Hard Candy

120

I LEFT Morehouse's car on Remsen Street, where it was legal to park with NYP plates. Max and I walked the rest of the way.

The same young man we saw the first time let us in. No karate outfit this time. The chairs were already in place in the top-floor room.

"My brother will wait outside, with your permission. I don't think anyone needs to hear this."

His eyes were a bright blue. "My staff has rather strong feelings about me…about my safety."

"You're safe with me. Sometimes it's safer to talk privately."

"The last time we talked. About security. You said something about me having to leave this place sometime. It seems to me that you're already back inside."

"I'm a businessman, not a kamikaze."

"Very well."

Max stepped outside. We were alone. I rotated my head on the column of my neck. To get the kinks out, break the adhesions. And look around. Glass brick ran in a long loop around the top of the room. I had to play it like they were listening- walk the tightrope.

I lit a smoke. "You have enemies. Personal enemies. I think that's part of the cost of doing business for you. That wouldn't frighten you."

"You think I'm frightened?"

"Concerned, okay? Intelligently concerned. About a problem you have. I think one of your personal enemies realized his impotence. And went to a professional. I don't think your security questions were academic."

"Are you guessing about all of this?"

"No."

The blue eyes honed in. That was his wake-up call. "Are you…involved?"

"Not yet. I thought I might be. If we can do business.

"I'm not certain I understand."

"You have a sweet business here. Making wine out of rotten fruit, that's a technique. I admire your insight, your skill."

He bowed slightly, waiting.

"The way it works, you cruise the streets. Look for old furniture that people throw out on the sidewalk. Then you refinish the furniture, remodel it, paint it. You sell the furniture to people who want that kind of stuff in their houses. And it's all profit. Garbage into gold. Dirt into diamonds. Why should anybody be mad?"

"Indeed."

"Once in a while…not too often…somebody wishes they had their furniture back. But you've got this rule- you won't sell it back to anyone who put it out on the curb in the first place."

"They threw it away. It's not theirs."

"Yes. You're a street-cleaner. A scavenger. But you know how people are- they never miss water until the well runs dry."

"You're a perceptive man. I believe we…I misjudged you."

"That happens. You have resources, you can ask questions. You know when the truth is around. When it isn't."

"Yes?"

"The truth is around. Here. Now. One of these people who discarded his furniture, he wanted it back. There was a disagreement of some sort. But this individual, he couldn't go to the authorities. The law's on your side. Once you throw garbage out at the curb, it belongs to anyone who picks it up."

He bowed again. Just a slight movement of his head.

"So this individual, he goes outside the law. To a professional. Somebody wants you. And by now you know it isn't me.

"You came for Elvira."

"And I returned her."

"She told you some things…"

"And I brought her back to you. I'm not the man who's looking for you."

"No? Then what are you?"

"I'm the man you're looking for."

"How so?"

"Every profession has competition. You have your work, I have mine. I wouldn't know your competitors, you wouldn't know mine. You thought I was here for a particular reason. You were wrong. But someone is out there. For you. Someone I can deal with."

He made a slight "keep talking" move with one hand.

"I have two professions," I told him. "One of them is finding people. I can find this person."

"And then?"

"My other profession."

"And what of my profession?"

"That's your business. It seems you could use a man like me."

"I have people."

"You have children."

His eyes locked in. "My children."

"Children deserve protection."

"Yes. I must do what is best for my children. Anything else would be immoral."

"Morality can be costly."

"Whatever…"

"Very costly."

"Yes?"

"Fifty thousand."

"All right." Unfazed. "I assume you want some sort of…preliminary payment."

"It's not necessary.

"I'm not familiar with these things. I just thought…"

"I know where to find you. After it's done."

"How would I know?"

"I'll bring the proof. If you're not satisfied, there's no charge." He stroked his face, pretending to think about it.

"It's for the children," I said.

"Yes. I have no choice. My obligations. You won't mind if I check…?"

I nodded, knowing what he meant. It didn't matter. Wesley had his work and I had mine. And I was back to it. The day I couldn't scam dirtbags, I'd go straight.

I didn't see the signal. Reba came into the room. A white silk robe with a hood, white sash around her waist. Nothing else. She sat next to me on my left, hooking one thigh over my legs, pulling the robe around her shoulder like she was cold. Her hand found my heart.

Train gazed at the ceiling. His voice went thin, dry-washing his hands.

"Is someone looking for me?"

"Yes."

"To hurt me?"

"Yes."

"You know who it is?"

"Yes."

"You could stop him?"

"Yes."

"Could I stop him?"

"No."

"Would he take money?"

"No."

Reba's hand shifted, shielded by the robe. Fingers trailed across my cock. She wiggled her butt like she was trying to get comfortable. I couldn't see her face.

"Are you the man who is looking for me?"

"No."

"Do you believe Elvira is safe here?"

"Yes."

Reba's hand cupped my balls. A gentle squeeze. Her thumb stroked my cock. It stirred. Stiffened.

"Are you working for Elvira's mother?"

"No."

"Did you ever?"

"When I brought the girl back to her."

"The man who's looking for me…is he for hire?"

"Yes."

Reba ran two knuckles of her hand up and down the shaft of my cock. Found the tip with her fingers. Squeezed. It was a piece of steel, threatening the zipper.

"But not by me?"

"Not now."

"Because he's already taken someone else's money?"

"Yes."

"Do you know whose money?"

"No."

"How would he come for me?"

"By fire."

He nodded. Reba slid off me, gathering her robe, whispering, "It's all the truth." I crossed my legs as I reached into my coat for a smoke. Lit it, waiting. Reba padded out of the room.

"You'll tell me when it's done?" he asked.

"I'll show you."

Max was outside, standing alone.