another quick one saying, "I have to see a state cop from the CIB in about ten minutes. You know what CIB stands for?"
"What it means every place they have it," Robert said, watching Dennis again looking around the suite, still holding on to the joint, pinching it, looking at the balcony open to blue sky and around to the table by the sofa, looking at Robert's stack of CDs now and the jam box, where John Lee Hooker was coming from.
Dennis said it. "JohnLeeHooker."
Robert said, "You got the ear." Dennis told him he used to have the CD, "King of Boogie," and Robert said, "I'll try another one on you. See how good you are."
He watched Dennis take his third hit. This time he handed back the joint saying, "That's good stuff."
"It's all right. I scored it last night."
"After you dropped me off?"
"Way after, with my friend the security brother use to be a Memphis policeman? He took me to a place called Junebug's, a white man's idea of a juke joint, full of ugly people giving us dirty looks, except some young ladies and the management. The young ladies wanted to show us their trailers and the management wanted to sell us uppers. I said I go the other way, chief, and scored a bag, three bills the local rate for a half. We leave, some of the uglies come outside, their intention I'm feeling to kick our heads in. But they see the gleaming black Jag-u-ar and their minds go, shit, who is this nigga owns a car like that? We drive off I give 'em a toot."
He could see Dennis was anxious to tell him something and there were things Robert would like to know, but wanted Dennis sitting down first, at ease-on the sofa, good-and a cool drink? Uh-unh.
Dennis said, "The two guys, the ones looking up at me on the ladder ...?
"The ones shot your man Floyd."
"They own Junebug's."
"Hey, shit, you don't mean to tell me." It brought a grin. "The one being Junebug himself and the other one was Arlen ... Novis?"
"The one we thought was the Lone Ranger," Dennis said, looser than when he walked in, up from a seven to eight, grinning back, Dennis saying, "But how do you know that?"
"I told you, I do my homework. And Junebug and Mr. Novis musta done Floyd before I started watching, huh?" Dennis looked toward the balcony and Robert said, "Not out there, the bedroom window. I was getting dressed."
He offered Dennis the joint but he shook his head.
"Don't want to go off the perch baked."
"I have. It's not a good idea."
"So they saw you and they know you saw them."
"I have to meet the CIB guy," Dennis said, looking at his watch. "You were me, what would you tell him?"
"Tell him I wasn't there. Tell him I'm just a dumb white boy dives offa eighty-foot ladders. Why didn't they shoot you?"
"Charlie came out."
"That's right. Why didn't they shoot him, too?" "He knows those guys. Charlie use to run whiskey."
"They friends of his?"
"He knows 'em, that's all."
"Tells 'em you won't say nothing, but you not sure they believe it. They know if you point 'em out they gone."
"That's where I am," Dennis said.
"Saying to yourself, what the fuck am I doing here? Thinking it might be best to take off."
He watched Dennis frown and shake his head saying he wasn't going anywhere, he had his show set up.
Good. He was cool, gonna face whatever, ride it out.
"Let's me and you," Robert said, "stay close. You know what I'm saying? Help each other out. Like I wouldn't mind you coming with me to see Mr. Kirkbride." It got Dennis frowning again. "For fun. Watch the man's face when I show him the picture. Watch how I play him."
"You want an audience," Dennis said, getting up from the sofa. "I have to go."
"I watch you perform, you watch me. Listen, I phoned, the man's over at his Southern Living place today."
"And you know who works there?" Dennis said, wandering over to the balcony. "The Lone Ranger."
"I heard that," Robert said. "Understand he did some time, too. See, the security brother still has friends on the Memphis Police. They look up sheets, tell him,
"What it means every place they have it," Robert said, watching Dennis again looking around the suite, still holding on to the joint, pinching it, looking at the balcony open to blue sky and around to the table by the sofa, looking at Robert's stack of CDs now and the jam box, where John Lee Hooker was coming from.
Dennis said it. "JohnLeeHooker."
Robert said, "You got the ear." Dennis told him he used to have the CD, "King of Boogie," and Robert said, "I'll try another one on you. See how good you are."
He watched Dennis take his third hit. This time he handed back the joint saying, "That's good stuff."
"It's all right. I scored it last night."
"After you dropped me off?"
"Way after, with my friend the security brother use to be a Memphis policeman? He took me to a place called Junebug's, a white man's idea of a juke joint, full of ugly people giving us dirty looks, except some young ladies and the management. The young ladies wanted to show us their trailers and the management wanted to sell us uppers. I said I go the other way, chief, and scored a bag, three bills the local rate for a half. We leave, some of the uglies come outside, their intention I'm feeling to kick our heads in. But they see the gleaming black Jag-u-ar and their minds go, shit, who is this nigga owns a car like that? We drive off I give 'em a toot."
He could see Dennis was anxious to tell him something and there were things Robert would like to know, but wanted Dennis sitting down first, at ease-on the sofa, good-and a cool drink? Uh-unh.
Dennis said, "The two guys, the ones looking up at me on the ladder ...?
"The ones shot your man Floyd."
"They own Junebug's."
"Hey, shit, you don't mean to tell me." It brought a grin. "The one being Junebug himself and the other one was Arlen ... Novis?"
"The one we thought was the Lone Ranger," Dennis said, looser than when he walked in, up from a seven to eight, grinning back, Dennis saying, "But how do you know that?"
"I told you, I do my homework. And Junebug and Mr. Novis musta done Floyd before I started watching, huh?" Dennis looked toward the balcony and Robert said, "Not out there, the bedroom window. I was getting dressed."
He offered Dennis the joint but he shook his head.
"Don't want to go off the perch baked."
"I have. It's not a good idea."
"So they saw you and they know you saw them."
"I have to meet the CIB guy," Dennis said, looking at his watch. "You were me, what would you tell him?"
"Tell him I wasn't there. Tell him I'm just a dumb white boy dives offa eighty-foot ladders. Why didn't they shoot you?"
"Charlie came out."
"That's right. Why didn't they shoot him, too?" "He knows those guys. Charlie use to run whiskey."
"They friends of his?"
"He knows 'em, that's all."
"Tells 'em you won't say nothing, but you not sure they believe it. They know if you point 'em out they gone."
"That's where I am," Dennis said.
"Saying to yourself, what the fuck am I doing here? Thinking it might be best to take off."
He watched Dennis frown and shake his head saying he wasn't going anywhere, he had his show set up.
Good. He was cool, gonna face whatever, ride it out.
"Let's me and you," Robert said, "stay close. You know what I'm saying? Help each other out. Like I wouldn't mind you coming with me to see Mr. Kirkbride." It got Dennis frowning again. "For fun. Watch the man's face when I show him the picture. Watch how I play him."
"You want an audience," Dennis said, getting up from the sofa. "I have to go."
"I watch you perform, you watch me. Listen, I phoned, the man's over at his Southern Living place today."
"And you know who works there?" Dennis said, wandering over to the balcony. "The Lone Ranger."
"I heard that," Robert said. "Understand he did some time, too. See, the security brother still has friends on the Memphis Police. They look up sheets, tell him,
Similar Books
