George Pelecanos - The Turnaround

“You better have someone look at that,” said Trombone.

“Yeah, all right.”

Baker dressed in black slacks, a lavender shirt, and the tooled leather shoes that looked like gators. He wore his deep purple sport jacket with the white stitching on the lapels. He was not shook up. Instead, he felt almost jovial as he prepared to leave the house. The visit from Ray Monroe had only confirmed what he knew. He was like one of those strong animals, walking proud in plain sight, a hunter who had no need to hide his intent. Because who was going to stop him? No one, it seemed, had the will.

Charles Baker took Delafield east on foot. He’d catch the 70 on Georgia Avenue, go on over to Cody’s apartment. The boy was out delivering his weed, but he’d be back. There Baker would compose another letter, this one to Pappas, with none of the niceties that his letter to Whitten had contained. Cody could help him with the spelling and grammar. He wasn’t as smart as James Monroe, but he would have to do.

Baker hummed a tune as he walked down the block, confidence in his step, his knobby wrists protruding from the too-short sleeves of his sport jacket, his hands swinging free.

Alex Pappas had his head down, counting out ones below the counter, not with any real purpose but because he liked the feel of paper money moving between his fingers and thumb. As he worked, he turned the bills around so that all the heads of George Washington were facing the same way. For his father, it had been a meaningless fetish and it had become his as well.

He could tell by the dying noise in the shop that the lunch rush was done. He knew this also by the touch of the sun that had just begun to come through the plate glass window. He didn’t need to look at the Coca-Cola clock on the wall to find the time.

After the ones, he counted the fives, tens, and twenties, and replaced them in their respective beds. He took note of the sole fifty-dollar bill, which he had slipped beneath the change drawer. By figuring the average percentage of cash to credit card sales, he could calculate the take of the day. He had spent his adult life working this register and had become adept at retail math.

Alex closed the register drawer and walked along the inner counter, his feet treading the mats. He said good-bye to Juana and Blanca, who were laughing at something one of them had said in Spanish, and came up on John and Darlene, who were discussing next week’s menu. All seemed to be in good spirits. It was Friday.

“Grab your jacket,” said Alex to John. “Let’s go outside for a few minutes.” To Darlene he said, “Where’s Rafael?”

“Lover Boy’s out on a delivery.”

“I saw the ticket. It was for Twenty-second and L, so he should have been back by now. Give him a call on his cell and tell him to quit socializing. The dishes and silver are backing up.”

“Got it,” said Darlene. “We’ll see you on Monday, right?”

“I’m opening,” said Alex. “Same as always.”

Alex and John got their jackets off a tree by the dishwashing station, went through a break in the counter, and exited through the front door. Outside, John followed his father to the ledge decoratively bookended by shrubs. Alex had a seat on the ledge and looked at the shiny bits of quartz embedded in the concrete.

“I used to jump over this thing all day long when I was a kid,” said Alex.

“So did we,” said John. “Me and Gus. We’d be out here playing while you were working inside.”

Alex could see them, John, eleven or so, and Gus, around six, John standing on the deep side of the ledge, ready to upright his younger brother in case he caught the toe of his sneaker on the concrete and tripped.

“I remember,” said Alex. He rubbed at his shoulder unconsciously as he spoke.

“Dad, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“All that running you did last night.” John chuckled. “With your shirt off.”

“I looked good, didn’t I?”

“Seriously, Pop. Your father died of a heart condition. You need to take care of yourself.”

“Ahh.” Alex waved his hand dismissively. “My father smoked and had a poor diet. I stay in shape.”

“I know it.”

“But I’m not gonna be around forever. We do need to talk. About the future, I mean. I want to get things in order with you, in case I happen to kick.”

“Dad, don’t be so Greek.”

“I’m just sayin. I want you to know my intentions.”

“Okay.”

“You see that front window there?”

“Yeah?”

“If you count the early days when I came to work for my father, I’ve been looking through that window, at this street, for forty years. It’s like I’ve been watching the same movie over and over again. It’s time for me to look at something else.”

“You’re selling the business?”

“ No. But we’re gonna try something new, starting next week. It’s not doing either of us any good, the two of us working together. You’re not gonna learn much more with me around, and the way you’re catching on, I’m becoming as useless as tits on a mule.”

“I don’t get it.”

“A mule is sterile. It can’t have little mules, so its teats are there for no purpose. There’s no offspring to suck on’em.”

“I’m asking you, what are you trying to say?”

“Why don’t we do this? Starting Monday, I’m gonna open the shop the way I always do. I like that time of day, and you’re a young man who still needs a social life. I remember when I was young, working down here, and I had to get up at five in the a.m. It made an impact on my love life because I couldn’t have any late nights out.” Alex casually pointed to his bad eye. “Plus, I had this.”

“None of that stopped you from hooking up with Mom.”

“That was just one of those chemical things.” Alex grinned lasciviously. “The first time she came into the magazi, she couldn’t take her eyes off me.”

“Stop bragging.”

“Anyway, like I said, I’ll open, and you can plan on coming in around eight, to work breakfast. I’ll stick around for the first hour of lunch and shove off by one o’clock. Little by little, I’ll pull back on my hours and grow yours. We’ll play it by ear, but I don’t think it’ll be too long before you’re able to run the whole thing by yourself.”

“Dad, I…” John looked down at his feet.

“You’re speechless, for once.”

“I can’t say I don’t want this. I do want it. But I didn’t expect you to hand it to me. I never felt like I was entitled to it.”

“You’ll do a fine job. I have no doubt. But you have to understand the magnitude of this commitment. We don’t own the real estate. Our equity is the business itself. Every day you’re starting all over again. Every day you’ve got to turn that key. The help gets sick, but you can’t. They take vacations, but you can’t. If you lock the front door and go on vacation -”

“- ‘the customers are gonna try someplace new.’ ”

“Make fun if you want.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m telling you, you’ve got challenges up ahead. The chains, you know about. You said yourself you can’t go head-to-head with them. The big unknown is the new landlord and the property management company. They’re tryin to raise the rent. Let Mr. Mallios negotiate with those malakas. Dimitri will put them on their knees.”

John turned his head. Rafael was coming down N Street, walking and talking with a woman five to ten years his senior. She was a professional, dressed in a business suit, and seemed to be enjoying his company.

“Kid’s girl crazy,” said Alex, trying for cynical but conveying admiration.

Rafael said good-bye to the woman, broke away from her, and headed for the store.