Hustle (16 page)

When Dustin
was gone, Gabriel felt even more relaxed. He sensed Terrence didn’t want to talk about anything related to his profession, so he avoided it. As the alcohol calmed him, he began to piece more memories together with Terrence’s face. He recalled the man was involved in some sort of scandal. That he was eventually disbarred, maybe even prosecuted. He was pretty certain of the money laundering, but there was something else, something more ominous. Terrence, he recalled, was the focus of much gossip, but Gabriel still couldn’t remember what exactly for. Gabriel tried to push it to the back of his mind.

“I don’t want to rude, but it’s about time for me to turn in,” said Gabriel with a yawn.

“No, no, no. You’re my guest. Please, if you’re tired, then go ahead upstairs. I believe Dustin showed you where you’ll be sleeping.”

“Thank you. It’s just that, well, it’s been a rough day for me.”

“I hope,” said Terrence, standing now, “that we’ve made it a little less rough for you. If you need anything, please ask Raphael or myself. Tomorrow, we’ll get the business out of the way and then maybe we can have a nice dinner before you go.”

Gabriel nodded and smiled, hoping it wouldn’t appear as fa
lse as his host sounded. He went in through the sliding-glass doors and found his way upstairs. The room they’d set aside for him was decorated like any guest room, an ugly floral comforter on the bed, matching curtains, a framed landscape print hung on the wall over a dresser full of empty drawers. The only thing missing was Gideon’s Bible. There was no bathroom attached, Gabriel would have to use the one he’d showered in down the hall.

Gabriel sat down on the bed and realized he hadn’t even considered an escape. Their plan of making him relax had worked. He was tired, full, and a little drunk. He realized he had no toothbrush, none of his personal items. He didn’t want to make the walk back downstairs to ask if they had any extras.
The margaritas would put him out anyway. His drink, however, was downstairs, too.

With a sigh and then a grunt of effort, Gabriel lifted himself off the bed and made his way bac
k down the stairs to their makeshift party. The music was still playing, but the kitchen was empty. He heard Terrence and Dustin’s voices on the patio. The tone had shifted, they seemed to arguing. Gabriel froze and listened.

“
Fuckin’ bullshit, Terry. You said she’d be here today. Now you say tomorrow. But come tomorrow, what’re you gonna say? Have you even talked to her today?”

“Yes
, I talked to her; I told you I talked to her. Why would I say I spoke to her if I hadn’t?”

“Because, Terry, you’re a fucking liar. It’s what
you do. It’s how you make your goddamned living.”

“Look
, Dustin, I said I’d help you with this deal for a reason. It’s not going to make or break me if I back out. In fact, you can probably do it on your own. I’d just as soon not be a party to the litany of felonies you dragged into this house anyway.” Terrence’s index finger was pointed toward Dustin’s face. Dustin looked like he wanted to break it off.

“Fuck you, Terry. You’re
gonna help me. You’re in this far, you can fuckin’ well see it through. Don’t act like you’re doing me any favors. We both know you need the money.”

“I said she’ll be here tomorrow and she’ll be here. She had some sort of personal problems. I can’t control that shit, you know that.”

“Why do we even need that cunt anyway?”

“
Because, Dustin, my boy, we have to keep this legal. It’s going to be contested most likely, and you don’t want any chinks in your armor.”

Gabriel felt a
n icy hand at his shoulder. Fear gripped his stomach; he could taste it in his mouth.

“You need something, Mr. Gabriel?”

It was Raphael, his hand still cool from mixing yet another margarita.

Gabriel said,
“I wanted to ask about a tooth … you know, just a nightcap, I thought I’d take a drink to bed, help me sleep.”

“It’s no problem, you can have this one. I go ma
ke another. You want to say goo-night to the boys?”

“No, thank you, this’ll be fine. You have a good night, Raphael.”

“Goo-night, Mr. Gabriel. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

***

Bear was getting drunker by the minute. He, Rivas, and Watson had been sitting in the booth for almost an hour now. Every fifteen minutes, Watson would tell Rivas to go to the bar and get them another round. Jameson for Bear, Jagermeister for Watson, and tequila for Rivas. Rivas was paying for the drinks.

“Watson, I really need to talk to you about this shit.”

“All business. Jesus H. Christ, Bear, can’t you just have a good time for a change. It’s always shop talk with you.”

“It’s not that I don’t enjoy the company of you and your
compadre
, here …”

“Or the drinks,” interr
upted Watson. “Don’t forget the drinks.”

“Yeah, them
too. But I ain’t got all night, I got some folks waitin’ on me and I was wondering …”

“You feel like a smoke, Bear? I feel like I haven’t
had a cigarette in days.”

“We just had one about twenty-minutes ago,” said Bear.

“C’mon,” said Watson. “Let’s go outside and have a smoke. Rivas, you coming?”

Rivas nodded like a good dog and followed Watson and Bear to the door.

Sheila made eye contact with Bear on the way out. He knew he was wearing that certain look on his face and knew she was concerned. Her eyes asked,
Is everything okay?
That’s what he thought anyway. It may have been one of those
Please, don’t cause any trouble at my work
looks, too. He wasn’t sure; he got both looks from Sheila so often when he’d tipped a few down at the Roadhouse.

Once outside, Bear shook out a Camel from his pack and wasn’t surprised to
find Rivas holding open his box of Marlboros for Doctor Watson. Watson took one without saying thank-you and waited for a light. Rivas quickly produced a Bic and cupped his hand for Watson to light his, then Bear’s.

When Rivas didn’t light one of his own, Bear said to him, “That’s handy, the Doc smokes ‘
em for you, too.”

Rivas curled his lip at Bear the way a child sneers across the dinner table at a sibling.

“So what’s got you so fired up you gotta call me at four in the morning, then track my ass down here on a Saturday night?”

“Wasn’t much
trackin’, Watson. You’re here every Saturday night.” Bear took a pull from his Camel and continued, “You know that kid I asked you about last night?”

“Don’t even bring him up, Bear.” Watson came close to pointing his finger at the big man, but then thought better of it and
only used his knuckle, like a politician. “What you did to that boy was atrocious. He called me today from the hospital, wanting to know if I knew you. He said he was robbed and beaten, arm broken in two places. I don’t even want to know why you’d do such a thing.”

“That’s
convenient then, ‘cause I wasn’t’ gonna tell you. I’m looking for someone else. Somebody named Terrence, or Terry. He’s a lawyer, I think.”

“Shit, Bear. There’re a couple million lawyers out there. I heard once that there’s one lawyer for every three people in the state of California.
” Watson leaned on his cane. “That’s a hell of a statistic. You think that’s true?”

“I don’t
give a shit is what I think. This guy, the guy I’m looking for is most likely local, here in Marin.”

“You in some kind of trouble, Bear. You need representation?” Watson raised his eyebrows, teasing Bear now.

“I’m not gonna stand here all night being polite, Watson.”

“You’re real nosy,” Rivas interrupted. “You know that?”

He hadn’t even spoken for the last half-hour. Bear thought Rivas had gotten so drunk he’d forgotten how. Bear ignored him. “What about it, Watson, you know this fuckin’ Terry, or what?”

“You don’t have to get rude, okay? He’s thinking about it,” said Rivas.

Bear turned toward Rivas. “Look, you little fuck, I want to hear you squeak, I’ll step on your toe. Stay outta my line of questioning, so you won’t get any more confused than God has already left you.”

“Fuck you,” said Rivas.

“Nice response. You got that written down somewhere?”

“
No, fuck
you
, man. You come around here asking my friends about my friends and you acting all like some kinda cop. Maybe you
are
some kinda cop.”

Bear let the cop slight pass.
“Your friend? Did I hear you say, your friend?”

Watson rolled his eyes and looked around the parking lot.
This was going to get ugly.

“C’mon, Rivas, Mr.
Badguy of the underworld, tell me about your friend.” Bear stepped closer to Rivas. Rivas stepped back.

“
Johnny here is my friend. I’m just sayin’, you asking a lot of questions. Any friend of Johnny’s, you know, is a friend of mine.”

“No,
shitbag, you said,
your
friend. I heard you. Now you’re saying he’s a friend of Watson’s, too.”

Watson cut in, “I don’t think that’s
quite what he was saying, Bear.”

Bear held up a palm to Watson’s face to quiet him. “Rivas, you know who this fucker is, you got about five seconds to tell me.”

“Or what?” Rivas sounded like he was back at the dinner table taunting his siblings again.

Bear said, “My watch runs fast.”

“Your what?” said Rivas.

As quick as he could, Bear counted down, “
Fi-fo-tree-two …” and punched Rivas hard in the cheek, right below the left eye. Rivas stumbled back, but didn’t go down. Bear stepped forward and hit him again, on the chin this time. Rivas flew back and landed flat on the gravel. He lay there, arms and legs splayed out wide, like he was making dirt-angels.

Doctor Watson hadn’t moved; he looked horrified. “Bear, Bear, Bear. There’s no need for that. Shit, c’mon,
Bear. We’ve all had a few, let’s go back inside and talk about this.”

“Fuck that,” said Bear. “
I been listening to your bullshit for hours now. I want you to tell me what you know about this Terry cocksucker, or I’m gonna kick the shit out of both of you. Right here, right now.” To show Watson that he was serious, he wound up and kicked Rivas hard in the balls. Rivas moaned and curled up into the fetal position.

“Bear, please, there’s no need for that.”

“Gimme your phone.”

“What?”

“You heard me, gimme your phone, Watson.”

“My phone?
What for?”

Bear didn’t
hesitate. He reached out and grabbed Watson’s shirt collar and pulled the man toward him. He twisted his hand in the material to tighten his grip, and then felt inside Watson’s jacket pockets for a cell phone. When he’d found it, he pushed Watson back hard enough to make him fall on his ass. He crashed backward as his cane flew into the darkness to his left.

“Thank you. You’re so fucking helpful,” said Bear, slightly out of breath. Bear turned on the phone and found Watson’s contacts
, scrolled down to the T’s. There it was—415-626-47—
the same number
. “You shitbag, I ought to fuck you up just for giving me the goddamn runaround.”

Watson was getting up off the ground, dusting himself off. “Oh, that Terry, I thought you said, Terrence. This gentleman I know by Terry.”

“He’s a lawyer?”

“I believe so. At least he used to be a lawyer. I think he might be in real estate now.”

“Real estate, huh? Let me ask you this, you know where he lives?”

“Bear, you know, some of these people. They’ve got t
heir fingers in so many pies.”

“I’m
gonna ask you once more, Doctor. If you don’t tell me,
you’re
going to need a doctor—a real doctor. You get me, bright boy?”

“Shit.
” Watson looked at the gravel at his feet. He glanced around for his cane. He seemed to be weighing his options. He seemed utterly deflated; he dropped his pompous tone. He voice sounded dry and quiet. “He has a house up by Stinson Beach. A huge place, it’s up in the hills though, past Stinson a ways.”

“Where exactly?
”

“I don’t know exactly. I’ve only been there once and I was fucked up, okay?
Just one or two roads past the town. You take a right; turn up McKenzie or McKenna, something like that. It’s up a few miles of turns. You can’t miss it, the place is huge. Faces the ocean. The entire front is glass, plate glass, looks like a giant mirror.”

Bear stepped again toward Watson.

“Bear, please, I’m serious. That’s all I know. That’s all I got.”

Bear scowled, “If you’re
bullshittin’ me, Watson, I swear, I’m coming back and I’m gonna sink that piece-of-shit boat you live in, in the middle of the night, when you’re dead asleep.”