sex so doggone good.”
“That’s your wild ass.”
“You’re the best I’ve ever been with.”
“Yeah, you too.”
“Now I’m blushing.” Her smile was so broad. “Thanks.”
“You feel it, respond to touches, kisses, not a boring lover.”
She laughed. “Sex is only as good as the weakest partner.”
“Well, you’ve raised my game.”
On the dresser was the smoky money from her late-night hustle. We sexed each other every now and again, but I didn’t know her in a way that would allow me to form my lips to ask for a loan, not even for one of those smoky greenbacks, let alone fifteen thousand. Sex was shared, company shared, but when it came to money, that was a lot of people’s line in the sand.
I asked, “Know where I can get a burner?”
A burner was a gun. Hadn’t had one in years. Never thought I’d need another one.
Without questioning me she yawned and asked, “What you looking for?”
“Something easy to hide with a decent kick.”
“Something to stop a man or a mule?”
My fingers went to my fresh injury. “Both.”
She became silent. That made me uncomfortable.
I went on, “I know a couple people, but they can’t get what I need as fast as I need it.”
“Why not ask them then?”
“One’s dead. The other in jail.”
The other truth was that I was a felon. I didn’t have the right to bear arms anymore. I’d rather let Panther get me what I need instead of having to go out and get it. Too risky. And I knew she knew people. She worked at a strip club on the edges of Gardena and South Central and she had to know people with their ears to the streets, people who could find some heat.
I added, “I would check my connections at Back Biters, but I have to work this morning and nobody’s up in that joint until late in the evening. Kinda need something quick.”
Time leaned against the wall while I waited for her response. Outside of cheese grits and us pleasing each other, I didn’t really expect her to help me out; I was throwing a Hail Mary.
She evaluated my injury before she whispered, “I’ll ask around.”
Time sighed and moved, went wherever it had to go.
A while later I touched her face. “What you said, you know, about being lonely ...”
She took my hand. “It was nothing. Saw this documentary on Rita Hayworth yesterday. Four failed marriages, kids by two men, all the men she met either controlled her for money or just wanted her pussy, never found love, died of Alzheimer’s. Shit made me sad, that’s all.”
“Panther...”
She shushed me like she wanted me to stop before I said something stupid. She took my hand, kissed my fingers and my palm, told me she’d call if she could get me what I needed, then told me to have a good day. Part of me ached. We never shared tongues. Wasn’t that kind of party. Tongues were saved for lovers, everything else was open season. I knew the routine. Soap, clothes, cuff links, I did inventory and made sure I had everything I’d brought with me.
Panther’s soft voice followed me. “Only two kinds of trouble in the world. Love trouble. Money trouble. You don’t come across as a man with love problems. I’m going with the money trouble. Be careful, Driver. I don’t look good dressed in all black, not when I’m crying.”
I didn’t say anything. Didn’t think I was supposed to.
She ended her little speech with “Don’t get dead on me. You’re a nice guy.”
The thing about a young girl was if you talked to a young girl long enough you realized that she was a young girl. She might have a mature moment, but somewhere along the line she digressed into being concerned with shit you haven’t given a fuck about in the last twenty years.
Panther hadn’t done that yet.
Overnight bag in hand, dressed in a fresh black Italian suit, white shirt, rimless glasses, spit-shined shoes, I locked the door on my way out, pulled it tight and stepped into the cool air.
The morning was dull and gray, as overcast as my mind. Fog strolled the beach cities. Temperature right at fifty degrees, but would be close to seventy by noon. Pick a freeway or a surface street and traffic was already a bear with PMS. Head ached, and add to that ache my dehydration—side effects from going drink-for-drink with Miss Baklava Glue, then sipping on that JD at Rufus’s place, not to mention the lion and jackal—and I