’t asleep, not real sleep. He was only in a nod, a half dream.

As Bear pulled into a bus stop, Big Rich pressed him, “So, here, tomorrow. Right here, at the bus stop, in front of this liquor store. What time did you say again? Noon?”

“Let’s make it one,” said Bear. “It takes me a while to get into
the city.”

“One it is,” said Donny from the back seat, his throat raspy from the dope.

“How do we know that you’re gonna show up?”

“Shit, what your friend said, you’re
gonna have to trust me. Believe me, I don’t wanna come here and cart you two buffoons around, but I said I would, so I will. Goddamn it, have a little faith.” Bear reached across Rich’s lap and opened his door for him. “Go on, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, Rich got out of the car. Donny had already climbed out of
the back and was trying to light a smoke in the wind. They watched Bear’s Toyota pull away and move up Taylor Street.

“Oh shit,” said Rich.

“What?” said Donny.

“He’s still got the gun. The piece you took from
Gilly, it’s still in his car.”

“He’ll still have it t
omorrow. What, were you planning on shootin’ somebody tonight with it? C’mon, let’s go get well.”

“Fuck, Donny. Why’d you have to agree with that
fucker? You know he’s never coming back right? We’re fucked. The phone is gone; we’ll probably never see Gabriel again. The plan is fucked.”

Donny looked down at the dirty sidewalk beneath his feet. “It’s not fucked.”

“It’s fucked all right. Now what do we do? You got any money to get us through tonight? You wanna go back to that fucking corner?”

“I got a little left.”

“A little. That’s what I got too. Fuck, we’re gonna have to go down to the corner and work for it now.”

“Not now,” said Donny. “Not yet. Let’s go upstairs and do a hit first.”

On this point there was no discussion. They’d finish what they had, call the man, do some more, then hit the corner. They were back on the wheel, in the groove, in the rut.

Chapter 13

Gabriel Thaxton stood in the shower, waiting to drip dry. He’d tried the towel, but it was too painful on his back, so he stood waiting. He noticed the water snaking into the drain was light pink. Christ, he thought, what have I done to deserve this?

The sunlight in the bathroom hadn’t shifted, but he knew he’d been in there a long time. He was surprised that Dustin hadn’t come upstairs a
nd hurried him along. He heard muffled voices coming from the direction of downstairs, the way he’d come in, so he knew he wasn’t alone. More voices than just Dustin’s and the man he’d introduced him to. Then he remembered the cook, if that’s what he was, and thought maybe his was the other voice. To Gabriel though, it sounded like a party. There was the soft thump of music, too, just the beat; no way to tell what kind of music. It blended with the voices and the sound made Gabriel feel like he’d just as soon stay in the bathroom forever.

He began to chill so he stepped out of the stall and started to put on his dirty clothes. The white robe was too pristine to wear,
not with his cuts and sores; it would be ruined. He picked up his dress-shirt, one of his favorites. It was crusted along the inside and dried puss scraped his shower-softened wounds as he put it on. He slowly finished dressing, underwear, pants, socks, shoes. When he was done, he sat on the toilet seat with his head in his hands.

The mus
ic stopped, only for a minute. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, down the hall, toward him. The door flew open.

“What the fuck are you doing up here? What the fuck is taking you so long? Why are you sitting there like a scared little baby?”

Gabriel couldn’t answer. He looked up at Dustin’s face; it was knotted and snarling. Gabriel felt a whole new wave of exhaustion pass over him.

“We’re guests here, Gabe. You
’re being rude. You get the fuck downstairs and be nice. You got five minutes to get down there or I’m coming up here and sticking that hairbrush straight up your ass.” Dustin pointed to a rather large antique silver hairbrush.

Gabriel
looked at the hairbrush and nodded.

The music got louder as he walked down the stairs. At first he thought it was disco, but now could hear it was some sort of Latin hybrid, something you’d hear at a nightclub when you knew it was time to go. He moved toward the voices and music that were coming from the kitchen.

“Well, look who decided
to join us,” the cowboy said. The hat was off now, but he still looked like a cowboy.

“Hello,” said Gabriel. He hated hearing the meekness in his own voice.

“Hungry? I think the meat is still warm. Raphael?” he said, turning his attention to the young Latino helper, “see if that meat is still hot. Get Mr. Thaxton a plate.”

Gabriel looked at the counter where they were si
tting, a high marble island with tall stools lined around it. There were three plates of food already set out. They looked like they had barely been touched. Three beers sat in tall, thin glasses and, beyond that, a square silver piece of mirror with several lines of white powder cut into neat little rows. 

The man
, his host, noticed Gabriel eyeing the drugs and said, “You want some blow?”

Gabriel thought fo
r a moment about the numbing anesthetic affect of cocaine and wished he could pour it over the burns on his back. “No,” he said.

“You like a taco? Y
ou want avocado? Let me make one for you. You like cilantro? Maybe just a little bit? Give me one minute, I fix you a plate,” said Raphael. The young man was full of life, energy, and, now Gabriel was noticing, very good-looking.

“Sit
down, sit down, Gabriel,” the cowboy was saying, “Let me pour you a nice cold beer.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve
forgotten your name already.”

The man
was pulling a beer from the fridge and popping off the cap. He turned to Gabriel and said, “I’m sorry, we rushed you in here, we didn’t get a chance to say anything but hello. I’m Terrence Halford. You can call me Terry. This is my place, my palace. Make yourself at home.” Then to Raphael, “
Me casa, su casa
, eh, Raphael?”

“That’s right,” Raphael sang back to him,
gyrating his hips to the beat while he fussed over Gabriel’s taco plate.

Halford
, thought Gabriel, I know that name. He watched the man pick up a straw and bend over the mirror to inhale a stout line of the blow.

“I know who you are,”
said Gabriel, the fog clearing. “You’re an attorney.”

Terrence straighten
ed up, his face tight from the coke, and smiled. “Used to be. Not anymore.”

Gabriel saw in his grin that his teeth were perfect and white. They were false.

***

Bear had come home, didn’t bother to lock the front door, and splayed himself out on the couch. He slept for five fitful hours until he was woken up by his phone. He reached for his pocket before remembering that his cell was gone. It was the home phone that was ringing. He let it ring. After about three more minutes, it started ringing again. This time Bear got up to answer.

“Hello,” he said, although he wasn’t sure if his voice made any noise.

“Hello?” said the voice on the other end. “Hello?”
He tried again. “Yeah, hello.”

“Bear?
I’m so sorry to bother you at home. It sounds like I woke you up.”

He recognized the voice immediately. It was
Thaxton’s secretary, Beatrice.

“Bean, that you?
You didn’t wake me; I was just, uh, napping. What’s up?”

“Bear, I didn’t want to call you, but I don’t know what else to do. You were Mr.
Thaxton’s last appointment on Friday. I haven’t seen him since. He hasn’t been answering his calls. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Ap
pointment? That was last Friday—a week ago. He hasn’t been into the office since then?”

“No. He’s called on the phone a few times, but he hasn’t made any of his meetings. He had me cancel everything.
I know sometimes he keeps a funny schedule, but Mr. Spreckle is quite concerned and I’m starting to worry now, too. Have you heard from him?”

She
was trying to sound composed, but Bear could hear the shaking in her larynx; she was scared. He wondered if she’d had a few drinks to get up the courage to call.

“Only once,” he said.

“Is he okay? Is he sick?”

“Bean, why don’t you gi
ve me a day to try to reach him. Let me poke around and see what I can find, then I’ll give you a call.”

“
Thank you, Bear. I really would appreciate anything you can do. Let me give you my cell number. If you find out anything, please, call me right away. Even if it’s late, please call.”

She recited the number and Bear scratched it down on
a piece of paper stuck under a magnet on the fridge.

“Bean?”

“Yes, Bear.”

“When you finally gave me your number, I
was hoping it’d be under different circumstances.”

She didn’t appreciate the flirt, but her voice softened just a lit
tle. Bear felt stupid the moment the comment left his lips.

“Seriously,” she said, “i
f you find out anything, call.”

They said goodbye
and hung up. He was awake now; time to get to work. He pulled the most prominent numbers he’d collected from Dustin’s notebook and sat down in front of his computer. He started to pump the phone numbers from the top of his list into the search engine. He then focused on the numbers that were cross-referenced with the ones from Gilly’s phone. The calls made and received. The sites weren’t being very helpful. The information they gave was barebones. Once the number was fed in, it spat back an inaccurate blip on a map of San Francisco—and they were all San Francisco numbers. That was about it, all it would tell him. He could have figured that out on his own. Bear stopped and lit a Camel. He sat back in his chair and tried to think back on exactly what Gilly had said. Two names: Terrence and Gavin. Something about an attorney. The bitch at the door mentioned an old guy, but he assumed that meant Thaxton. Christ, he couldn’t imagine Thaxton being dragged through that shooting gallery. If it was him, the old fucker had to be under duress to even sit down in that shit-hole. Bear checked the numbers taken from the phone. No Gavin, one Terrence, one Terry. Terry L. He typed in Terrence’s number. No result. Then he put in Terry L’s number into the computer. It had a 415 area code, but it came back as a Marin location. Southern Marin. He knew these things didn’t pinpoint exactly where a private number came from, but he knew from experience it was roughly accurate. Marin. His neck of the woods.

Who was this Terry L? He had to be a
scumbag; otherwise his number wouldn’t be sitting in this punk’s phone and Dustin’s little black book. Bear smoked and wondered who would know such a person in Marin. He decided the best place for him to find out would be the Roadhouse. If there was any information to be had, he could get it there. If there wasn’t, well, then he’d spend a little time with Sheila, have a few beers, and forget about this shit for a minute or two.

***

Big Rich and Donny had gone back to Rich’s hotel room. The boys first did their hits—what was left in Rich’s pockets—and smoked a bit of the raw, soapy speed that Rich seemed to have an endless supply of, and then decided to call Jose to cop. Jose was the best deal for what cash they had left. They wandered the nearby Tenderloin streets trying to find a payphone, cursing Dustin the whole way for stealing their cells. By the time they were done, it was nearly eight o’clock. They were good and high, but out of money and out of drugs, save for the few Vicodins they’d lifted from Gabriel’s house.

“We better start thinking about what we’re
gonna do,” said Donny.

“What’d
ya mean, what’re we gonna do?”

“I’m out, you’re out
, right? We gotta have it together tomorrow when Bear is picking us up. We got to make sure we’re well. What if we end up on some wild goose chase? I don’t wanna be gettin’ sick half-way through.”

“What t
he fuck else we gonna do, Donny? We gotta go down to the corner to find some money.”

“One last time.”

“Right, one last time.” Rich’s tone was thick with sarcasm.

“
I been thinking. What’ll that old man give us for saving his ass? We rescue him from that freak, gotta be worth something.”

“That’s what that biker is thinking, too.”

“I know, I know,” said Donny, “but there’s enough to go around. He gives us a sweet reward; we wait a few weeks, then hit him with the video.”

“
If
I get my phone back. No phone, no video: no point.”

Donny looked at Rich
, wondering why he was being so snide. His tone had changed; he kept shooting down everything Donny said. Rich seemed, for the first time, resigned to giving up on their plan.

“You don’t think Bear’s
gonna show tomorrow, do you?”

“I’m just
sayin’, don’t be surprised if he don’t. I mean, why would he?”

“Because he said he would.”

“Jesus, Donny, maybe you should see
if that biker’s got any dough. You can go suck his dick tonight, let him be your Daddy.”

Donny let the comment hang in the air. He wasn’t sure how to respond.
He hated Rich for his cynicism, for his instinctual inability to trust anyone. He didn’t want to end up that way, with that black hole for a heart. He looked around the room—the dirty spoon, the dirty floor—at anything but Big Rich. He lit a cigarette, got up, and went to the window. It looked cold outside, windy. Scraps of garbage were blowing down Eddy Street.

Big Rich softened his tone, “C’mon,” he said. “The sooner we get down there, the sooner we get back. We’ll cop, get
higher’n fuck. Everything’ll be alright.”

“One last time,” said Donny. It didn’t
even sound like
he
believed it now.