The Take (13 page)

Jimbo’s
Tavern stood on a colorless corner in a neighborhood where people lived because
they had to. Cats darted from yard to yard, occasionally scooting under houses,
always hungry, always on the prowl for rats. They were never disappointed.

A drunk
stumbled out the door of Jimbo’s, almost knocking over the two men who were
coming in. He was so loaded, he never acknowledged them. Because he stank, they
reeled backward in disgust.

But
once they straightened up, they entered with purpose. These two didn’t fit in
here, with their silk shirts and ties and their long dark topcoats. This was
the land of the lost, of little money, and of unshaven men endlessly searching
for whiskey and willing women, never finding enough of either.

The
bartender, barely distinguishable from the few customers, moved uneasily. These
strangers were too fancy-looking; they were here because something was wrong.
On top of everything else, they were Mexicans.

“What
can I do for you fellas?” he asked.

The
shorter one looked over at the pool table in the corner. “Did Tony Chávez ever
play pool in here?”

With a
slow move, the bartender rubbed the loose, stubbly skin around his chin.

“Tony?
Yeah, Tony. I remember him. Young fella, good- looking.” The two strangers
nodded. “Yeah, he useta come in here. But it was a long time ago. Lessee, maybe
a year or more.”

“He
like to shoot pool a lot?”

”Well,
I guess he — say, who are you fellas, anyway?”

Rafael
Vega reached across the bar — a long reach for
him — and grabbed the bartender’s
filthy shirt. His voice was mean and frosty. “We’re the guys who gonna break
your fucking face unless you tell us what we wanna know. Now, did he like to
shoot pool?”

The
bartender’s chest trembled under Vega’s iron grip.

“Yeah.
Y-yeah. Tony was pretty good, all right. He liked playing pool. But I swear, I
swear I ain’t seen him in over a year.”

Vega’s
quick eyes scanned the joint for any sign of interference. A couple of men at
the far end of the bar silently slurped their draft beers. In the back booth, a
fortyish drunk made wild gestures to the slovenly older woman across from him.
Or maybe she was younger. In any case, she ignored him, fixing a vacant stare
into the bottom of her beer glass.

“Where’d
he go?” Vega asked.

“Well,
I-I c-can’t say for sure, but I heard he got a job workin’ for some rich Mess’can
fella and started making a little money.” Vega relaxed his hold on the shirt
collar, as the bartender breathed a little easier. “Y’know, when fellas around
here start makin’ some money, they generally don’t come around anymore. That’s
how it was with Tony. He just quit comin’ around.”

“Where’d
he go to shoot pool?”

“Well,
now, lessee … I, uh …I think … yeah, thassit. I think I heard he was hanging
around a place over on Navigation.”

“What
place?” Vega’s bad intentions were showing.

The
bartender sank deep into thought, rubbing his chin again.

“Lessee,
um … what was that place? Shoot, it was my cousin who told me he saw Tony over
there. Was it T something? Wait, I think it was something like T or — yeah,
thassit. T & T’s. Over on Navigation.”

A
t the very
moment the Mexicans were leaving Jimbo’s, Eddie Ryan was watching Linda walk
out of her apartment. She was off to run a few errands, including the purchase
of a fake mustache at the local greasepaint shop. Following their little chat,
he felt a lot better about things.

He had
become more and more convinced that going through life as Lowell Garner, at
least for the time being, didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Especially since
he had the money … and Felina.

Felina.

He
looked in the bedroom. Here it was, going on two in the afternoon, and she was
still off in dreamland. He tiptoed in, only to stand over the bed as she slept.

There,
in the heavily draped room, he felt as though he were watching her from a
hiding place. Through light, measured breathing, she radiated that certain
delicate innocence he’d always imagined about her. Even like this, with her
hair messed up and makeup gone, she was enchanting. All those times he’d seen
her with Val — when she was his, his property — he had always
wished for this moment. This moment right now, when he could look over her
slumbering figure and say, this is mine.

All
mine.

He just
knew it was true. She had gone to the mat for him, risking her life just for
him. He couldn’t believe a woman like this would do something like that. It
coated him with this, this sweet sensation of … of … love?

Was it
love? Is this what it felt like? Could this be it?

Could
this bewitching young beauty actually have found the love inside him? The love
buried in his deepest recesses? The love he always suspected was there?

He
hesitated because he wanted to do so many things right then. He wanted to bend
down and kiss her cheek ever so lightly. This feeling of affection swarmed over
him, warming him all over. A smile made its way onto his angular face, and he
knew he wanted to protect her forever from all the snares and treachery that
awaited them in the world outside the door. Then, he would kiss her, and she
would slowly lift her lids to reveal those alluring black eyes, still shrouded
in sleep. After a petite stretch, she would breathe his name with a smile, and
a wonderful day, his second full one as a millionaire, would begin.

But if
he did all that, he would spoil this picture. Because he also wanted to isolate
this fabulous moment, like a freeze-frame, and yes, freeze it, keep it just
like this, for always. To press it between the pages of a scrapbook, tucked
away somewhere in a secret drawer where no one would ever find it. Where he
could pull it out some day in the future and gaze at it, bathing himself in the
warmth that filled him right now. That way, he could retain this delectable
feeling for all time, this feeling of having it all, as well as knowing that,
for right now, for this one single solitary second, nobody could take it away.

But if
he just stood there looking at her, her luscious curves visible beneath the
bedcovers, he would be denying the quavering that welled up within him at this
very moment. The fearfully intoxicating desire that always defied reason, that
made him peel off his shirt and fumble with his belt
buckle the way he did now.

And
when those familiar flames were fed, as they were now, he could only surrender.
He could only jerk his pants down as the fire began to envelop him. And when he
startled her by jumping into bed, he could only take her, take her hard and
rough, yielding to his own exciting compulsions.

T
he mustache fit
perfectly. Thick and wide, it covered the entire area above his upper lip. And
it gave Eddie a passing resemblance to the late Lowell Garner. His first look
in the mirror made him smile.

“Goddamn,
if I’d’a known I looked this good, I’d’a grown one of these a long time ago.”
He touched it with the fingertips of both hands, stroking it downward toward
his mouth.

“Ooh, I
like it,” said Felina. “It makes you look like...like you mean business.” He
recalled the bedroom business they had just completed. He’d give her more of
that later.

“Damned
if you don’t kinda favor him, little brother,” Linda said with admiration. “Eyes
are different, though.”

“Makes
me look a little older, doesn’t it, Sis? Whaddya think?”

“Maybe
a little,” she replied. “But that’s okay. You always had a babyish look about
you, anyway. This makes you look … better.”

“Yeah,”
Felina added. “You look really different.”

He
continued preening in the mirror for a minute more, then Linda said, “It’s
almost time for the news.”

She
went over and turned on the TV.
Soon,
a well-coiffed anchor appeared on the screen behind fancy graphics, announcing
the first look at the news.

The
graphics faded, the music died, as the anchor intoned, “The city’s murder rate
continues to climb as a tourist was stabbed to death last night in the French
Quarter.” They sat there holding their breaths as he solemnly continued: “Edward
Ryan, thirty-two, of Houston, was found late last night lying in a pool of
blood in the one thousand block of St Louis Street. He had been stabbed once in
the stomach, apparently as he was getting out of his car. According to police,
there were no witnesses, but a search of the victim’s clothing revealed robbery
as the likely motive. Time of death is estimated to be around two a.m.

“Ryan’s
occupation is not known, nor have any next of kin been located. The mayor today
moved quickly to assure everyone that tourists are safe on our streets, despite
this isolated incident. However, the appalling number of street crimes
continues to soar. A new task force on crime is expected …”

Linda
clicked it off. Audible sighs filled the room. Both women hugged Eddie,
squeezing the breath out of him.

“Awri-i-ight!
We did it,” he cried.

“Now
let’s just hope your friends in Houston get wind of this,” Linda said.

Felina
was exhilarated. “Oh Eddie, I’m so happy for you. This clears the way for us.
Now we can get out of here.”

“Yeah,
and it’s all because of you, darlin’.” He lovingly stroked her hair as he
smiled. “That was great thinking right there on the spot.” He turned to Linda. “Now
Sis, you got to admit, she done good.”

His
eyes bore in on his sister. “Come on, come on,” he said through a wide grin. “You
c’n admit it.”

Linda’s
head lay on his chest. Reluctantly, she nodded.

“If it’s
gonna keep those scumbags away from you, then … well, then I guess it was good
thinking. This is probably the best thing that could’ve happened, if it means
you’re staying alive.”

“Alive
is right,” he said. “Speaking of which, I think I’m gonna go out right now. I
need some clothes. I only brought a couple of things with me.” He eyed Felina. “You
too, darlin’. C’mon. We could both use some new things.”

She sat
up straight. “Eddie, shouldn’t we be leaving? I mean, now is our chance and —”

He
patted her reassuringly. “We will, darlin’, we will. We gotta get a car first,
you know. The cops took the Ford. It’s too late in the day right now, but first
thing tomorrow, we’ll get one and then we blow this town, okay?” She made a
gesture, kind of like a shrug, and he added, “Meanwhile, let’s go get those
clothes. C’mon.”

She
went to get her jacket. It was too thin for this rapidly cooling day, but it
was the only one she had brought with her. Eddie, meanwhile, went into the
bedroom and retrieved his .38 from the suitcase.

“Hold
it, hold it,” said Linda. “Where the hell you think you’re going with that
thing?”

He
slipped it in his waistband under his shirt. “I gotta have protection, I mean,
we’re running this game okay right now, but it won’t mean shit if Val Borden
comes walking down the street. He’ll recognize me a mile away, even with this
mustache.”

She
snatched the gun away from him. “And what if he does? You gonna plug him right
in the middle of Canal Street? Right in broad daylight? Use your damn head,
little brother. You can’t go walking around the French Quarter carrying this.
You’re living on Lowell’s ID as it is, and the last thing you want is for the
cops to find this.”

She put
the rod in a kitchen drawer, clattering around with spoons and things.

“You’re
just going out to buy clothes,” she said. “So do it. Act like a couple of
tourists who need some extra things. It won’t be hard to blend in around here.
Just walk down Burgundy a few blocks. It’s not a real busy street, so you
shouldn’t run into too many people. Turn left on Canal, and in a block or two
there’ll be some stores. Buy your clothes and come right back here using the
same route.”

“Burgundy
to Canal,” he repeated. “Turn left.”

“Right.
And Eddie —” She took his hand. “For Chrissakes, be careful.”

He
nodded as Felina said, “Don’t worry. I’ll see that he doesn’t get careless.”

I’ll
bet you will, thought Linda.

Eddie
went to the kitchen and peeled off a thousand dollars, then — sure, why
not — another five hundred for good measure.

Shit,
if I want a thousand bucks, or ten thousand, or even a hundred thousand, there
it is! All I gotta do is go get it outa the bag.

Felina
eagerly took his arm, and they went out the door and through the courtyard.
From the window, Linda watched as they left the building, smiling and joking.

Beyond
the apartment buildings across the street, she eyed the tip of the downtown
skyline peering over their rooftops, a reminder of the big world Eddie was
about to enter. Her thoughts turned to his uncertain future, and the danger
that would certainly hover around him for the rest of his life, however long
that was.