Jimmy and Fay by Michael Mayo Page A

she married a Chinaman, she was Mother Quinn, and my father had been told to find her when he came to America from Ireland. He did that, and he and my mother moved into her place. Then after he left and my mother died, Mother Moon raised me. She taught me how to steal and who to steal from, how to run and how to fight when I absolutely had to, and she hired me out to Rothstein as a messenger. She also loved her pipe. On those days and nights when she was not in the mood to stretch out in the Sans Souci opium den, she’d give me money and send me over to the place on Third Avenue to buy a can and bring it home. Pearl did the same for Kitty and Melissa Louise, and that’s where we met, back at the office with a Dutch door where the old man who ran the place kept the supply that he’d dole out to a few old and trusted customers.
    The sign on the street said that the Sans Souci was a music hall, and they did have some kind of entertainment. There was also a restaurant and a casino. The opium den was around back and in the basement. But if you wanted to pick up a tin of the best-quality stuff, you had to call ahead and see the old guy.
    That’s what I was doing one evening, waiting in an alcove off the main hallway and outside the office, when Pearl showed up.
    She was not happy to be there. Melissa Louise told her it was completely safe and provided the car and driver and said that everything had been arranged, but the Sans Souci was not in the best neighborhood, and Pearl had hoped that part of the city was behind her.
    Chinese waiters and other guys hustled through the hallway. It was narrow, crowded, dim, and thick with incense and tobacco smoke. A few of the guys glared at us suspiciously, but most paid us no mind. Pearl crowded in next to me. Even though I was just a kid, I was about her size and color. She said, “Is this the place for . . .”
    â€œYeah,” I answered and rapped twice quick on the door. “Mr. Ung, you’ve got another customer.”
    The top part of the door swung open, bumping into us, and I could see Mr. Ung perched on his tall stool in front of a rolltop desk that took up most of the room. There was a little five-tael can of opium on the desktop. Mr. Ung gave Pearl the once-over and said, “Who you?”
    Pearl stood as tall as she could, handed the old guy an envelope, and said, “Miss Melissa Louise called. I’m expected.”
    He sniffed and snatched the envelope. He said, “You wait,” and started to pull the door shut.
    I grabbed it and held it open. “Hey, that’s mine,” I said, pointing to the can.
    He gave me a mean look, handed it over, and slammed the door. I could’ve left then, but I could tell the girl wanted me to stick around, so I pocketed the dope and introduced myself. “Don’t worry about him,” I said. “They wouldn’t let you in if they didn’t know somebody was coming. First time?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œHow much are you picking up?”
    â€œThree cans of”—she looked at a slip of paper—“Li Yun.”
    I told her that was the good stuff and the cans would fit in her bag, and she should be sure to keep it closed and tucked under her arm.
    She shot me a skeptical look and said, “I may be new to this, but I’m not stupid. Besides, I’ve got a driver right outside. I’m not worried.”
    Like hell she wasn’t worried. Pearl knew her way around some rough parts of town, but being in a place like that for the first time, she could use a little company, even a smart-ass kid like me.
    I waited until Mr. Ung came back and checked the labels to make sure it was the Li Yun, not some junk he was trying to foist off. But I guess Melissa Louise was on the level. Pearl stuffed the cans down deep, clutched her bag, and held onto my arm as I led her back out by the restaurant to Third Avenue where her car and driver were waiting. She said,