George Pelecanos - Soul Circus

“Smells like home,” said Lionel with a shrug.

Couldn’t put my finger on it, thought Strange. But, yeah, there it is.

They ate in the dining room after Strange said grace, and the food was delicious. Lionel was graduating from Coolidge High, and the ceremony was coming up soon. He had been accepted to Maryland University in College Park and would start there in the fall. He had been down on the fact that he would not be able to afford to live on campus, but Strange had bought the old Chevy for him, his first car, and that had somewhat offset his disappointment.

“How’s that car running?” said Strange.

“Good,” said Lionel. “I took it up to the detail place and had them brighten up the wheels.”

“You check the oil?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“ ’Cause you got to do that,” said Strange. “You need to change that oil every three or four months, at the outside.”

“Okay.”

“You want that car to last you, hear?”

“I said okay.”

“You don’t change the oil, it’s like gettin’ on with a woman without giving her a kiss.”

“Derek,” said Janine.

“It might feel real good when you’re doing it, but you want her to be there for you the next time you get the urge.”

“Derek.”

“What I mean is, a woman ain’t gonna be stayin’ around too long if you don’t treat her right. Car’s the same way.”

Lionel shifted in his seat. “You mean, like, changing the oil on the car is kinda like giving a woman flowers, right?”

“Exactly,” said Strange, relieved that Lionel had gotten him out of the woods.

Lionel cocked his head. “You supposed to do that every time you hit it, or every three or four months?”

“Lionel!”

“Sorry, Mom. It’s just, Derek is getting deep with me here, and I wanted to make sure I understood.”

Janine flashed her eyes at Strange.

“Dinner’s delicious, baby,” said Strange.

“Glad you’re enjoying it,” said Janine.

The three of them watched the game in the living room. Strange and Janine were for the Lakers, and Lionel was for the Sixers. It was a generational thing, like Frazier-Ali had been thirty years back.

On the television screen, Robert Horry was sinking foul shots like there was nothing on the line, though this was the championship series and the game was close, with less than a minute to play.

“Man is ice,” said Strange. “Experience beats youth, every time.”

“Girl at school told me today I look like Rick Fox,” said Lionel.

“Must’ve been a blind girl,” said Strange.

“Funny.”

“I’m playing with you. But what’s up with his hair?”

“The girls be geekin’ behind it.”

“You ever grow your hair like that, you and me are gonna have to have a talk.”

“You think all dudes are funny, don’t look a certain way.”

“He could afford a comb, at least, all that money he’s got.”

“You’re just old-time.”

“You think that’s what it is?”

“I got news for you. Women love that dude, Pop.”

Strange grinned. Lionel had been calling him “pop” more and more these days. He couldn’t even put into words the way it made him feel. Proud and happy, and scared, too, all at once.

“All I’m saying is,” said Strange, “you don’t need to be gettin’ any fancy hairstyles for the girls to like you. And anyway, you look good the way you are.”

Later, Strange and Janine sat on the couch splitting a bottle of beer. Lionel had gone out to see a girl he liked, who called the house several times a night. He had assured his mother that he wouldn’t be late.

“That was pretty smooth tonight,” said Janine. “Comparing women to cars.”

“Yeah, I know. You got to remember, though, I came to this game late. You had sixteen years of practice with that boy before I even came through the door.”

“You’re doing fine.”

“I’m trying.”

“Oh, Derek, I almost forgot. Some man called today asking if he could talk to you about the Oliver case.”

“Was it one of the lawyers?”

“No, this was a white guy, and anyway, I recognize those lawyers’ voices by now. But this guy hung up before I could get a number.”

“Caller ID?”

“It said ‘No Data’ on the screen.”

“He’ll call back,” said Strange. He turned and kissed Janine on the side of her mouth. “Listen, we got some time before Lionel gets home…”

“I don’t feel like going up just yet,” said Janine. “I’m happy sitting right here for a while, you don’t mind.”

“I’m happy, too,” said Strange.

And he was. He couldn’t think of anyplace he’d rather be. Strange didn’t know for the life of him why he was fighting all this. These were the people he loved, and this was home.

SUE Tracy lit a cigarette and got up naked off the couch. Quinn watched her move to the stereo to change the music and felt himself swallow. To have a woman, a woman who looked like a woman, all hips and breasts and just-fucked hair, parading around his crib without a stitch like it was the most natural thing in the world to do, this was what he had dreamed of since he was a boy, when he’d found those magazines behind the toolshed in his backyard. Quinn was so stoked now he wanted to phone his friends. But then he thought, Shit, my friend is right here in front of me. He had never figured on this part back when he was twelve years old. The stroke mags never taught you that.

“What?” said Tracy.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me and you’ve got a silly smile on your face.”

“You look nice.”

“Yeah, so do you. You want another beer?”

“Okay.”

He heard her washing herself in the bathroom, and soon she returned with two more beers and a towel for Quinn. She sat on the couch and stretched her legs out, her toes noodling with the hair on Quinn’s thighs.

“Good night,” said Tracy.

“Really good,” said Quinn.

They tapped bottles and kissed.

“You were late getting here,” said Tracy.

“I was finishing up something for Derek, over in Northeast. Confirming an address on a woman for a client of ours. It was a bullshit job, but I took care of it.”

“Why was it bullshit?”

“I don’t know,” said Quinn, the self-disgust plain in his voice.

“Why?”

Quinn looked away. “I had to lie to this kid, the son of the woman, to confirm the address. I tricked him, see? The look he gave me afterwards… I bet you money he’s been told all his life to distrust white people, that in the end white folks are always gonna fuck you over if you’re black. And you know how I feel, that it’s wrong to plant that kind of seed in any kid’s head, no matter what color you’re talking about, because it never gets unlearned. So it just got to me, to see that look he gave me, like everything he’d been taught had come true. And you know he’s never gonna forget.”

“Who’s looking for his mother?”

“A loser. That was the other thing that bugged me. That we just found this woman for this client, knowing this client’s type, without giving it any kind of thought. ’Cause whoever this client is, he’s no good, just a bad one to put anywhere near that boy’s life. But Derek and me, we treat it like a game sometimes, who’s got the bigger set of balls, like that, without thinking about the consequences. I don’t know; I’m just pissed off at myself, that’s all.”

“You’re angry.”

“As usual, right? Derek tells me I gotta relax.”

Tracy looked down at Quinn’s equipment, lying flaccid between his legs. “You look pretty relaxed to me.”

“I’m just resting. You want me to rally, I will.”