Elmore Leonard - Pagan Babies

"Five gees a week," Vito said, "you can write off. Also during the ten weeks you don't have to pay the commission on the ladies. Tony's giving you a break."

Randy said, "I'd love to know what she's giving him."

Debbie spoke up. "What if I don't want to perform?"

Vito looked over at her sitting in the chair under Soupy Sales. He said, "You're smart you'll keep your mouth shut till you have something funny to say," and turned to Randy again. "Where's the Mutt?"

"I haven't seen him. He must've quit."

"They find your car?"

"Not yet."

"I think he did Vincent and took off in your Cadillac. What do you think?"

"I've learned not to speculate about him," Randy said. "Where the Mutt's concerned, anything is possible."

The Mutt had called Randy from Ohio saying, "You know who this is? It's me. I don't want to say too much over the phone. I did the one but not the other, since he never got your money. And I didn't come by to collect you know what as I decided to keep the car instead."

"But it's worth three times what I owe you," Randy said.

"That's okay, you have in-surance, don't you? What I need is the tide, so when I go to sell it I can. Send it to the amusement park at Cedar Point, where I'll be working for a while. Man, they got some rides here. They got the Raptor, the Mantis, the Mean Streak. They got the Iron Dragon, the Demon Drop…"

When Debbie called Tony, and told him, sniffling, what happened, she said, "I had it in my hand, the chance of a lifetime, and he ripped me off a priest."

"I think what you mean to say," Tony said, "you tried to fuck him over; only the mick priest knows you better than you know him and he taught you a lesson. You weren't paying attention."

"Aren't you gonna do anything?"

"Like what, send one of my guys to Africa? It's your money, kid, not mine."

"Tony, he's not in Africa. Just because you bought him a ticket…

That's the last place he'd go. I wouldn't be surprised if I got a call from like Paris or the South of France, a familiar voice on the phone-"

"Don't tell me," Tony said, "you talked him into leaving the Church, or he wasn't a priest to begin with."

She didn't say anything.

"I don't want to hear that, you understand? I don't want you telling me anything like that."

Debbie said in a quiet, contrite voice she kept handy, "I was just, you know, talking. I held out on him, he found the check and I got what I deserved." She made herself say, "At least he'll use it for the orphans."

"So you were slandering him 'cause you're mad, you hate to lose.

Is that it?"

"I'm sorry, I really am."

"You want to chase after him? Go to Africa and come down with some fuckin disease you never heard of?"

I'll get over it."

"Maybe it would help," Tony said, "you had a ten-week engagement at, say, five grand a week. Get some of it back."

"I don't have the name to demand anywhere near that much."

"I do," Tony said.

She stopped sniffling. "You could make that happen?"

"Would I say it if I couldn't?"

She didn't ask if there was a catch.

The piano player from the trio said into his mike, "And now, to tickle your funnybone and your fancy"-giving it a little more punch"here's that rising star of cool comedy, Detroit's own Debbie Dewey!"

She came out from the back hall and stepped up on the bandstand in her oversized prison dress and shitkickers. She looked out at white tablecloths and patrons who could afford Randy's prices, a polite audience, patient.

Okay, go.

"I'd like a show of hands, please. How many of you have ever done time? I don't mean a night in jail on a DUI, I'm talking about serious prison time." Debbie put her hand flat above her eyes as she looked over the room. "No one here has been caught out at Metro with dope? Fly home from some groovy spot, you see that little dog, Snoopy, checking out your bags and you hope to God the rink dog doesn't rat you out?"

They liked it, wanting her to know they were hip.

"I guess I'm the only one in the room who's been down. I did most of three years for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon."

Debbie looked over at Randy standing at the bar and offered the next line to him.

"I was visiting my mom in Florida and happened to run into my former boyfriend.., with a Ford Escort. Not what you think of as a deadly weapon, but it did the job, put him in traction for a few months."

She turned to the audience again, the white tablecloths and the faces, some smiling.

"When I tell you what a snake this guy was, you'll understand why I wished I was driving an eighteen-wheeler loaded with scrap metal.

Listen, ladies? If a guy who has a pet bat, and sometimes poses as a priest, ever asks you for a date? Tell him you're busy. The first thing he said to me, at a fancy wedding reception I found out later he wasn't invited to…"

Chantelle watched through the screen door: Laurent the RPA officer, beret under his arm, and Terry, his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts, in the yard talking, moving from one foot to the other, looking at the empty church and talking, looking in the distance to the tea plantation, the green slope dark at this hour of the day, time for Mr. Walker but still talking, Terry not calling to the house to bring it out, please, for our guest. They would be speaking as gentlemen as each wondered what the other was doing here. It was like watching a film without sound, but having an idea what they were saying, each telling the other it was good to see him again. No, nothing new has happened. Yes, the ones from the church have been buried… She waited until Laurent shook Terry's hand again, put on his beret, walked to his Land Cruiser, waved and drove away. Now she pushed the screen door open with her foot and came outside with the tray of glasses and the bowl of ice, the bottle of Johnnie Walker pressed beneath the stump of her arm. She believed it was good for the muscle to be used this way, squeezing the bottle, and believed she would be using it again and again and again, the woman knowing things the man didn't seem to know.

"Why didn't you bring it out while he was here?"

"Why didn't you tell me to?"

She placed the tray and then the bottle on the warped table and put ice in the glasses.

"I thought we were celebrating, having the black."

"One day I dropped it on the floor and it broke."

"It doesn't matter. Did you have any of the bourbon?"

"Yes, I like the taste of it."

"Has Laurent been around much?"

She handed him his Scotch full of ice. "You know how long you been gone? Eleven and a half days. Tell me what you mean by 'much.'"

"Has he?"

"He likes me. He comes to see am I all right, being alone here. He has his wife from Kampala living with him now."

"You go from a priest to a married man-"

She said, "Let me think. Do I go to them, or they come to me?

Don't concern yourself with Laurent." She turned with her drink and sat down next to him in this quiet time before the insects began making their noise, looking to attract insects like them to have sex with and make millions of more insects. "You say you came back to take care of children. But you not a priest anymore."

"I told you, I never was."

"What are you now, a Seven Day Adventist? They take care of children. Are you going to hear Confession? It was something you like to do."

I'll talk to people, try to help them. Even do it like Confession if they want."

"Yes, and you give penance?" "Can't do that anymore."

"Did you tell Laurent?"

"I will the next time, when he realizes I'm here and not visiting or happened to be passing by-the reason he told me he stopped. But if you happen to be passing by, where are you going? The road ends here. He asked if I knew I was coming back."