Andrew Vachss - Two Trains Running

“You’re in my seat,” Dett said, mildly.

“Your seat? I don’t see your name on it, man,” the youth said. His buddies laughed on cue, a practiced bully-sound, pack-rehearsed since childhood.

Dett’s right hand slipped into his pocket, fingers coiling through a set of brass knuckles. He stepped closer, angling his left shoulder to shield his right arm from the target’s view.

The hinge of his jaw. While his mouth is open…

A flash of pink in the corner of his eye. Tussy. Standing by the register. She pantomimed smoking a cigarette, pointed at the big clock high on the wall, then held out her palm, fingers spread.

Dett stepped back. Nodded his head “yes.” He watched as she pointed behind her, nodding again to show he understood.

“Hey, man,” the youth said, mockingly. “Didn’t you have something you wanted to say?”

“No,” Dett told him, looking away.

He turned and walked out of the diner, their laughter behind him like wind in a sail.

1959 October 02 Friday 20:45

The back door to the diner opened, and Tussy stepped out into the warm, starless night. She looked to her left and to her right, then put both hands on her hips and said, “Well!”

“I’m over here, Tussy,” Dett said, separating himself from the shadows. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to think-”

“Oh!” Tussy jumped slightly, then recovered her composure. “I was just playing,” she assured him. “Having fun. I knew you had to be around someplace.”

“You’re really good at it.”

“At… what?”

“At playing. You mean, like playing a role, right? Acting. You’re terrific, the way you do it. When you told me you would be taking a break out here-in five minutes, to have a smoke-it was like you wrote me a note. It was so clear, and you never said a word.”

The waitress regarded Dett appraisingly. “I never heard that one before,” she said, smiling to take the edge off her words.

“Nobody ever noticed how good you- Ah, I get it. You mean, you never heard that line before, huh?”

“I was just teasing,” she said, quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t-” Dett began, then stopped himself as he realized that his feelings had been hurt. The knowledge stunned him, like an amputee who first experiences phantom pain in a missing limb.

“It’s a zoo in there tonight,” she said, taking a pack of Kools from her apron. “Do you have a-?”

Dett already had a wooden match flaming, cupped in his hands. He held it out to her by extending his arms, not stepping any closer.

“Thanks,” she said, leaning forward.

“You’re welcome,” Dett replied, lighting a Lucky for himself with the same flame.

“Did you just move in around here?” she asked.

“Me? No, I didn’t move in at all. I’m just in town on business.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m in real estate,” he said, suddenly disgusted with the vagueness of the lie that sprang so naturally to his lips.

“You mean, like houses? Or bigger stuff?”

“Well, it’s pretty much just land. I work for some people who buy up big parcels when they think the land will be worth a lot more someday.”

“Like if the state builds a highway through it?”

“That’s kind of what I mean,” he said. “But not through it, exactly. Next to it, that would be best. If the government wants your property, they can just take it.”

“Without paying you?” she said, horrified.

“Oh, they have to pay. But they only pay what they say it’s worth.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It’s one of the risks. The bigger risk is when you assemble a parcel and then you try and package it, so you can sell it to a developer. One little zoning change and you could end up with a worthless vacant lot instead of a shopping center.”

“Oh. So you’re on the road all the time?”

“Pretty much. But, sometimes, I get to stay in one spot for a while. It depends on what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on here,” she said, dragging on her cigarette. “Well, actually, there’s plenty that goes on here. I guess you already know about it, being a…”

“Being a… what?”

“A man. A traveling man. Locke City’s not exactly a tourist attraction, but we get a lot of men just passing through. Usually it’s just for a few hours, though.”

“This is a gamblers’ town?”

“You didn’t know? Where are you staying?”

“At the Claremont.”

“That real-estate business of yours must pay pretty well,” she said. Dett couldn’t tell if she was actually impressed, or making fun of him. Maybe some of both. “I’m surprised you could even check into a place like that without the bellhops touting you on one of the fancy joints we’ve got here.”

“Like casinos?”

“I’ve never been to a real casino, but we’ve got places here that sure look like what I imagine they’d be,” she said, her voice a parody of civic pride. “Roulette wheels, blackjack dealers, slot machines, dice, the whole works. If there’s one thing Locke City’s famous for, it’s gambling. We’ve got all kinds, everywhere you look.”

“The police…?”

“Are you some kind of detective?” she suddenly asked, stepping back.

“Me?” said Dett, honestly shocked.

“Well, you… you’re not from around here. One night, you’re dressed like a working guy, but tonight, you’re all fancy. And you were asking all those questions-”

“No, I wasn’t,” Dett protested. “I was just… I was just talking with you. I’m not very good at it.”

“Talking? You seem to do just fine with it.”

“Not that kind of talking. Talking to say what I mean.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dett took a deep breath. Let it out. Said, “The question-the only question I wanted to ask you was, would you go out with me? I mean, to a movie or… or to a club, if you want. We could-”

“Dinner,” she said, smiling.

“Dinner? I-”

“That’s what I’d really like. Have somebody wait on me for a change, see what it feels like.”

“I would be very… I would like that very much. Is there a nice place you know about?”

“Well, there’s actually a lot of nice places in Locke City. You’d be surprised.”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t go out to dinner much. I mean, I always go out, to eat, I mean, but not to-”

“There are some very nice restaurants,” Tussy repeated. “And they don’t really cost much more than-”

“No, no,” Dett said, holding up his hand as if to pardon his interruption. “This is my fault. I’m not saying what I mean. I want to take you to the nicest place in town. Really. I just don’t know if what I was told is right. Have you ever heard of Chez Bertrand?”

Tussy’s green eyes flashed behind the smoke from her cigarette. “Everybody’s heard of Chez Bertrand,” she said. “But a place like that costs the earth. And you’d have to have reservations, and-”

“That’s where I’d like to take you. Please.”

Tussy paused a beat, then nodded her head. “All right, then,” she said, holding out her hand to shake, as if sealing a deal, “it’s a date. My nights off are Monday and Tuesday. Which would you like?”

“Monday,” Dett said instantly.

Tussy snapped her cigarette into the darkness of the parking lot. “This is my address,” she said, carefully printing something on her order pad. “And my phone number, in case you have to change your plans.”

“I won’t,” Dett said, as she tore the page from her pad and handed it to him. “Would seven o’clock be okay?”

“Perfect. I have to get back to work now, before Booker blows a gasket. Bye!”