The Weight (31 page)

“You know what? I’ve been thinking. About what I told you before. You know, about how I couldn’t get Albie to ever use all this, but he sure liked watching
me
doing it?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I liked it myself.”

“Working out?”

“No. I
hate
that. But being watched, that I liked. I know you think I stayed with Albie because of all the money. And I’m not going to say it didn’t matter. At first, I mean. But I don’t want you thinking Albie watching me work out was like some slobbery old pig watching me hump a pole.

“I got something from Albie that I never got from anyone. He … appreciated me. He was always telling me I was beautiful. To Albie, I was still a young girl, like when we first met.

“And not just that. It was always, ‘Read this, Rena.’ Or ‘Come and watch the news with me.’ We’d … talk about things. I got … I guess you could say I got an education. Not like college. I could have gone if I wanted, but I learned more from Albie. Being around him.”

“Solly said he was a real smart man.”

“Smart, that’s nothing. Albie was
deep
. He’d say something; I’d say, ‘Albie, I don’t understand.’ And you know what he’d say? ‘So go and
think
about it, Rena.’ And sometimes—a
lot
of times, in fact—I’d end up figuring it out. Then I’d go ask Albie if that was it … if I really understood it or not. And when I got it right, he was so … I don’t know … 
proud
of me. I can’t even explain …”

She started crying then. Moaning like she lost something she could never get back. If she was faking, she fooled me.

I went over and sat next to her on the padded bench-press board. She turned into my chest. I just held her there until she stopped crying. I knew it was real, because she stopped little by little, not like she hit some
ON/OFF
switch.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just stayed there.

“You know what else?” she said, after she got her breath. “Never once in his whole life did Albie raise his hand to me.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “An old guy like him, I could probably break him in half if he ever tried.”

Fuck me, that
was
what I’d been thinking.

“You didn’t know him. Albie was a
hard
man. People would come here to talk to him. Some of those people, you’d get scared just
looking
at them.

“I don’t mean they were … big or anything. You can see guys
like that in any club. You know, bouncers—just big guys with muscles. These men I’m talking about, they were like off a different planet. Their eyes. The way they moved. It felt like, if you touched them, you’d get freezer burn.

“In a way, they all looked alike. I can’t explain it, but they really did. Very … controlled, I guess you’d say. But mostly it was the cold. You know how people get in bars? All mouthy, ‘I can kick your ass’ stuff. These men, you could see they’d never say anything like that. They wouldn’t have to—they had those life-taker eyes.”

“I’ve seen that.”

“Wilson … that’s not your name, right?”

“Right.”

“You trust me enough to—?”

“Sugar. That’s what people call me.”

“Okay. Sugar, no disrespect, but I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”

“I
have
seen those eyes, Rena. The same ones you’re talking about.”

“In prison, right?”

I just nodded.

“Tell me about them.”

“Them?”

“The people who had those eyes. They weren’t all the same, were they?”

“I don’t know.”

“You know what people are in for, don’t you?”

“I guess so. Most of the time, anyway.”

“So you don’t mean murderers, necessarily?”

“For those eyes? No. There’s people you know you can’t fuck with. Just by looking at them.”

“Guys like you?”

“No. I mean … ah, you can’t tell by this,” I said, flexing the arm I had around her. “It’s not size. Or even strength. It’s that … you said it yourself, a coldness, like. You know, someone like that, he
will
kill you, no matter what it costs him. That’s what I mean.”

“I understand. But that’s not what Albie’s friends were like. The
men you’re talking about, they’d kill you only if you did something to them, right? The ones who kill for fun, for the thrill or whatever, they
didn’t
have those eyes?”

“No,” I said, thinking about this psycho locked in Ad-Seg the same time I was there. I don’t remember his name, but he was always shouting out the names of the girls he’d killed, saying this one was better than that one, because it took her longer to die. I passed right by him one time on the way back from the shower. His eyes were like a foaming mouth on a dog.

“Albie’s friends, you could see it. And not just in their eyes. Everything about them. They’d kill you if they were … I don’t know, if they were
supposed
to. And it wouldn’t mean anything to them. They wouldn’t get a kick out of it, and it wouldn’t make them upset, either. They’d just do it.”

“They were all like that? Albie’s friends, I mean.”

“Every single one. Albie was very polite about it, but I always knew they were going to speak Jewish—Yiddish or Hebrew, I mean—and I wouldn’t understand a word. Maybe that’s why they didn’t care if I was around. Or not.”

“Were you scared of them?”

“No. No, I never was.”

“That
is
different from the guys I was talking about.”

“So you understand? What I said about Albie never hitting me?”

“Yeah. I do—now.”

“You sure? Because I’ll tell you something: I don’t care if you think I’m some minor-league Anna Nicole. But you can
never
think Albie was some old fool.”

“I wouldn’t ever think that. Solly said—”

“Well, now
I’m
saying. And we never got married, anyway.”

Later, when I was alone,
never got married
kept running through my head. Solly said he had Albie’s will, but he never said who was supposed to get what.

If Albie took care of Rena with his will, she wouldn’t see a
penny unless Solly showed the will in court or whatever they have to do.

Rena, she had to know that. So why didn’t Solly just put it on the line? Just
buy
that little book?

It had to mean Rena didn’t even know there was a little book, the twin to the one Solly had. Because, if I just told her there was money in it for her, why would she care if I tore up the whole house looking for it?

It was a real mess to start with. And now I had to think about those friends of Albie’s showing up, too.

I don’t do good like this. If you tell me what my job is, I’ll do it. And if I get caught doing it, I’ll never tell on you. But I’m not one of those guys who can just work things out as they go along.

Maybe I couldn’t find this Jessop, but I found a place to buy a prepaid cell easy enough—I didn’t want to use any of the ones in that suite.

“I’m still down here,” I said.

“You called to tell me this?”

“I called to ask you about that … paper you have. The one that says where all your friend’s stuff is supposed to go.”

“Why?”

“ ’Cause if there’s enough of that stuff going to the person I’m staying with, and I could
say
that, then maybe I could get permission to look for it. You know, even if I had to bust through drywall or something.”

“Meaning, nobody there can tell you where what I want is, because they don’t know themselves? Or are you getting held up?”

“I can’t tell. Not for sure.”

“So?”

“So, if nobody
does
know, then I got to smash up stuff. And I can’t do that unless they
let
me do it.”

“I get it. And I got a trump card, too, it comes to that. But you try and find out first, understand?”

After Solly hung up on me, I used that bat—the aluminum one—in the trunk of the Lincoln to splatter the cell phone.

Then I drove back to where she lived.

The Thunderbird was in its slot.

It was late. I figured I’d try the next morning.

I was taking off my clothes when she walked in. Wearing a bathrobe, with a towel around her hair.

“I thought I heard something.”

“The garage door. When it opens, you hear that?”

“I … guess I do. I was never inside by myself at night when it did before. So maybe that was it.”

“I’m glad you’re up. ’Cause I want to ask you something. And it’s real important.”

She sat down on the bed. I zipped my pants back up and made sure I stayed as far away from her as I could.

“Albie’s books?”

“Yes?”

“Remember you telling me about them?”

“Yes, I remember,” she said, like her voice was a wall between us, and she had to use all her strength to keep holding it up.

“What you said was, you knew where they were but you never even looked at them, right?”

“Yes.”

She was like a big talking doll. A doll that could only say one word. I knew she’d just say it again and again if I kept asking those same kind of questions. I was stuck. So I just shut up.

A little time went past. She never moved. Then she said, “I told you, it was a matter of trust. Didn’t I do that?”

“Yeah,” I said. But even as it came out of my mouth, I realized I was going to end up sounding just like her. Two parrots, who only knew one word between them. I had to take some kind of shot. “Did you know Albie left a will?” I asked her.

“No.” Just like that. Maybe she didn’t even want to think about it. Maybe Albie had family somewhere. Maybe she didn’t know
that; maybe she was afraid to find out. Everything out of this broad’s mouth was a “maybe.”

“Well, he did,” I told her.

“Where did he leave—? Wait. I get it. Solly,
he’s
got it, right?”

“Yes. I called him earlier tonight. I wanted to make double-sure before I said anything to you.”

“So you’re saying … you want to trade?”

That’s when I knew she was lying about Albie’s books. His “ledger,” like she told me. Telling me she never opened them. She’d opened them, all right. And she couldn’t find one thing in there that would pay her a dime.

I just looked at her, waiting.

“How do I know you’re not just saying this?”

“If I can prove that, prove I’m not making it up about a will, you’ll show me Albie’s books?”

“If you can
prove
it? There’s only one way you could do that, Wilson.”

That’s when I got my idea. I thought about it for a minute. She didn’t move. Then I said, “I need to go out again. I need to make a call.”

“Just stay right where you are,” she said. Then she got off the bed and walked out.