Part 19 (2/2)

Short of it, white boy fine he need book. h.e.l.l, he need a whole f.u.c.kin liberry, digit? Pretty soon, it ain't gonna matter his brains tween his legs or tween his ears, cause Jax, he put the word out. White boy good as meat. If he lucky.

White boy bolt for Howard Street, pay his fare an run. He run past the print shop, past Shantelle. He run til he get to m'man's street, there between. He stop, then, an look around.

Ain't much of a street, like I told ya. Skinny an short. s.h.i.+mmery, kinda, like it always hot. Buildins kinda bright dark, kinda-fuzzy. That the Mouse man's street, awright. What he say-go.

White boy, he don't like the look of m'man's street. White boy, he like street where da buildins don't boogie. Street where it light at day noon, dark at noon night.

White boy, he start thinking, now it too late.

He turn hisself round an go on back up Howard. He go on up to Shantelle, open that door, walk them long dark skinny stairs. Top of that stairs, there's your club, dark an empty, Friday morning. There's Widda hind the counter, countin her wares.

White boy say, ”Lookin f'Mouse Mojo.”

Widda point and that boy turn to see. Table in back. Man at table. Place ain't empty after all.

White boy take hisself over table. Lean on back of the chair an say to m'man.

”Gotta book. Word be out.”

Mouse he look up from his ledger pages. He say, ”Set a spell. I'm with ya directly.”

”I'm tellin' ya-word be out!” white boy say, an I'm askin if that the way you be talk with a man owns a street, when all you got is need?

But the Mouse man, he cool. He pick up his gold pen an go on back to his pages, that big diamond winkin yalla on his least finger. ”Set or go,” he say. ”Make no mine to me.”

Minute or so, white boy set. He fold his hand on table, watch m'man write, then he turn round an snap his finger at Widda.

”Gimme brew.”

She shake her head-”We close”-an go on to the back.

”What t'f.u.c.k-”

”Lady say she close,” Mouse say from over his figgers. ”Nothin say lady gotta sell brew if she close.” He make another number, close his pen an put it way inside his suit coat. He fold his hand top his papers an look at white boy.

”You the boy force Jax woman?”

White boy get a little whiter, there in the dim. ”How-?”

”Like you say, word be out.” Mouse lift a hand, showin palm. ”I ain't no particular friend of Jax. But I never heard his woman did anybody hurt. Never heard that.”

White boy set his face. ”b.i.t.c.h ask for everything she get,” he say, but it don't sound so sure it sounded downtown, now he talkin with m'man.

But Mouse, he only nod. ”So why you come here?”

White boy lick his lips. ”Gotta book. I told ya.” He wait a beat, but Mouse he don't say nothin.

”I'll pay,” white boy say then. ”Cash or stuff, you say what. Jus gotta book outta here, man, quiet an quick. That's all. Got friends in 'troit. I'll pay you to get me there.”

Mouse, he don't say nothin.

White boy lose what sense he got. He slam his fist on table. He glare at m'man.

”Listen, you the book man or aincha?”

”I tell you how it be,” Mouse say then, his voice real quiet, there in the dim. ”I ain't no f.u.c.kin travel agent, you dig? I own that book-I don't rent. You pay me, sure you do. You pay me cash an stuff, just like I tell you. But you don't tell me where you gone, William. I tell you.”

White boy stare. ”What you call me?” He scare, then, think. Well, who wouldn't be? All this life you been Jag Saratoga, workin on your legend an movin up that ladder. Now come a man callin you by nother name from nother life name you half forgot yourself.

”Call you William,” say the Mouse man. ”Call you William Bzdrecky, like you mama name you.”

White boy he sit back, forehead leakin sweat.

”Now, I tell you, William,” say the Mouse man, all quiet in the near dark. ”You wanna book, I sell you book. I Mouse Mojo an what I say-go. I say when an I say where. You dig that, m'man?”

White boy swallow, thinkin this too funky. Thinkin, maybe this too dangerous. Then he think bout Jax an Jax woman an he think bout knifes an cow starters an other hurtfuls they might use him with. He hurt Jax woman-well, he had to, didn't he? b.i.t.c.h claw him, bite him, hit. Had to smack her down, didn't he? Keep her quiet? Show her who boss?

He nod at the Mouse man, jerky like, an wipe his face where the sweat run down.

”Dig it,” he say, his voice scratchin outta his throat.

”Good,” say Mouse an push back from table. He fold his papers an slide them in a side pocket. He straighten that silk knot on his tie, that big diamond leakin green off his finger.

”Come with me,” he tell Jag Saratoga, whose mama name him William Bzdrecky, an head off down them stairs.

They hit the street an Mouse turn left. White boy look right fore he follow, see three Jax boys movin down the sidewalk from Preston. White boy scuttle after Mouse.

”They here. They right behine,” he say into Mouse's ear. Mouse don't even look around.

”We fine, boy. They know better then come down this street. ”

He take white boy's elbow an steer him right, tween the clean factory an Shantelle. Steer him right onto that street an it be hot an the buildins boogie an s.h.i.+mmer: yella, red, green, black, mocha-gone. An back.

White boy stop an throw his hand in front his face. ”Why they do that, man?”

”That?” Mouse look at the buildins, look at them dancin. And he smile some, Mouse, cuz this his street and what he say-go.

”See, they do that cuz they ain't neither here nor there,” he tell white boy. ”They here an there-they boogie down with Granny Time.”

White boy don't dig it, course, would you? But he don't get to say, cuz Mouse move his hand an that diamond show wetblood red-move his hand an say, ”This way, now, boy. You gotta book an I don't wanna keep ya.”

He go on down that s.h.i.+mmery, glimmery sidewalk an white boy got no choice but follow. He don't be likin this, unnerstan, but Mouse Mojo is his only hope of life. Jax boys find him, they make him into pieces, then kill the pieces, one by one. He take one look behine fore he follow Mouse away, just to see how close Jax boys come.

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