Dog Soldiers (15 page)

“
Uh-uh,
”
June said.
“
I don
’
t want you to call me.
”

It was Dumb Question Night.

“
Why not?
”

“
Owen is gonna kill you if he sees you. You know he
’
s
like armed, man. He
’
s insane with rage.
”

Hicks shook his head. Someone tapped on the booth door with a coin.
“
If he
’
s insane with rage I won
’
t trouble him. Can he hear you?
”

“
He
’
s out in the garage working over the machine, like I don
’
t even want him to catch me on the phone.
”

“
He wouldn
’
t turn me, would he, June? He wouldn
’
t narc me over?
”

“
I don
’
t think so. Just don
’
t be around.
”

“
You asshole,
”
Hicks said.
“
You told him. What did you tell him for?
”

“
Oh, man,
”
June said.
“
Who knows why they do the shit they do?
”

“
The desires of the heart,
”
Hicks said,
“
are as crooked as a corkscrew.
”

“
That
’
s about how it is,
”
June said.

He held the receiver, hooked up with the general static. The bloods at the table
were broadcasting cocaine vibra
tions. From his pocket he took the slip of United Seaman
’
s Service stationery which had Marge
’
s phone number writ ten on it. When he had done that, he threw a snappy little hand signal to absolutely no one at a point beside the door. One of th
e bloods turned to check it out.

“
Odeon,
”
the voice said. Hicks smiled. A collegiate whine.

“
Marge?
”

“
Yes?
”

“
This is Ray.
”

“
Oh,
”
she said.
“
Hi.
”

It was nic
e to be important.

“
I
’
ll fall by early tomorrow. Everything O.K.?
”

“
Yes. Yes, all right.
”

“
See you then.
”

“
See you then.
”

He left the phone booth and went quickly out to the street. For a while he walked away from the bay, toward the hills and the lights. In the first block he came to, there were two winos butting shoulders to see which of them could knock the other down. The stopped the game as he came up and approached as though they would panhandle him, but as he passed them they only stood panting and stared.

“
I
’
m the one in the middle,
”
Hicks told them.

In the next block a camperload of freaks sat eating white bread and bologna sandwiches on the sidewalk beside their vehicle. Hicks paused to watch them eat. One of the boys turned around to glare at him and he was offended.
“
I
’
ll fuck every
one of you,
”
he declared.

“
Oh, wow
”
one of the girls said through a mouthful of bread and meat. They turned their backs on him.

“
I was only kidding,
”
Hicks said.
“
I wouldn
’
t really.
”

In a third block was a bar with playing cards and wheels of fortune painted on the windows. The inside walls were dark blue and decorated wi
th the same symbols but the cus
tomers were mainly old men. Whatever arcane scene once informed the place had moved on. Hicks sat down at the bar and continued with his party.

His head was going bad. The painted cards and dark walls oppressed him. Accumulated venom — from Etsuko, Owen, the blacks in the Gateway — was fouling his blood. He did not get drunk very often and sometimes then he did a gulf formed between his own place and the field of folk. His own place was represented by a tattoo he wore on his left arm. It was the Greek word
Å
’
óèëüò
;
Hicks understood it to mean
Those Who Are
. When people asked him what it meant he often told them
it meant that he was para
noid.

A familiar rage descended on him; it was like a binding in which he could hardly breathe and only blows could loosen it.

He sat drinking, trying to writhe free. For a while he tried to escape by pondering what things he might do with the money, but the money was in the hands of devious fuckups, and he became even angrier.

Just as he was attempting to summon sufficient self-interest to remove himself from the street, a rabbit-mouthed longhair came into the place, chewing on a toothpick, and settled himself a short distance up the bar. It occurred to Hicks that the youth might attach to the old action; he found the kid
’
s presence and proximity disproportionately offensive.

The youth ordered a beer in a New York accent and drank it with a pill. He dropped his toothpick on the bar. When he saw that Hicks was looking at him, he said:

“
What do you say, Cap?
”
When Hicks did not r
eply, he flashed him a quick ap
proving downward glance.

The kid was a pogue. It seemed to Hicks that if he got any drunker and his place any lonelier and more savage he might actually have some
sort of a shot at him. The pros
pect, however remote, revolted him.

“
You see the fight last night? What a fuckin
’
slaughter, right?
”
The kid advanced a step or so closer.
“
I tell you the only way you get a nigger to bleed is put a razor in your glove.
”

Hicks decided that he was crazy. He was not opposed, in principle, to beating up on crazy people.
“
I
’
m from New York,
”
the kid said.
“
You been there lately?
”

Hicks finished his beer.

“
Nobody asked you where you were from. Mind your fucking business.
”

“
Far out,
”
the kid said.
He did not seem at all discour
aged. It was on rails now, Hicks thought. He became impatient for the thing to begin. The kid studied him thoughtfully as though on the point of a decision.

“
You
’
re one mean motherfucker, right?
”

Hicks shrugged and stood up, his right shoulder stooped.

“
I
’
m what?
”

The kid began talking fast New York.

“
I said you were a bad motherfucker, man like you look like you could handle yourself. Like I wouldn
’
t fuck with you.
”
He held his hand out with the palm facing Hicks as if to intercept a blow.

“
I thought you were.
”

“
Jesus, Cap, I apologize. I
’
d buy you a beer and a ball but I ain
’
t got the bread. This is my last quarter I swear to God.
”

“
I don
’
t want your beer, pogue.
”

“
C
’
mon. Don
’
t call me that.
”

“
I don
’
t want your beer, pogue.
”

“
O.K.,
”
the boy said,
“
if you
’
re gonna be like that.
”

Hicks had been counting on hitting him. But both he and the boy were aware of how drunk he was, and there was need for caution. The need for caution infuriated Hicks the more.

“
I tell you what, Cap,
”
the kid said after a moment,
“
you want to help me waste a dude?
”
Hicks stared at him.

“
I got a meet with this faggot. He
’
s a really loaded dude, man, he
’
s got like five-hundred-dollar suits. He
’
s got this jewelry and a Rolex and shit and all these credit cards. You want to take him off?
”

The boy moved closer.

“
I could do it myself but this dude is like big. If there
’
s two guys, one guy has a blade — no problem.
”

Hicks looked into his eyes. They were nearly sky blue with touches of amphetamine pink at the corners and long dark lashes. When he spoke, he rubbed his jaw with his thumb so that his fingers covered his mouth. He was one of the worst-smelling people Hicks had ever encountered.

“
He
’
s a Jew from television, a big faggot
.
We show him the blade, man, he
’
ll shit his pants.
”

“
You
’
re putting me on,
”
Hicks said.

It was almost funny. Maybe it was funny.

The kid took a cigarette from his shirt pocket without removing the pack. He was a museum of yardbird reflexes.

“
I swear to God,
”
the kid said.
“
You want a piece of this?
”

Hicks
’
anger was broken. He stared at the kid in wonder.

“
With two guys, man — what do you say?
”

“
Have a beer,
”
Hicks said.

The youth smiled. Whe
n he smiled his upper teeth set
tled on his lower lip, and he discharged air between them.

If he had smiled a moment sooner Hicks would have cracked his skull. But Hicks had no desire to strike him now. The kid was a whole trip, the whole arcana. You couldn
’
t just hit such people. They were holy.

“
You the one with the blade?
”
Hicks asked.

The youth looked down at his own leg, and his eyes closed for a moment in sensuous anticipation.

Hicks kicked him in the s
hin. His foot struck a large ob
ject under the trouser cloth.

“
What the fuck is that?
”

The youth smiled modestly.
“
A bayonet.
”

Hicks laughed and struck the bar with the palm of his hand.

“
You
’
re not a self-respecting person.
”

“
The fuck I ain
’
t,
”
the kid said.
“
That
’
s why I got this man, because I
’
m a self-respecting person.
”

“
You have a name?
”

“
Joey,
”
the kid said.
“
This girl in Long Island used to call
me Broadway Joe because I look a lot like Joe Namath.
”

“
That
’
s fine,
”
Hicks said.
“
You can just call me Cap. I like it.
”