Stacia Kane - Wrong Ways Down

“You meet he ever?”

“Nay.” She upended the mug over her mouth and swallowed the contents in one gulp. He guessed he’d do the same iffen he were in her shoes. “Went by he place on one time, waited in the car. Lived … Sixty-second, thinking? Were Tate Street, twixt Sixty-first an Sixty-second. Red building.”

“When this were?”

“Last week? Maybe a few days more. Ain’t long past. Gav saying—Gav saying Archie real smart, got work for he, a real living.”

“Archie working the duff, too?”

“Gav saying some on legit work, dig. Real work, like a straight job. Ain’t knowing iffen that were Archie or no.”

The next box looked to be Gav’s work shit; a smaller box full of fake diamond rings and bracelets, some coins in little plastic bags like the kind for speed, coils of what looked like gold but weren’t. That kinda shit. A stack of fake papers, too, certificates of authenticity and insurance papers and like that, to back up the scam. Why Gav ain’t had any lashers, iffen he had all this? Looked like good quality, too, like he spent some getting it.

Maybe that were why he were broke. He turned to Callie, who sat on she crazy roommate’s bed watching him. “Gav ain’t been making much on he games, aye?”

“Been lean times.” She took a deep shuddery breath. “Saying he figured all be right up in place on the next month. So I covering until then, covering we meals and all.”

He couldn’t help it; first thing he wondered was iffen Gav working he another long game on Callie. She paying all nine months gone? Fuck. He ain’t never heard of a plain duff game running that long. And what Gav had in he box ain’t looked near sophisticated enough for the kinda game that did. That kinda game were about lines of credit and leases and vacation homes and shit; had to be able to talk smart and look rich, and Gav’s collection of khakis and fake engagement rings were nowhere near that kinda thing.

So the idea that Gav had been planning something for nine months … he ain’t could help thinking it sounded more like maybe Gav found heself a free ride. He hoped he were wrong. Callie ain’t deserved some shitbag made a dame pay his way. “Why he ain’t moving in here with you?”

She gestured at the bed she sat on. “Viola ain’t liking me having dudes here all night. Got real mad, she done, when he tried stayin more’n one in a row. So … we was waiting till we could afford we own place. Stayed with he most nights, I done, only with it bein so cold now … ”

He felt like there oughta be some more he could say or something, the way she kept crying. But what else was she supposed to do, and what was he supposed to do? Couldn’t stand there all night holding she hand. He had to work. And he ain’t knew her, not really. One night a year or so past, and he ain’t seen or talked to her again. He ain’t had the faintest idea how to help her feelings, and ain’t had the time neither. Made him feel bad, but were true all the same.

“He give you any else? Gave you aught might explain on this, might give me someplace to look?”

She sighed, a real long heavy sigh. “Say the new thing were real solid, say would pull in lots and make em rich. Bigger … bigger something, he done said. Something selling itself, he ain’t hardly having to work it, he say. But that all he say, aye? Ain’t gave me any else. Saying wanting surprise me.”

He sorted through the last box fast as he could. Some pictures of what looked like Gav’s family. Couple notebooks; he grabbed them, too. More clothes … nothing else he might could use.

He waved the notebooks at Callie. “Taking these, aye? Can bring em back if you’re wanting, on the later.”

She nodded. He got the feeling she were ready for him to go. Ain’t could blame her there. Iffen he were her he wouldn’t want to watch him digging through she boyfriend’s shit neither. He’d want to be alone. Felt like she sadness were so big it filled the room, and ain’t left much space for him.

He headed for the door, paused in front of her. What was he supposed to say there? “Gonna find who done this, aye? I find em. You recall any else you thinking be good knowledge for me, even any you thinking maybe ain’t important, you let me know, aye?”

“Ain’t got you number,” she said.

Shit. He ain’t gave out he actual number much. Wouldn’t have thought twice on giving her the street-man number usually, but given that he’d seen her naked … he’d feel like an asshole giving her a number answered by somebody else.

So he scrawled down his, opened he wallet. He ain’t had much on him; only fifty, but he handed it over. “Here. For the knowledge, aye? An gimme a ring-up iffen you recall aught, or any else happens. Maybe you hearing from somebody knew he, or like that. Lemme know.”

He wondered if she would.

Archie had the look Terrible had seen before, like he figured he were the smartest, coolest dude ever walked on the ground. Like he jerked off into a mirror.

And the way Archie looked back at him made him want to punch the fucker in the mouth. Smug, he guessed were the word for it. And Terrible knew exactly what Archie were thinking as he looked at him: Big dumb ugly goon, I can lie to him easy and he ain’t know the difference.

Fine with him, Archie wanted to think that way. Causen one of two things was going to happen. Either Archie was going to learn Terrible weren’t so dumb by paying attention, or Archie was going to learn Terrible weren’t so dumb by getting his nose broken. And Terrible kinda hoped it was the second one.

Past Archie Terrible could see his apartment. Nicer than most. Looked like Archie even put money into the place. His suspicions rose. Archie coulda made that money on cons, easy, but why live in Downside if he making that kinda cash? Anybody had the money to have stuff like that furniture, that stereo and big-ass TV … anybody had that kind of money, they didn’t live in Downside.

Except him, aye, but he had a reason for living there.

Archie had lived in Downside long enough to know what to say when he opened the door, too. “I don’t want trouble with Bump.”

They all said that. Even when they’d gone and gotten themselves in trouble on purpose, they said it. “You answer me, you ain’t have trouble, dig?”

Archie nodded. He didn’t step back to let Terrible in. That didn’t matter. Terrible shoved him out of the way and walked in, scanning the place fast to make sure nobody were hiding in there.

He didn’t look back at Archie, though. Let Archie know he weren’t scared. He’d see Archie out the corner of his eye, iffen he tried to make a move.

The place was way too fucking nice for Downside. He had one a them big-ass wall units that held his TV and all, had glass doors on it. Couch and chair looked brand new.

Could have all been stolen. But still. “Nice place.”

He felt Archie hesitate behind him. Felt his surprise. Hadn’t expected him to talk first, had he? No, causen he was one of them assholes read books about business strategy or whatever, like dealing with people was nothing more than a set of ten rules. And none of those rules applied there anyway. Terrible had the “tactical advantage,” and he knew it, causen if Archie tried playing games with him he’d just beat him down. Made things real easy.

Especially since Archie looked like a dude afraid to get hurt. Being afraid to get hurt meant he lost. Always. The key to winning was knowing that kind of pain ain’t last, and knowing how to take it. Knowing how to make it work, how to get used to it. Learning to accept it. Welcome it. Get so you wanted it.

Terrible was good at all of that. Feeling it outside beat feeling it inside.

Archie still hadn’t said anything. Terrible glanced back at him, still standing there by the door. “Goin out?”