The Heartbreak Lounge by Wallace Stroby Page A

Bad. If they do, he just gonna go take it anyway, right?”
    â€œI only want what’s mine.”
    â€œLike everybody. And Joey gonna get it to you too, man. He don’t forget nothing.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œSo what you need? Some snaps to walk around with? Get your swerve on? ’Cause I can help you out with that.”
    He got up, went over to the filing cabinet, pulled out a drawer. There was a metal strongbox inside.
    â€œWe keep some petty cash in here, cover the betting money,” he said. “Not too much, though.”
    He opened the box, took out two bound bundles of cash, held them up, looked at Johnny.
    â€œâ€™Bout six hundred here I can spare,” he said. “That do it?”
    Johnny looked at him.
    â€œSix hundred?”
    Lindell didn’t answer.
    â€œYou know where I been the last seven years? And why?”
    Lindell lowered the money, shook his head, put it back in the box.
    â€œLike I said, man. It’s all I got right now. If you don’t want it—”
    â€œGive it here.”
    Lindell smiled, took out the bundles again. Johnny caught the first in midair, let the second fall into his lap.
    â€œJoey want to see you,” Lindell said. “He gave me the word. We gonna set it up for tomorrow. Tuesday at the latest. He happy you out. And I think he gonna have some good news for you.” He closed the box, pushed the drawer shut.
    Johnny thumbed through the money.
    â€œLet’s hope.” He put a bundle in each jacket pocket.
    â€œGet yourself some pussy yet?”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou want some, I hook you up. Fine sistas. Work your jimmy like to make your head spin.”
    â€œI’ll keep that in mind.”

    He got up.
    â€œListen, Johnny.”
    He stopped halfway to the door, looked back at Lindell.
    â€œI know you’re mad. About what happened and all down there. But Joey gonna make it up to you, man. I guarantee.”
    â€œGive me a number where I can reach you without getting jerked around.”
    Lindell took a business card from his jacket pocket.
    â€œMy cell, man,” he said. “Now you got the access.”
    Johnny took the card. It was blank except for a handwritten number.
    â€œI’ll call you tomorrow afternoon,” he said.
    â€œYou got it, bro. I have some word for you then.”
    Johnny turned and went back down the stairs. There was a lull in the fighting and the bettors watched him as he walked past. At the doorway to the anteroom, he turned and saw Lindell standing at the office window, looking down at him.
    Topcoat and the tall man were still outside. They watched as he walked to the Firebird.
    He was at the driver’s-side door, key in hand, when he saw movement in the jeep next to him. He turned, saw the rottweiler’s body laid out in the back, the blanket open, the kid sitting Indian fashion with the dog’s bloody head in his lap. The kid looked at him and Johnny saw tear lines running down his smooth face. Johnny held his glance for a moment, then turned away and got in the car.
    Â 
    Back at the motel, he sat on the edge of the narrow bed, pulled the phone into his lap. A sticker on the front of it said it belonged to a Best Western in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.
    He dialed the beeper. At the tone, he punched in the motel number, the pound sign and then the room number. He hung up, set the phone beside him on the bed, lay back. The ceiling was spotted with water stains, but there was no sound from the floors above or below. Besides the Korean man at the front desk, he had seen only two other people since he’d been here, both welfare residents. As far as he
knew, he was the only person on the floor. At night, he heard only the wind.
    The phone rang less than five minutes later. He put the receiver to his ear.
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œAbout time,” Connor said. “I was worried you hadn’t made it. This where you’re going to be