The Weight - By Andrew Vachss Page 0,72

stationery, said she was an interior decorator. It was even notarized. And I had a Florida driver’s license, too. With my picture on it.

“This is better than perfect. Thanks.”

“Hold on. First off, you understand that we’re still in Leon County, but just barely?”

“Huh?”

“Ah, I mean, it’s probably forty-five minutes to get into the parts of Tallahassee you’re looking for.”

“Okay, so how do I—?”

“See these buttons on the key fob? The yellow one turns off the sensors at the front. Always hit it before you go between those stone pillars. The red one opens the garage door. It’s pretty long-range—you don’t have to be close for it to work. The door’ll be open; you just drive in. Press the red one again and the door closes behind you.”

I nodded to tell her I got what she was saying.

“Good. Now take a look at this,” she said.

It was just a drawing of the dashboard, black-and-white except for one big green button.

“You push that button and this screen here”—she tapped where she wanted me to look—“lights up like a big map. There’ll be a thick red arrow, like one of those ‘You Are Here’ signs at the mall. It’s preset. So, no matter where you end up, just tap that button again. All you have to do is follow the arrow, and you’ll get right back here. You don’t even have to look at it; there’s a voice that’ll tell you when to turn.”

“Damn!”

“In the trunk, there’s a lot of athletic equipment. Used equipment, years old. I’m pretty sure there’s a couple of baseball bats. One wood, one aluminum, if I remember right.”

“Okay.”

She handed me a black knife, the kind that you can open with your thumb. The top edge was all ridges, like a saw. “In case you get a hangnail or something.”

“Thank you.”

She put her hands behind her back. It didn’t look like she was showing off her chest that time; it looked like she wanted to make sure she didn’t touch me.

The new shoes were as comfortable as if I’d been wearing them for years. Black lace-ups with a one-piece sole and heel. The chinos had a tongue-and-groove thing in front. The light-blue T-shirt felt like silk. The jacket was a darker blue, made of some kind of fiber that would breathe. It only came to my waist, so I tucked in the T-shirt.

I don’t know much about cars, but I could tell the Lincoln had a real soft ride. I guess that’s why everyone uses them for the baby limos you see all over New York. They’re like cabs, only they don’t have meters and you’re not supposed to pick up passengers from the street, only off calls.

Three hours later, I still hadn’t even seen a place that looked right. I didn’t want to try the strip clubs yet—I figured I could run names past Rena and she’d be able to tell me something about them. Not what went on inside or anything, just their price range. I couldn’t see this Jessop going into a place where you’d look wrong without a suit and tie.

I tried four poolrooms, but they were more like singles bars than the kind of spot I could see this Jessop in. The tables were all different colors, waitresses walking around between them, everything lit up, music playing.

The last one, I figured maybe I’d stay around awhile, see if anyone came over to talk to me. I can shoot a little. Not great or anything, but I wouldn’t embarrass myself. If it cost me a few bucks to get some kind of lead, it’d be worth it.

I smelled them before they came up to me from behind, one on each side. A blonde in a yellow top, cut off just below her boobs. A Chinese girl—something like Chinese, anyway—with long black hair. She had on one of those outfits divers wear, only hers was red, and it zipped down the front. They must have used the same perfume.

The blonde kind of bumped me with her hip. I looked down at her.

“I made a bet with my girlfriend. Jasmine, that’s her. I’m Angel.”

I looked from one to the other.

“Your turn,” the Chinese girl said.

“Wilson,” I said.

“This is the bet,” the blonde said. “Jazzy is always saying she weighs exactly a hundred pounds. Does she look like she weighs a hundred pounds to you?”

“I’m no good at that. Guessing, I mean.”

“See?” the blonde said. “Didn’t I tell you?” She jabbed her finger into my left biceps, like

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