Robert B. Parker’s Damned If You Do

57

Jesse pulled into the parking space in front of the footbridge that led to his house. He spotted Fat Boy Nelly leaning against the stanchion at the entrance to the bridge, watching the progress of a pair of sailing skiffs as they raced across the bay.

Nelly was wearing a vintage Miami Dolphins jersey, number thirteen, the name Marino embroidered on the back. His oversized jeans and unlaced Nikes were the same as always. He looked up when Jesse got out of his cruiser.

“I read the papers,” he said.

“I bet you were looking for your name.”

“It wasn’t there. Why’s that, you suppose?”

“Maybe no one saw you at the mall.”

“That’s funny, I could’ve sworn somebody saw me there.”

“I guess not.”

Nelly didn’t say anything.

“You want to come in,” Jesse said.

“Nah. I just come by to finish what’s unfinished.”

“Meaning?”

“Why did you yell ‘Don’t shoot’?”

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“It was because of Clarice, wasn’t it?”

Jesse remained silent.

“I knew that’s what it was. I saw it in your eyes after. Man, I’m sorry.”

“Unintended consequences,” Jesse said.

“It was strictly business, you know.”

“I know.”

“I ’preciate you not sayin’ my name,” Nelly said.

“I appreciate you having my back.”

“You do?”

“I looked for you,” Jesse said. “Never could see you, though.”

Nelly smiled.

“I’m very good at hiding myself,” he said.

“Strange,” Jesse said.

“What’s strange?”

“It felt good knowing you were out there. I got a particular jolt when you winked at me as I was dealing with that bodyguard.”

“Yeah. I liked that, too.”

They stood silently for a while.

“So what’s next,” Jesse said.

“For Nelly?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll lay low for a while. Let this shit cool down. Then I’m gonna go have me a sit-down with Mr. Gino Fish.”

“One he’s expecting, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” Nelly said. “I’m planning to surprise him, though.”

“How?”

“I bought me a whole new wardrobe. Armani suits. Silk ties. English shirts. Italian shoes. The whole deal. I hate to admit to it, but I’ve even signed up for Weight Watchers. Gino gonna shit when he see me.”

“Lovely image,” Jesse said.

“You want to be a executive, you have to dress the part.”

Jesse smiled.

“Tone down the rhetoric, too.”

“Meaning?”

“I still have to talk the street talk, you know, but now I have to talk the white talk, too.”

Jesse looked at him.

“I plan to take my place at the table. Metaphorically speaking, that is.”

“Metaphorically?”

Nelly grinned.

“The table signifies the white world. The less threatening I appear to that world, the more receptive it’ll be to me.”

“Hence the Armani.”

“Exactly.”

“And the diet.”

“I’m gonna give it a shot.”

“Smart move.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Send me a photo,” Jesse said.

“We be friends,” Nelly said.

“Odd, isn’t it?”

“That we be friends?”

Jesse nodded. He extended his hand. Nelly took it.

“Good luck, Nelly.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You, too.”