in.”
“Let me get a plate,” I said. “I’ll join you.”
I walked up to the counter just as Mrs. Lee was turning around from the window into the kitchen with a scowl on her face.
“Gweat,” she said, pointing to Lonnie. “Fust him, now you. You two give my prace a bad name. Too many car wepossess—” She stumbled. “Car we—”
“Now why would car repossessors give your place a bad name?”
“This neighborhood,” she barked. “People afraid to come heah. Think you pick they cars up.”
“Now, darling, that says more about the neighborhood than it does about us, doesn’t it?”
She half smiled at me. “Smaht-butt. What you want tonight? Let me guess. Szechuan chicken.”
“Unless you’re sold out.”
“Hah!” She turned to the window and yelled something to her husband in rapid-fire Chinese. At least I think that’s what it was; for all I knew, it could have been Venusian.
I laid my twenty on the counter and turned back to the tables. Lonnie had a folded afternoon newspaper held out in front of him as he ate absentmindedly. Istood there a moment, waiting. It’d been a roller-coaster ride of a day, and I was glad it was nearly over.
“Heah you go, mistah investigatah,” Mrs. Lee said, sliding the white Styrofoam plate across the counter to me. She grabbed the twenty and returned sixteen bucks in change. One of the things I loved about Mrs. Lee’s was you got more food than anyone could possibly eat for four dollars.
“How’s Mary?” I asked, gathering up little packs of soy sauce and a plastic fork.
“You doan worry about Mary,” she instructed. “Mary not you problem.”
Mary was Mrs. Lee’s high-school-senior daughter; gorgeous, honor student, sweet, untouched. Hell, I’d keep her away from me, too. I’d tried over the last couple of years not to let my affection and admiration for her grow into anything more inappropriate than necessary.
“Tell her I said hi.”
I walked over to the table and slid down in front of Lonnie. He put down the newspaper and folded his arms across his chest. I raked up a forkful of rice, steaming vegetables, and chicken laced with red peppers and hot oil. As soon as it hit my mouth everything was right in the world, at least temporarily.
“So what’s happening, dude?”
“Well,” I snarfled, mouth full of food, “let’s see. My girlfriend’s a hostage, my bank account’s empty, my clients won’t pay me. On top of that, I don’t know where the rent’s coming from next month on either my apartment or my office. Otherwise, life’s just a regular hoot and a holler.”
“You know, Harry,” Lonnie drawled, “you’re getting to have a regular attitude problem.”
“I really am worried about her,” I said, real serious and low. “Kinda weird.”
“Talking about it all the time ain’t going to do any good.”
“You remind me of when I was a kid and I’d fall down and bust a knee open or something and my father would say, ‘Don’t cry.’ And I’d say, ‘But, Daddy, it hurts,’ and he’d say, ‘Well, just don’t feel it, son.’ Just don’t feel it.”
“Good advice, you ask me.”
A piece of a red chili pepper hit the back of my throat, a feeling I’d imagine was comparable only to accidentally swallowing a hot cigarette ash. I started choking and reached for the glass of ice water. Sweat broke out over my upper lip.
“Say,” I said when I’d recovered my composure, “you haven’t got a car or two I can pick up, have you? I could use the quick cash.”
“I lost the bank,” Lonnie said quietly.
I stared at him. “What do you mean, you lost the bank? Who loses a bank?”
“Asshole, I didn’t mean I
lost
it, lost it. I meant they’re not my clients anymore.”
I set my fork down in my plate. The Nashville Merchants Bank had been Lonnie’s main customer for years. He’d repossessed maybe three thousand cars for them.
“What happened?”
“They were bought by that bank in Virginia.”
“Oh
“Let me get a plate,” I said. “I’ll join you.”
I walked up to the counter just as Mrs. Lee was turning around from the window into the kitchen with a scowl on her face.
“Gweat,” she said, pointing to Lonnie. “Fust him, now you. You two give my prace a bad name. Too many car wepossess—” She stumbled. “Car we—”
“Now why would car repossessors give your place a bad name?”
“This neighborhood,” she barked. “People afraid to come heah. Think you pick they cars up.”
“Now, darling, that says more about the neighborhood than it does about us, doesn’t it?”
She half smiled at me. “Smaht-butt. What you want tonight? Let me guess. Szechuan chicken.”
“Unless you’re sold out.”
“Hah!” She turned to the window and yelled something to her husband in rapid-fire Chinese. At least I think that’s what it was; for all I knew, it could have been Venusian.
I laid my twenty on the counter and turned back to the tables. Lonnie had a folded afternoon newspaper held out in front of him as he ate absentmindedly. Istood there a moment, waiting. It’d been a roller-coaster ride of a day, and I was glad it was nearly over.
“Heah you go, mistah investigatah,” Mrs. Lee said, sliding the white Styrofoam plate across the counter to me. She grabbed the twenty and returned sixteen bucks in change. One of the things I loved about Mrs. Lee’s was you got more food than anyone could possibly eat for four dollars.
“How’s Mary?” I asked, gathering up little packs of soy sauce and a plastic fork.
“You doan worry about Mary,” she instructed. “Mary not you problem.”
Mary was Mrs. Lee’s high-school-senior daughter; gorgeous, honor student, sweet, untouched. Hell, I’d keep her away from me, too. I’d tried over the last couple of years not to let my affection and admiration for her grow into anything more inappropriate than necessary.
“Tell her I said hi.”
I walked over to the table and slid down in front of Lonnie. He put down the newspaper and folded his arms across his chest. I raked up a forkful of rice, steaming vegetables, and chicken laced with red peppers and hot oil. As soon as it hit my mouth everything was right in the world, at least temporarily.
“So what’s happening, dude?”
“Well,” I snarfled, mouth full of food, “let’s see. My girlfriend’s a hostage, my bank account’s empty, my clients won’t pay me. On top of that, I don’t know where the rent’s coming from next month on either my apartment or my office. Otherwise, life’s just a regular hoot and a holler.”
“You know, Harry,” Lonnie drawled, “you’re getting to have a regular attitude problem.”
“I really am worried about her,” I said, real serious and low. “Kinda weird.”
“Talking about it all the time ain’t going to do any good.”
“You remind me of when I was a kid and I’d fall down and bust a knee open or something and my father would say, ‘Don’t cry.’ And I’d say, ‘But, Daddy, it hurts,’ and he’d say, ‘Well, just don’t feel it, son.’ Just don’t feel it.”
“Good advice, you ask me.”
A piece of a red chili pepper hit the back of my throat, a feeling I’d imagine was comparable only to accidentally swallowing a hot cigarette ash. I started choking and reached for the glass of ice water. Sweat broke out over my upper lip.
“Say,” I said when I’d recovered my composure, “you haven’t got a car or two I can pick up, have you? I could use the quick cash.”
“I lost the bank,” Lonnie said quietly.
I stared at him. “What do you mean, you lost the bank? Who loses a bank?”
“Asshole, I didn’t mean I
lost
it, lost it. I meant they’re not my clients anymore.”
I set my fork down in my plate. The Nashville Merchants Bank had been Lonnie’s main customer for years. He’d repossessed maybe three thousand cars for them.
“What happened?”
“They were bought by that bank in Virginia.”
“Oh
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