Part 7 (1/2)
”Still a home,” Bubba said. ”Can't call someone homeless if they have, ya know, a f.u.c.king home.”
On some purely Bubba level, he had me there.
On the other side of Savin Hill Avenue, the door to Donovan's bar opened. I nudged Bubba, pointed across the avenue as Webster crossed toward us.
”He's homeless, but he's in a bar. This guy has a better life than me. Probably has a f.u.c.king plasma and a Brazilian chick comes Tuesdays to clean and vacuum.”
Bubba threw open his door as Webster was about to pa.s.s the SUV. Webster paused and, in that second, forfeited any chance to escape. Bubba towered over him and I came around from the other side and Bubba said, ”Remember him?”
Webster had adopted a position of half-cringe. When he recognized me, he closed his eyes to slits.
”I'm not going to hit you, man.”
”I will, though.” Bubba slapped Webster on the side of his head.
”Hey!” Webster said.
”I'll do it again.”
”Webster,” I said, ”where's my bag?”
”What bag?”
I said, ”Really?”
Webster looked at Bubba.
”My bag,” I said.
”I gave it back.”
”To who?”
”Max.”
”Who's Max?”
”He's Max. He's the guy paid me to take your bag.”
”Red-haired dude?” I said.
”No. Dude's got, like, black hair.”
Bubba slapped the side of Webster's head again.
”What the h.e.l.l you do that for?”
Bubba shrugged.
”He bores easily,” I said.
”I didn't do do nothing.” nothing.”
”You didn't what?” I pointed at my face.
”I didn't know they were going to do that. They just told me to steal your bag.”
”Where's the redheaded guy?” I said.
”I don't know any redheaded guy.”
”Fine, where's Max?”
”I don't know.”
”Where'd you take the bag? You wouldn't take it back to the same house where I chased you.”
”No, man, I took it to a garage.”
”What kind of garage?”
”Huh? Like a place that fixes cars and s.h.i.+t. Has a few for sale out front.”
”Where?”
”On Dot Ave., just before Freeport, on the right.”
”I know that place,” Bubba said. ”It's, like, Castle Automotive or something.”
”Kestle. With a K,” Webster said.
Bubba slapped him upside the head again.
”Ow. s.h.i.+t.”
”You take anything out of the bag?” I said. ”Anything?”
”Nah, man. Max told me not to, so I didn't.”
”But you looked in there.”
”Yeah. No.” He rolled his eyes. ”Yeah.”
”There was a picture of a little girl in there.”
”Yeah, I saw it.”
”You put it back?”