Wrong Ways Down (15 page)

“Ain’t … ain’t can think on any. Oh! Smelled, he done. He smell.”

Terrible glanced at Berta. That were no help at all. Plenty in Downside ain’t spent too much time showering. “Like him weren’t clean, meaning?”

“Naw. Like him were too clean. Like soap way too strong. Too clean. Making my nose itch, thinking, but ain’t really had me time to give it much notice, dig, causen I weren’t in the car much long … ”

She started crying then, really crying hard, and Terrible stood up. Time to go, he figured. Leave the dames handle it with themselves; he were an intrusion. “Ain’t yon fault,” he said again. “True thing, Essie.” 

And it weren’t her fault. It was his. His causen he ain’t caught the dude already, his causen obviously the plan he set up to keep the whores safe ain’t worked. Well, he guessed that one weren’t all on him, since it were Bump and Berta’s plan, too, but still. It had failed, and he ain’t found the dude yet, so this was his fault.

He checked his watch. Just past four. Streets was still busy, too. Time to go hunt some people down, clear his head a little so maybe,
maybe
, he could actually think instead of just wanting to kill somebody. He weren’t certain it’d work, but it was worth a try.

Bump ain’t got up til after three, on the usual, which were fine with Terrible causen he were tired heself. After breaking Lee Poke’s arm and giving a couple cutpurses a hard lesson on how the Market weren’t the place for them to be working, he’d gone home and slept. Not a lot; he’d calmed down some, but not enough, especially when Amy’s face came into he head again and he remembered how that were over, and over causen he’d treated her wrong.

But he’d slept, anyroad. And he’d heard from a couple of he snitches, and he’d gotten a call from one of Bump’s brain-men, so when he hit Bump’s place around five he had some knowledge to share.

Good thing, too, causen Bump were furious. His gold toe-ring flashed like a distress signal, he were pacing so fast, and he eyes and lips were narrow as Terrible had ever seen.

He’d been cleaning his guns. They sat in a deadly row on the table, cold and ready. Every once in a while Bump stretched a hand toward em, a reflex action. Like how little kids reached out to make sure them blankies were still there.

Terrible flipped open he notebook, once Bump finished cussing at him. He ain’t paid much attention to the cussing. Weren’t him Bump were so mad at, he were just letting off steam. “Got some knowledge on that dude Archie, the one I tell you on. Works for a place makes bullshit magic. Place got busted last year for illegal power an shit. Got—”

“Where you getting that from?”

He weren’t gonna give an apology on that one. He weren’t owing an apology on that one. “Chess. Gave she the ask on—”

Bump sighed. “Just ain’t could fuckin stay off, yay? Be like—”

Terrible straightened his back and gave Bump that look, the one meant he better quit on it. “She ain’t knowing why. Just gave she the ask, causen be shit she got knowledge on.”

A second or two, then Bump looked down, sniffled hard, and nodded. “Yay. Yay, dig it, I do, be right asking.”

Aye, he better fucking say that. “So he working someplace does some dirty magic, dig, an got me a call today from Sleepy Dan, sayin he knows him a dame went home with Archie a couple weeks back. Said him weren’t right in him head. Said were real violent. In bed, dig.”

Bump looked doubtful, and Terrible knew why. He’d had the same thinking at first, til Sleepy Dan explained better. He added, fast, “Like hitting she an all, dig? Punching. Ain’t could get it up lessin she were cryin, Sleepy Dan say.”

“Yay, seein you fuckin meaning now.” Bump lit a smoke, kept pacing. “Thinkin be he, then? He the fuckin piece of shit gonna die?”

“Thinkin he got knowledge on it, aye. Only had Rat an Blue Bill watch the place since yesterday morning, he ain’t come in or out. Ain’t there, thinkin. Guessing him fuckin took off after I left, dig.” He hated saying that, hated admitting it. He knew he shoulda fucking given Archie the beat-down when he were there.

He pulled the papers the brain-men gave him and handed em over. “Got more here on them run that place, addresses and all. No pictures, though, still. Archie name ain’t on there. Wonderin he using a fake name, dig, only he landlord say he seen papers on Archie, be him for real.”

Bump scanned the papers. “What on Slobag? What he gave the fuckin try-on with Roley, yay, tryin poach he or whatany the fuck. An still them ghost rumors, yay, still fuckin hearing on that shit, got a few giving it me.”

Terrible shrugged. “Othersides Roley ain’t hearing on he tryin poach any. An putting out word ain’t a ghost, but ain’t can fuckin make em stop chattering theyselves, aye? Ain’t can give all of em the tell.”

“Maybe give Roley the fuckin asking for more knowledge, yay. See iffen them fuckin come to he again.”

Bump weren’t gonna like what he said next. “Were thinkin … seem awful fuckin odd to me, dig, Roley be the only one them go to. Got the wonder iffen he telling stories.”

“Wanting be fuckin important, he do, yay.” Bump sat down, looking at he hands. “Got he the fuckin thinking he a big fuckin snowflake, him do, like him oughten be getting fuckin medals or whatany like that. But him still Lacey fuckin cousin, you dig?”

Aye. He dug. Meant Bump wanted to let Roley be an asshole so’s he could keep Lacey happy. Fuck. “Ain’t fuckin trusting he. Ain’t like he, neither.”

“Vole all fuckin stand-up, yay? An Vole fuckin gives the say Roley right. Sides, got the fuckin hearing on elseways gotta worry on, yay, hearing some shit all worth thinkin on. Dig this.” Bump leaned forward. “Got knowledge Slobag got he a fuckin new man, yay, one digging fuckin knives, be all good on with em. Be what hearing I fuckin got. Thinkin maybe what fuckin happened Slick, you fuckin dig, be why he more sliced up.”

Shit. “A strong-arm man?”

“Nay, nay, ain’t like that. Just some new fuckin weasel gets all on the fuckin excited side, he getting to kill.”

“Iffen he done Slick … ” Terrible lit another smoke. “Iffen he done Slick, means Slobag had knowledge no street man there for watching Clapper Sue, aye?”

“Yay, sure fuckin be the meaning I fuckin see.”

It still bugged him. “Marky ain’t killed on the last night.”

“Last night were fuckin busy on them fuckin streets, yay? No fuckin needing to kill he, too many fuckin people all around. Ain’t none fuckin see the dude got Essie.” Bump shook his head. “Poor little dame. What you fuckin doing for she?”

Aye, he’d already been on that one. “Finding some else she can do, iffen she’s wanting. Makin the offer for Sue, too, aye?”

“Yay, all fuckin cool then.” Bump stood up, clearly ready to move on with he day. “You keep fuckin lookin in, yay? Get we more fuckin knowledge. Wanting this one fuckin solved up soon, yay? Be a new fuckin year, wanting start it up fuckin right.”

That night he were at Trickster’s, grabbing a beer and standing in the back. Ain’t especially wanted to be there; he wanted to be out finding Archie, but he’d fucking disappeared. Meant he were for certain involved, leastaways so Terrible figured, and he had people watching for Archie everywhere. 

And he wanted to figure out who on the inside were helping Archie. He ain’t been able to find any connection between him and any of Bump’s men, but there had to fucking be one, because somebody had to have given Archie the tell that Slick were away the night Sue got attacked—iffen them ain’t killed Slick. Somebody had to give Archie the knowledge on the new security steps, too, so the dude got Essie knew to steal a car, wear a disguise, find a whore not on the corner so’s nobody’d see. Aye, he guessed that could all be shit them would just do, but it still seemed to him like somebody were playing pass-on.

Could it be one of the whores? Probably not. They were so tight up with each other, them own superstitions and rituals and all. He just ain’t could see them selling each other out like that. Ain’t could even see why they would.

But if he were right, and this were all being done to make some kinda magic for the Peace Factory … he guessed the money might be a reason, aye. And much as he hated thinking it, he knew a lot of dames did a lot of shitty things to please a man. Coursen, a lot of men would do a lot of shitty things to please a dame, too. Point was, he could see it.

He’d ask Berta on it in the morning; she was busy that night, working on something with the whores, some new protection or whatany like that. He’d ask Berta real fucking carefully, causen she wouldn’t like that question. Not one bit.

He sipped his beer, lit a smoke, scanned the crowd under the red lights. It were so hot in there the room was practically foggy, made him feel like he shirts were clinging to his skin. Made him want another shower; going home sounded good, actually. He weren’t much in the mood to be out.

But he weren’t much in the mood to be alone, neither, and Sela were busy with some friends she had and he ain’t seen any in the bar interested him so no forgetting that way neither. He was failing, and his voice in his own head kept reminding him of it. Leastaways the music and noise, the crowd around him, drowned it out a little. At home it’d be just him, and he’d be loud, and trapped with himself.

Besides, he were half-hoping some else, some other cocky dumbass, would give him the try. Half-hoping he’d see somebody who had owes, or who might know something. Wouldn’t mind throwing some punches. Wouldn’t mind doing anything that might cut off the thoughts echoing and echoing in his head, reminding him how he was fucking up and not catching the dudes responsible. Iffen he were smarter he woulda got em by then, he knew it.

Chess walked in. 

E
VEN FROM THE
opposite side of the room he could see something were troubling her. Something in the way she walked, the way her head tilted down a little … he weren’t certain just what it was, he only knew it was there. He could see clouds in her eyes, he guessed were the best way of describing it. She looked tired, and down. Like she was there causen she wanted the same thing he did: people around her, noise to drown shit out.

She headed for the bar and got sheself a beer, then stood looking around. The red lights shone off her black-dyed hair, made her skin glow and the red shirt she wore look even darker. It weren’t the shirt he liked best—that one had a wide neckline, where he could see how delicate her collarbones were and remember touching em—but she always looked good in red. Well, she looked good in everything. Standing there at the bar it was like she absorbed all the lights and shone em back, like they was all aimed right on her. Made him feel like a punched eye, vibrating and sore and with he skin too thin. He looked at her under the lights and for a minute he were just lost. 

Felt like everybody in the room was watching him stare at her, too, but he couldn’t look away. Even though he wanted to. Even though it hurt, a dull ache in his chest because she was in the same room but far away. Because he couldn’t just walk up to her and touch her. 

Because she wasn’t his. 

But then she saw him. Were he the kinda dude thought that “she wants me but won’t admit it” bullshit, then the way her face lit up, the way she smiled, woulda made him convinced she’d come there looking for him. As it was … it still made him feel awful fucking good. He ain’t could even be embarrassed she’d caught him watching her, she looked so happy to see him.

She started walking toward him right away, too, twisting that slim body in tight jeans through the crowd until she stood in front of him.

Up close he could see it even better, them shadows in her eyes despite her smile. “Hey, Chess,” he said, the way he always did, tasting her name. “You right?”

“Right up,” she said, but he knew it were a lie. “You?”

He shrugged. If they weren’t where they were he’d ask some questions, maybe kind of let her know he guessed something were bothering her. But they were out in public, where it was loud. And he ain’t wanted to chance what happened last time they’d gone where it was quieter inside Trickster’s, last time they’d tried to talk for real in there.

That night he tried to forget. The night she’d put her hand on his chest and looked into his eyes and he hadn’t been able to stop himself, hadn’t been able to keep from grabbing her and kissing her. It’d been like … like his body did it without him realizing it or meaning it to. Like when he lost his temper, cepting the only one who’d ended up hurt that night was him.