Road Dogs

TEN

"HE'LL BE HERE THE END OF NEXT WEEK," FOLEY SAID, "unless he decides to lay over in South Beach and go crazy."

"He won't," Dawn said. "He'll be here the day he's released." She said, "I'll call Little Jimmy in the morning, have him come by so you can see what he's like. I would've called him today if you hadn't seduced me." She said, "I'm starting to sound like you, aren't I? That's a compliment. What was it you said, we were plumbing our compatibility? I have to say, Jack, you could be a master plumber."

They were in bed, lying close to each other in the dark, the night of their first day together, worn out but not able to sleep. He said, "What do you mean I could be?"

"That's not important now," Dawn said. "The main thing is we've found each other."

He'd accept that. Without looking at the odds, or thinking about what-ifs, Dawn was right. They'd met and it was done, they'd found each other.

She was lying on her side facing him, her arm under the pillow. He could hear her breathing and wanted to see her eyes. He reached for the lighter on the nightstand and flicked it on and saw her eyes in the glow, waiting.

"You don't have any doubts about this."

She said, "None. As soon as I saw you I knew we could make it happen."

"Walk away with a score."

"In time. Once we know what we're after."

"He gets out," Foley said, "we won't see much of each other. You'll be with him."

She said, "Sleeping with him-that's what you're thinking. There's nothing I can do about it, we bide our time."

"We could take off tomorrow," Foley said. "Put the top down, drive all the way through Mexico, Guatemala, Nicaragua, we don't stop till we're in Costa Rica."

"I wait eight years of my life," Dawn said, "to steal a Volkswagen." She touched his face, brushed the tips of her fingers over his mouth. "You call him the little fella, your prison buddy you know you can't trust. He tells me he's invested money in you and wants me to put you to work. So I'm thinking you could come on as the true love of a woman who's dead husband is giving her a hard time."

"How's he do it?"

"Makes appearances."

Foley stared at her.

"I do this all the time, have psychic house parties for rich old broads, never more than six or eight at a time, two bills to find out about yourself or your past life, your yearnings, reconnect with deceased loved ones. I hypnotize skinny ones who aren't too old to enlarge their breasts."

"You can do that?"

"Through visualization techniques. I have them write on a piece of notepaper something they want more than anything in the world. I take the notes folded, I don't peek at what they wrote. I look at the ladies one at a time. Suzanne wants to stop smoking. Another one wants to lose weight-those are easy. The best kind of all, Danialle wishes her dead husband would stop bothering her."

"How'd you guess that?"

"I didn't guess, I knew who she was, an actress before her husband died. He was a film producer. I bring you in as the ghost expert. She immediately falls for you and that solves her problem." Dawn said, "Hmmm, that's not bad."

Foley said, "I know how to handle ghosts?"

"You're good with spirits, but let's stay with Cundo. I want to tell you how you feel about him. You know he's a shifty guy, but there's something about him you like, his confidence, the way he struts. It's why you don't feel good about ripping him off-especially if he won't know about it. We disappear in the night. But you think it's sneaky and you've never been a sneak. You're not even sure he'll try to hustle you, get you into some kind of action. Am I right?"

"It sounds right," Foley said.

"Is robbing a bank much different?"

"It's face-to-face."

"With the teller. 'Sweetheart, give me all your big bills, please.' Isn't that why you're there? For money. You're not robbing the bank because it's out to fuck up your life. Money, that's the only motive you need."

"You want me to look at this," Foley said, "like it's a job, that's all."

"Exactly."

"I get him before he puts me to work?"

"Before he comes up with a scheme to use you. It's why you're here, Jack, his houseguest."

It wasn't yet clear to Foley how they'd work the job or how much they were after; he was counting on Dawn for the details. Getting his motive straightened out and what Dawn said about finding each other, that was enough for right now. The only other thing on Foley's mind:

"The one who's gonna fall in love with me-what was her name in the movies?"

"Danialle Tynan."

"Yeah? I've seen her. She wasn't bad."

In the morning Foley came off the roof with Cundo's binoculars, down to the kitchen where Dawn was putting bread in the toaster. She glanced at him. "You know who you're looking for?" "Strangers," Foley said.

She said, "Aren't they all strangers?" Dawn wearing a navy T-shirt with born to howl reversed across the front, the message the same color as her little white undies, Dawn's around-the-house costume, turning him on as she fixed breakfast.

"I was hoping," Foley said, "I might see a guy with a haircut wearing a Brooks Brothers suit and tie strolling along the canal. It would get my attention."

She said, "He can't be working alone. I haven't thought about it, but I'll turn my magic on it if you want."

"I try to think like Lou Adams," Foley said. "If he can't raise a posse of feds, who does he get to help him?"

"Bad guys," Dawn said.

"That's what I came to, offenders he can lean on. Felons, threaten to bust 'em for strolling without a destination."

Dawn said, looking to see if the bread was toasted enough,

"We have all kinds of boys in the hood living in Venice. Go over to the Oakwood Recreation Center, you can buy dope on the basketball court. The police just had a big raid there the other day, took a bunch of boys in."

"That's where you get your grass?"

"I have it delivered."

"I saw a guy," Foley said, "a Latino I took to be a gangbanger, except he's wearing a purple scarf tied on his head, a do-rag, and I thought, Purple, that's a mix of gang colors, red for the Bloods, blue for the Crips, the guy showing he's not partial to either one. I saw him in the alley, he's talking to some black kids, teenagers, and he's Latino. You understand what I'm saying? He's jiving these kids, messing with them and they think he's funny, they're all laughing. I'm wondering what's going on? They're suppose to be bustin' caps at each other."

Dawn flipped up the toast, black, smoking, and threw it in the trash. She said, "He might be an intervention worker."

"What do they do?"

"Act like they're settling gang problems. They love the attention."

"This morning," Foley said, "I saw the same guy coming along the walk by the canal. He stopped to talk to the maid next door, in the glass house."

"It's my favorite," Dawn said. "The house is thirty feet wide and has a lap pool inside." She put two more slices of bread in the toaster. "You saw the Latin guy talking to the maid. Then later you went over and asked her who he was."

"I said I thought I knew him but wasn't sure. She said his name's Vincent, but here he's called Tico."

"Because he's from Costa Rica," Dawn said.

"You must've got a message from the spirit world. You hear a voice saying, 'Hey, Dawn? In case you didn't know it, guys in

Costa Rica are called Tico and the women Tica. You might be able to use it when you're being psychic.'»

She said, "You know, I've never been to Costa Rica? I must have read about the Ticos and Ticas and stored it away. My poor head is crammed full of stuff, Jack, normal and paranormal all bunched together. I have to stop and think sometimes, where in the world did that come from?" She turned to the toaster saying, "So now you'll be watching for Tico from Costa Rica."

"If I see him again," Foley said, "I'll have a word with him."

He watched her flip up the toast, not quite as burnt as the first two, and look past her shoulder at him.

"You like your toast a little dark?"

Foley said, "Thanks, I'll make my own."

He was on the roof when the Bentley arrived, Foley wanting to have a look at Little Jimmy Rios before meeting him face-to-face. He watched the car pull up behind the garage. Watched a guy he took to be the bodyguard, a slim Latino in sunglasses, come out of the car and look around before opening Little Jimmy's door. Finally, there he was coming past the rear of the gunmetal gray Bentley.

Only it wasn't the Little Jimmy Foley was expecting. In the color shots from the past that Dawn showed him, Little Jimmy was Al Pacino playing Tony Montana in Scarface. Little Jimmy in a white suit, shirt collar spread open, dark hair like Tony's down on his forehead. Today's Little Jimmy was into another style, a dark suit cut slim and buttoned up, the shirt collar high and stiff, not anything like Tony's, the pants narrow all the way down to a pair of polished crocodile loafers with Cuban heels.

Foley had on a T-shirt, a pair of new Levi's that felt snug on him, and a pair of plain white Reeboks Adele had sent him more than a year ago. He reached the patio as Little Jimmy appeared, coming out of the walk that ran along the side of the house, Little Jimmy alone, the bodyguard left behind. Dawn was ready. She kissed Little Jimmy on the mouth and let her eyes melt on him before turning to Foley.

"Jack, this is my pal Little Jimmy, sometimes known as the Monk. Isn't he cute? Dyes his hair, but who doesn't. And this is Jack Foley, America's foremost bank robber, retired, who swears he'll never rob another one."

Where'd she get that? In Foley's mind he was through with banks, but had never sworn to it. He stepped toward Jimmy Rios, the little dude posing now, hands turned around on his hips, fingers behind him, his shoulders slumped in a casual way, nothing to prove. Foley decided to start off liking him. Why not?

He said, "Jimmy, Dawn showed me a picture of you, it was when you were still in Florida, and I said, 'Jesus Christ, it's Tony Montana.' " He watched Little Jimmy shake his head, tired of hearing it, but with a grin, so it was okay. He touched his hair, thick and black, parted and combed across his forehead and fixed with a tortoiseshell barrette behind his ear. Weird, but it didn't look bad on him. Foley said, "I imagine you got tired of being taken for Tony."

"You right. Listen," Jimmy said, "back then every guy I know thought he was Tony Montana. Even ones don't look like him want to sound like him. Tony says, 'All I got in this world are my balls and my word. I don't break them for nobody, choo understand?'»

Foley said, "You're him, man, you're Tony," and said, " 'Choo know I buried those cock-a-roaches.' How many times you see the picture?"

"I use to say more than twenty times. Maybe I did, I don't know, till we become tired of it. I quit when I ask myself, you serious? Why you want to sound like that punk? He's stupid, don't even know why he fucked up."

Dawn said she'd be pouring margaritas in the kitchen and left them. Little Jimmy watched her go in the house before turning to Foley.

"Talk to me about Cundo, how he's doing." "He's the same. You'll see him the end of next week." "Yes? How is his health?" "I've never heard him complain." "What is he say about me? I been a good boy?" "He's proud of you," Foley said, "that's why he looks out for you. You're his boy."

"That's what you think? I'm his boy?"

"I didn't say it, he did. Cundo said he let you take over the businesses and you're doing a terrific job."

"He looks out for me-he tole you that? He say he let me run the business? Like he knows any fucking thing about it?"

"If you're running the show," Foley said, "I hope he's paying you enough."

"You know how much he let me have, to live on?"

"No, I don't. But he probably knows you're skimming on him. If he hasn't said anything it must be he expects you're taking a certain cut, so it's okay. I know he respects you," Foley said. "He made sure I understood you're a hundred percent loyal and always do what you're told."

"Listen, the only thing he tole me," Little Jimmy said, "outside of pay his bills, I have to take a blood oath, man, I will never leave him or cheat him or steal his money."

"What kind of blood oath?"

"We make a cut in our hands, here, and press them together. Cundo say now we one, we family, I have to stay loyal to him always."

"What if you don't?"

"He says something will happen to me. I could be run over by a truck."

Or shot in the head, Foley thought, taking Little Jimmy through the house to the kitchen where Dawn was pouring martinis.

"My mind was changed for me," she said. "No tequila, no margaritas. So I made a pitcher of silver bullets, Little Jimmy's favorite cocktail, and for my new friend, Jack Foley, my first bank robber."

Little Jimmy said, "You mean your new lover, don't you? He hasn't done it to you by now he's mine," and raised his glass to Foley. "Satud."

Foley raised his. He watched Little Jimmy take a sip, smack his lips, slide the rest of the martini down and lower the glass, looking at Foley again.

"Your time with Cundo, you always live together?"

"We were in different housing," Foley said, "but we saw each other just about every day. Took walks around the yard."

"He needed someone and you were there."

"The only time I patted him on the ass," Foley said, "was to get him to jog, run around the yard. He said, 'For what? I weigh one hundred twenty-eight pounds all my fucking life.' " Foley said, "I want you to know Cundo and I were friends inside-"

"And you owe him thirty grand, he tole me you don't have to pay it back."

"More than thirty," Foley said. "But I won't ever tell him how you feel. You know why? I don't blame you."

"Yeah, he tole me to pay your lawyer. You know what else? Twenty-eight hundred to the hacks for favors. His five years at Starke I paid out almost ten grand for gifts. Two hundred dollars to a tailor at Glades. You believe it?"

"That's how it is," Foley said, "you're in the life and you don't pay up front for what you want? You don't get it. Cundo makes money inside selling juice and taking bets on the ball games. He makes it outside watching the real estate market, buying and selling homes," and thought Little Jimmy was having a stroke.

"You believe is his idea, a fucking go-go dancer? You think he knows anything of business, of real estate, different investment opportunities? No, with him is the sports book, the old guys working the phones. Is like he's back in Miami. I tell him on the phone how we doing. I say why don't we cut out being bookies? Stop trying to compete with Vegas and the online casinos, man. I tell him I think we should buy foreign stocks and watch the euro. I say, 'You like that idea?' You know what he say to me, very serious? 'You ever see a snake eat a bat?'»

"He sold blow to movie stars," Foley said. "Give him that."

"You know why they never took him to trial?"

"They didn't want to burn their snitch."

"Tha's what he tole you? No, they not gonna waste their time if all they getting is me. I'm the one making deliveries. I'm in the kitchen rolling joints while he's entertaining movie stars. Choo know something? Listen, they could have put me away, but who the fuck am I? Waste a good snitch on me? They don't have enough to convict Cundo, so they send him to Florida where he can do life or be electrocuted, what they were thinking."

"But he does seven and a half," Foley said, "and he's out next week."

He watched Little Jimmy shake his head. "Who you think found the girl lawyer? For a flat fifty-k win or lose?"

"Megan Norris," Foley said.

"Tha's the one. Megan, she offers what look like a cool deal, no trial. But I think it was to make sure he does time. She only pretend to like him."

"Hey, I had her too," Foley said. "She gets up in the morning she's out to win." He turned to Dawn and told her about Jimmy's blood oath to stay loyal to Cundo. "I asked him, 'What if you get tired of playing along? You decide to clean out the accounts and take off?'»

Dawn said, "He's afraid Cundo will come after him." "I'm not afraid he will," Little Jimmy said, "I know he will. He tole me."

Foley said, "What do you think he'd do?" "Kill me. What else you think?" "Jimmy's sure of it," Dawn said.

"He already kill six guys in his life," Jimmy said. "Wha's another one?"

"Six?" Foley said. "I thought he was only up to four."

"He was at Starke," Jimmy said, "he had two cons done for him. Set afire in their cells, burnt alive, man, they can't do nothing but scream."

"He told you that?"

"Who do you think paid the guys did it? Listen, everything he tole you he did? Was never him, was me."

"When he comes home," Foley said, "set him straight. You're doing all the work-tell him you want a raise."

"I'll talk to him," Dawn said to Jimmy. "If you feel you should be rewarded. You can't tell Cundo anything, you put it out there and it becomes his idea."

"He can read a bank statement," Little Jimmy said. "All he wants to know is how much money he's got."

Foley said, "You don't want to start out with the idea he's dumb-" and stopped, not sure if Dawn heard him:

Dawn with Jimmy now, her hand on his arm, Dawn saying, "Jimmy," in her quiet way, "you know Cundo loves you. It's why he expects you to be loyal to him. Think of how long you've been together, as close as brothers."

It stopped Foley. Where was she going with this?

"What I see him doing, Jimmy," Dawn said, "he's giving you the chance to be important in his life, to stay with him no matter what. I think you do owe him that."

Foley said, "You don't think Cundo owes Jimmy?"

Dawn stunned him with a look.

"Didn't I say I'd speak to Cundo? Maybe you weren't listening, Jack."

Man-a quiet, killer tone of voice.

"Why don't you just get him a raise," Foley said, "so he doesn't have to skim? I bet Jimmy knows Cundo better than we ever will, even reading minds."

They'd get into it good once Jimmy left, Foley sure of it.

They killed the pitcher of martinis and he took Jimmy out to the alley. The bodyguard didn't seem surprised to see him weaving, grinning as they put him in the Bentley. Foley asked the bodyguard how he was called.

The guy said, "Zorro."

He was slim, as old as Cundo.

Foley said, "Where's your sword?"

"I'm a different Zorro."

"Is that right?" Foley said. He saw the name came from this guy's narrow face with the look of a fox, the guy standing with his suit coat open, patient. Foley said, "I like Jimmy-I hope you're taking good care of him."

"Yes, of course," Zorro said.

"What do you pack, a Glock?"

"Sometime. Most time a Colt Python."

"That's a big gun."

"It gets respect."

"Jimmy puts you in situations?"

"Mr. Rios is careful, always. He knows to be responsible." "He gets ripped?"

"I take care of him. He don't do it often, except he's with Dawn, the bruja"

"You don't like her."

Zorro shrugged.

"But you respect Jimmy?"

"As long as he don't get sweet on me."

"I don't want anything to happen to him," Foley said. "He's crossing the street and gets run over."

"It won't happen," Zorro said. He took a cigarette from his shirt pocket. "So, you the bank robber, uh?"

Foley returned to the house with a glow-on and a bad feeling about Dawn. He'd ask her in a nice way why she turned soft on Jimmy and listen to her tone of voice: see if it was the one Adele and maybe all women used when they were looking down at you.

Dawn's advantage was her mystical gift she could spring on you, as a psychic and a medium too. She'd convince you she knew things about you from the past and could make up things in your future if she wanted. Put ghosts in your house if you didn't have any and charge you ten grand to get rid of them. Reverend Dawn scamming rich ladies. No, she'd tell you she was entertaining them. They felt the best they'd ever felt in their lives and would insist on paying her.

But disagree with her one time, she stings you without raising her voice.

Maybe you weren't listening, Jack.

What happened to We've found each other, Jack?

She was still in the kitchen, turning from the sink as he came in. Foley thinking that if she happened to use that other tone they had, like they're trying to be patient while explaining what she was doing with Little Jimmy-.

She said, "Do you still love me, Jack?"

He didn't see it coming. It stopped him and cleared his mind of accusations. He said, "I didn't understand what you were up to."

"I'm sorry, Jack. You know what I was afraid of? I thought, What if we got Jimmy too worked up, telling him he's the good guy and stupid Cundo doesn't know what he's doing. Jimmy could decide all of a sudden to clean out the accounts-you even suggested it-and make a run for it. If he did, where would that leave us?"

Foley said, "You're selling Cundo short."

"You're right," Dawn said, "he isn't stupid about pulling jobs. You mind my using that expression? I love it. We're gonna pull a job." She smiled but said right away, serious now, "Don't get me wrong, I'm not in this for thrills and chills, a new kind of adventure in my life." She said, "I've been thinking about this for a long long time," and smiled again. "Are you with me, Jack?"

Foley didn't answer. He'd been thinking she was with him.

"We started talking," Dawn said, "I couldn't believe it. You're the perfect guy for this, the dedicated pro."

It sounded better, but dedicated to what, going to jail?

"I hope you understand I see you in charge," Dawn said. "Whatever you say goes."

"Since you've never pulled a job?"

"Jack, don't make fun of me, all right?"

"I will if you stop reading my mind." Now Foley smiled, back in the game, feeling better about his partner. He said, "Jimmy's not ready yet, he has to work up his nerve. He skims and nothing happens, he thinks it's okay. But to go for broke, grab whatever he can put his hands on, now Little Jimmy's an outlaw, right up there with John Dillinger. He'll think about it until he sees there's no getting around it, he's gonna need help." Dawn said, "You think so?"

"If he doesn't see it," Foley said, "I'll point it out to him."