“Dio said his mamma died.”
“Then it was his aunt.”
“Damn, man,” he said.
“A little extra kick that we needed,” Trey said. “Right?”
“Teddy will want to know.”
“And you’ll tell him about his aunt,” Trey said. “I keep up with all his family. They’re all part of the estate. Teddy will understand.”
“Is it good?”
“The best.”
“Don’t want to be known for producin’ a dead man all my life.”
“Dio is forever,” Trey said, reaching for Malcolm’s hand.
Malcolm didn’t take it. “You startin’ to make sense.”
Trey stopped smiling and had to catch his breath. “What are you talking about?”
“You know, Brill,” he said. “Quit tryin’ to fuck me.”
“Keep cool.”
Malcolm’s face turned inward. “This shit got to stop.”
Trey walked over to the window. From the outside, they just looked like mirrors. Dozens of silver glass frames. But on the inside, everything was so fucking clear. The Quarter. A gambling boat drifting down the river. Some women lining up down by Harrah’s.
“Let’s roll,” Trey said.
“I’m done.”
“Nope,” Trey said. “We’re hangin’ out Uptown. Some wicked women I know going be down at F &M’s later. You’re a celebrity after that spread of you and Teddy in the
Malcolm stared at Trey. Trey could hear Malcolm’s breathing.
Trey didn’t even look back. He’d come back around. They always did.
He downed the martini, cranked the tunes, and danced. It was Friday night every night of his life.
Malcolm flipped the CDs onto Trey’s desk and walked away.
I EXAMINED A SMUDGE of blue welts along my rib cage as I stepped out of the shower and got more pissed off.
I needed to call Teddy and tell him about Cash. He’d want to know about the deal for ALIAS, although he wouldn’t take it. Everything was about the kid. His money and his talents.
As I was about to pick up the phone, I kicked my toe at the copy of
The book had been my only insight into a woman who’d killed herself the day she’d turned thirty-two.
She left me with my father, an alcoholic high-school football coach, who let our farm in Alabama become overgrown in high grass and filled with rotting fences and barns.
I brushed off the blackened edges of the book, flipped through the pages that weren’t fused. I checked the cover page, as I often did.
I stood for a few minutes trying to catch my breath and slipped into a pair of 501s, a King Biscuit Festival T from 1991, and my boots. I thought about the Chief and wondered who he’d been to my mother and sometimes got mad at him for not trying to save her.
I called Pinky’s Bar. Fred wasn’t there and I hung up.
The phone rang in my hand.
“What you got?” Teddy asked.
“Who’s Nae Nae?”
“Nick, man, I told you to stay out of Malcolm’s business.”
“Who is Nae Nae?”
“Bitch he got pregnant last year,” he said. “What she tellin’ you about Malcolm? Ain’t nothin’ but lies, man. Did you know she even set up a goddamned Web site about her havin’ Malcolm’s baby and him not giving her any money. Ain’t that some shit? A Web site, man. Somethin’ like malcolmsbaby-dot-com. Shit.”
“Cash said he wants to trade ALIAS for your life.”
“No way.”
“Where does Nae Nae live?”
“Nick,” he said. “Come on.”
THIRTY MINUTES later, I pulled into a short driveway off Elysian Fields with Teddy and Polk Salad Annie by my side. Teddy was in his silk bathrobe and working cell phone calls trying to borrow the money Cash wanted, while Annie chewed on a bone I’d brought.
“Does that animal fart?” Teddy asked. “Or was that you, Nick?”
“She’s a lady.”
“So it was you?”
“It was the dog.”
Teddy snapped shut the cell phone and tucked it into his pocket. He wore a black fedora on his head and had an unlit cigar in his mouth. A dry wind kicked up some elephant ears and palm trees. Across the street, I heard a child screaming.
“You feelin’ better?” I asked.
“I ain’t leavin’ town,” he said.
“Cash just wants the kid.”
“Cash will do what he says,” he said. “That’s his way.”
