‘Sorry. Gotta go,’ Piano Man said to Niles.
‘Thanks for the beer,’ Brazil said politely to West as he scooted back from the table. ‘Chief Hammer, I’ll get you safely to your car.’
West showed them out. She stood in front of the foyer table again, but not in time. Brazil saw the florist’s card with West’s name typed on it.
‘Good night,’ West said to them.
CHAPTER twelve
Brazil was jittery and angry as he trotted under streetlights along Mulberry, worrying that he would find his BMW gone or vandalized. He was tempted to turn around and show up at West’s house, demanding an explanation.
It was true that their relationship in Charlotte had been somewhat complicated by their differences. She was older and accomplished. She had power. Her personality was the opposite of his. But she had been his mentor when he worked the police beat for the paper and rode the streets at night as a volunteer cop. Those had been the best stories Brazil had ever written. They had won prizes and changed the way people thought. They had changed the way he thought, too.
He had decided to become a real cop, as his father had been, and West had given Brazil the courage. She had helped him and loved him even through fights that were violent storms. When they made up it was always unbelievable. Brazil could not think of her without reliving every taste and touch. He did not know why she had changed so abruptly, and when he had asked, she would not say. It was as if they had never been lovers or even close friends. He did not push because maybe his primal fear was true. He just wasn’t worth it. No one in his life had ever made him feel he was. His father had died when Brazil was a boy and Brazil’s mother did not love herself and wasn’t capable of loving anyone. For a while, West had filled a terrible space in Brazil’s life. He hated Jim. How dare Jim send her flowers.
Smoke ordered Sick, Beeper, Dog and Divinity to keep an eye on Weed and make sure he didn’t try taking a detour that might screw up their plans for the night..
So the Pikes set out in Dog’s ’69 Pontiac Lemans, cruising dark stretches of West Gary looking unsuccessfully for any sign of the drunk little motherfucker.
‘I’m thirsty,’ Divinity said.
‘Fucking yeah,’ said Beeper.
‘Come on, Dog. Let’s see you do your trick,’ Divinity said.
Dog didn’t like being thought of as a dog that did tricks. He never said anything, though. He pretty much just went along and did what he was told.
‘What flavor you want this time?’ Dog asked.
‘Lemme see,’ Divinity considered. ‘How about something ice, baby? Maybe Michelob Ice? I’m fucking sick of Bud and all that other shit you’re always getting that tastes like piss. ‘Sides, baby, ice got more spin in it. You know, makes your head go round and around.’
She thought she was very funny and just loved laughing with herself. Dog pulled into a 7-Eleven and used his fake ID to buy a second six-pack of Michelob Ice while Beeper and Sick caused a diversion by Beeper’s pretending to slip on the floor and Sick’s having to help him up as Divinity browsed shelves and tucked whatever she wanted inside her denim bag.
‘I think we find him we have some fun,’ Dog said as he peeled out of the parking lot and started thinking about Weed again. ‘I don’t like him.”
‘That’s ’cause he paints, baby, and you can’t do a fucking thing,’ Divinity said.
Dog felt himself get meaner. ‘He needs to learn about life,’ Dog said. “Bout showing respect.’
‘You go about making him show respect and Smoke’s gonna tear your ass off and feed it to a pit bull,’ Divinity said as she sipped her beer.
Tuck Smoke.’ Dog turned back onto West Gary Street. ‘I’m not fucking afraid of him.’
It wasn’t true. Dog hadn’t been Dog until last Christmas when he’d just turned fifteen and was shopping around for a little crack and ran into Divinity and Smoke at the mall on Chimborazo Boulevard. Smoke sold Dog a couple rocks and then pulled a pistol and stole the rocks back and kept Dog’s money.