step.
“I seen dudes in parachute school make a two-story jump,” he said. “Hit and roll, they said. You think you could do that?”
I turned my head to look down on the parking lot. I could see Ruby standing at the outer edge, looking up at me.
“Three nights ago,” the Gator’s Blood said with my lips, “a young man named Evander Noon came here. That was the last time anyone saw him. I’ve come to find out where he went next.”
“Niggah, didn’t you hear me?” Big Boy said.
“Evander is a young brother,” my voice continued. “Maybe twenty. I have a picture.”
“One more word and I’ma throw you down on the asphalt.”
“Okay,” I said, suddenly relenting. I even took half a step down. “He’s not my friend anyway. I came here for somebody else—Raymond Alexander. Maybe you heard’a him. People like to call him Mouse.”
That was cheating. I didn’t usually use Raymond’s name to get into, or out of, trouble. But the fact was that I’d have to call Ray if the bouncer didn’t let me in. And then Big Boy would have been the one who plummeted down to the ground.
“Say what?” the man asked.
“No lie, man. Ray called me to go find his friend’s son. I’m a detective.”
“Shit.”
I handed him my ID.
“Raymond paid me to find out where the boy was last. Now, if you don’t let me in then I’ll have to tell him that the trail ends right up here—at your big toe.”
He studied the picture and pondered the ramifications. Then he handed the ID back.
“Mouse, huh?”
Ray was known in every illegal corner of Los Angeles, and most of the rest of Southern California.
“Wait here,” the man I dubbed Big Boy said at last.
He went through a red door beyond the yellow chair and closed it behind him. I heard a bolt being thrown and smiled, because that meant he was taking me seriously.
I couldn’t see Ruby anymore. I wondered if she decided to leave. Her unexpected absence got me thinking about Bonnie Shay. She was getting married. She was with her man. I wasn’t devastated or heartbroken because of my close encounter with death, but there was still sadness there, a melancholy that said no matter how hard I tried I’d never be able to hold on to the happiness I craved.
“Come on,” Big Boy said at the door.
I hadn’t even heard it open.
A black woman in a green-and-gold kimono sat behind an ivory-colored table in the small reception area. Looking down, I could see her well-formed breasts. Her eyes were dead but she smiled pleasantly enough.
This emotional juxtaposition made me feel right at home.
“Come on,” Big Boy said again.
He led me down a long hallway with open doors on either side.
In most of the rooms men and women were having commercialized sex. Nothing looked good or fun. There was a lot of grunting and pounding, urging and gyration. The whorehouse was in full swing while free love raged in the street below.
We came at last to a closed door. This Big Boy threw open. He stepped to the side, but the hall was so narrow that I had to squeeze by him. As I passed I could feel his hot breath. This made me think of Ruby talking to me on the Strip. I hoped that she’d be out there when I left.
There were three lamps on in the low room, but mere electric light had failed to illuminate the darkness. The office was furnished with a desk, two thin-legged doelike chairs, and a soiled tan sofa.
Big Boy took one of the chairs and placed it in a corner, where hesat down to keep an eye on me. A white woman, naked except for a turquoise feather boa around her neck, lounged on the vinyl couch. When I came in she lifted her left foot up on the cushion, displaying her pubic area like a beggar exposing his war wound.
Behind the desk sat a well-worn, fortyish white woman with dyed red hair and two blue eyes, one wandering and the other fastened on me.
“Lula Success,” she said, not rising, not holding out a hand.
“Easy Rawlins,” I said.
“That your real
“I seen dudes in parachute school make a two-story jump,” he said. “Hit and roll, they said. You think you could do that?”
I turned my head to look down on the parking lot. I could see Ruby standing at the outer edge, looking up at me.
“Three nights ago,” the Gator’s Blood said with my lips, “a young man named Evander Noon came here. That was the last time anyone saw him. I’ve come to find out where he went next.”
“Niggah, didn’t you hear me?” Big Boy said.
“Evander is a young brother,” my voice continued. “Maybe twenty. I have a picture.”
“One more word and I’ma throw you down on the asphalt.”
“Okay,” I said, suddenly relenting. I even took half a step down. “He’s not my friend anyway. I came here for somebody else—Raymond Alexander. Maybe you heard’a him. People like to call him Mouse.”
That was cheating. I didn’t usually use Raymond’s name to get into, or out of, trouble. But the fact was that I’d have to call Ray if the bouncer didn’t let me in. And then Big Boy would have been the one who plummeted down to the ground.
“Say what?” the man asked.
“No lie, man. Ray called me to go find his friend’s son. I’m a detective.”
“Shit.”
I handed him my ID.
“Raymond paid me to find out where the boy was last. Now, if you don’t let me in then I’ll have to tell him that the trail ends right up here—at your big toe.”
He studied the picture and pondered the ramifications. Then he handed the ID back.
“Mouse, huh?”
Ray was known in every illegal corner of Los Angeles, and most of the rest of Southern California.
“Wait here,” the man I dubbed Big Boy said at last.
He went through a red door beyond the yellow chair and closed it behind him. I heard a bolt being thrown and smiled, because that meant he was taking me seriously.
I couldn’t see Ruby anymore. I wondered if she decided to leave. Her unexpected absence got me thinking about Bonnie Shay. She was getting married. She was with her man. I wasn’t devastated or heartbroken because of my close encounter with death, but there was still sadness there, a melancholy that said no matter how hard I tried I’d never be able to hold on to the happiness I craved.
“Come on,” Big Boy said at the door.
I hadn’t even heard it open.
A black woman in a green-and-gold kimono sat behind an ivory-colored table in the small reception area. Looking down, I could see her well-formed breasts. Her eyes were dead but she smiled pleasantly enough.
This emotional juxtaposition made me feel right at home.
“Come on,” Big Boy said again.
He led me down a long hallway with open doors on either side.
In most of the rooms men and women were having commercialized sex. Nothing looked good or fun. There was a lot of grunting and pounding, urging and gyration. The whorehouse was in full swing while free love raged in the street below.
We came at last to a closed door. This Big Boy threw open. He stepped to the side, but the hall was so narrow that I had to squeeze by him. As I passed I could feel his hot breath. This made me think of Ruby talking to me on the Strip. I hoped that she’d be out there when I left.
There were three lamps on in the low room, but mere electric light had failed to illuminate the darkness. The office was furnished with a desk, two thin-legged doelike chairs, and a soiled tan sofa.
Big Boy took one of the chairs and placed it in a corner, where hesat down to keep an eye on me. A white woman, naked except for a turquoise feather boa around her neck, lounged on the vinyl couch. When I came in she lifted her left foot up on the cushion, displaying her pubic area like a beggar exposing his war wound.
Behind the desk sat a well-worn, fortyish white woman with dyed red hair and two blue eyes, one wandering and the other fastened on me.
“Lula Success,” she said, not rising, not holding out a hand.
“Easy Rawlins,” I said.
“That your real
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