The Frumious Bandersnatch полностью

The next exit was Hampton Boulevard, and Hampton Boulevard was one of the worst sections in Riverhead. The population on Hamp Bull, as it was familiarly called, was largely Puerto Rican and Dominican; the local cops joked that around here English was the second language. The Hamp Bull Precinct was nicknamed The Dead Zone, and for good reason; it was worth your life to walk around here after dark, even if you were a policeman. Drug-infested and crime-ridden, the ten square blocks encompassed by the precinct were at the very top of the Commissioner’s list of Red Alert Areas. Ollie swung the car off at the exit sign, and drove up the ramp.

He said nothing for several moments.

At last, he said, “So this is where you live, huh?”

“1113 Purcell,” she said, and nodded.

“How long you been living here?”

“I was born here.”

“Your folks, too?”

“No, my parents were born in Puerto Rico. Mayagüez. You make the next left.”

Ollie nodded.

Young men were standing on every street corner.

“My brother and my sisters were born here, though,” Patricia said.

“1113, you said?”

“The project up ahead.”

“Got it.”

He pulled the Impala next to the curb. Some young guys wearing gang bandannas were playing basketball under the lights in the playground. They turned to watch as Ollie came around to let Patricia out on the curb side. In a seemingly casual move, he unbuttoned his jacket and flipped it open to show the holstered Glock. Patricia caught this, but said nothing. She watched as he locked the car.

“No wonder you worried about getting raped all the time,” he said.

“Kept me on my toes, that’s for sure,” Patricia said, and smiled. “But I’ve got Josie now,” she said, and patted the tote bag hanging at her side.

“Can I give you some advice?” Ollie asked. “Man to man?”

“Man to man, sure,” she said.

“There used to be a time when the shield and the gun meant something. You flashed the tin, you pulled the gun, it meant something. Which building?” he asked, and offered his arm.

“You gonna walk me home?” she asked, looking surprised. “Gee.”

“If I lived here,” Ollie said, “I’d even walk myself home.”

Patricia laughed.

“I’m used to it,” she said.

“That’s because you still think the shield and the gun mean something. They don’t, Patricia. You flash the buzzer nowadays, it’s an invitation for some punk to shoot you. You pull your Glock, that’s only telling some punk to show you his bigger AK-47. We’re outnumbered and outgunned, Patricia, and there’s too much money to be made in dope. So don’t count on Josie,ever, and don’t count on your shield, either.”

“What should I count on, Oll?”

“This,” he said, and tapped his temple with the forefinger of his right hand. “We’re smarter than any of them. That’s all you have to remember.”

“But throw back your jacket and show the weapon, anyway, right?” she said knowingly.

“With some of them, it still works,” he said.

“Admit it,” she said.

“Okay, it still works sometimes.”

“Who’s Steve?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Who’s Steve?”

They were walking up the concrete path to her red brick building. Some teenage boys and girls were sitting on the stoop, under a lamp swarming with the first insects of the season. One of the boys seemed about to say something, either to Patricia about her splendid tits or Ollie about his splendid girth, but he spotted the Glock and cooled it. Ollie gave him a look that said Wise decision, lad, and walked Patricia into the hallway. In this city, especially on Hamp Bull, too many bad things happened in hallways.

The tiled walls were covered with graffiti.

So were the elevator doors.

“Would you like to come up for a while?” she asked.

“Thanks, no, it’s late,” he said.

“I had a wonderful time,” she said.

“So did I, Patricia.”

She looked into his eyes. Her face seemed suddenly forlorn.

“Will I ever see you again?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” he said, genuinely surprised. “Why not?”

“Well,” she said, and shrugged, and then opened her hands wide to indicate the building and the hallway and the graffiti. “This,” she said.

“Where you live is where you live,” he said, and shrugged.

The elevator door slid open.

The elevator was empty.

Ollie put his foot against the door to hold it.

“Well, thanks again,” Patricia said, and took his hand, and then reached up to kiss him on the cheek, surprising him again.

“Listen, what are you doing Tuesday night?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

“Wanna go see a movie?”

“Sure.” She was still holding his hand. “Will you know ‘Spanish Eyes’ by then?”

“I don’t think so. I won’t be able to ask Helen for the sheet music till Monday. My piano teacher. That’s when I have my piano lesson. Monday nights.”

“Remember, it’s the Al Martino one.”

“I’ll remember. Patricia…?”

“Yes?”

“I really did have a very nice time tonight.”

“I did, too.”

“So I’ll see you Tuesday, okay? Are you working Tuesday?”

“Yes. The day shift.”

“Me, too. So maybe we could go straight from the precinct…”

“That sounds good…”

“Grab something to eat…”

“Okay. But nothing fancy like tonight.”

“No, just a hamburger or something.”

“Okay.”