Shame the Devil

THIRTY-THREE

All right, James,” said Dimitri Karras. “I need to call out some burgers.”

“Go ahead, man.”

“You wanna turn down that Luther first?”

“Yeah,” said Darnell, not turning his head from the sink. “Can’t think with that man bellowin’ and shit.”

“How much you need to think about to clean off a dish?” said James.

“Now you gonna take me for bad?” said Darnell. “Arabs and Jews be walkin’ down the street holdin’ hands the day I let a man wearin’ makeup talk to me like that.” Darnell laughed deeply.

“Aw, go ahead, Darnell.”

James Posten twirled his spatula and sang as he went to the box, cut the volume on the Luther Vandross by a notch. He patted Maria Juarez on the ass as he went by, and Maria turned and did the same to him. But it was a halfhearted step back from their usual kitchen play. Maria’s left arm was bruised from elbow to shoulder, and the pain was clear on her face.

“James?”

“Talk about it, Dimitri.”

“I got a bacon-cheddar, rare. I got provolone, well. And I got a plain, extra rare.”

“You want it bleedin’, huh?”

“Knock the horns off it and walk it through a warm room.”

Anna Wang entered the kitchen and pinched Karras on the arm as she passed.

“What’s happenin’, Anna?”

“Melvin’s at the bar reciting the entire eighteen-minute Isaac Hayes version of ‘By the Time I Get to Phoenix.’ He’s still on the intro. I needed a break.”

Anna went to Maria and kissed her on the cheek. “Nice presentation on the salad today, senora.”

“Thanks, Ann.”

“That’s senorita to you, girl,” said James. “‘Cause Maria looks young as one and pretty as one, too.”

“Okay, James. Can I just add, the burgers are coming out perfect?”

“Go on, girl,” said James, “get back to the dining room where you belong. We don’t need your kind around here, or your compliments.”

James smiled to himself as Anna left the kitchen. He turned to say something to Maria, but he saw her wince as she tried to pick up a bowl of lettuce and his smile turned to a frown.

Nick Stefanos walked into the kitchen after the rush. They were all glad to see him back after missing so many shifts. Karras had the feeling Stefanos had been avoiding him, though, the entire afternoon.

“Hey, Dimitri.”

“What?”

“Dan Boyle called. Remember his uncle he talked about, the cop who knew your father and my papou? ”

“Yeah?”

“He’s not doing so hot. They’ve got him in a nursing home, and Boyle says he’s failing. Boyle’s been talking to him about you and me, and he asked to see us. It would be a good thing to do. What do you think?”

“When?”

“Later this afternoon, after my shift.”

Karras shrugged. “I can do that. I’ll go home and shower and meet you back here in the bar.”

“Sounds good. Hey, you seen James out there on the floor? I got a live ticket with some hots on it and I need him.”

“He’s out by the basement stairs, talking to Ramon. They been gabbin’ about something for the last ten minutes. I’ll tell him to come on back.”

“Say, Nick…” said Karras as Stefanos left the kitchen.

Karras knew Stefanos had heard him. It was odd that he would just walk away.

Roberto Juarez came in around three o’clock and stood on the landing. He wore a white imitation-silk shirt under a thin leather jacket. He stared at Stefanos behind the bar without recognition or a smile. Stefanos went to the reach-through and told Maria that her husband had come to pick her up.

At the top of the basement stairs, Ramon went, “Tss,” and Roberto Juarez turned his head. Ramon connected his thumb to his forefinger and put them to his lips, miming an imaginary toke. Juarez grinned stupidly. Ramon went up to the landing, and Juarez followed him out the door.

A couple of minutes later, James Posten emerged from the kitchen dressed in his fox-head stole and carrying his jeweled walking stick. Stefanos watched him go to the front door, open it, and go outside.

James Posten walked down 8th. He said hello to a pool player named Mattie, who stood outside Athena’s, the neighborhood women’s bar, smoking a cigarette. He passed the riot-gated athletic-shoe store and turned the corner into the alley.

Ramon and Juarez were back in the alley, hitting a joint. James stopped for a moment to prop his walking stick against the brick wall and then kept striding toward Juarez. Juarez held the joint up in offering, pursed his lips, and made kissing sounds at James. Juarez smiled contemptuously at James, and when James reached him he threw a deep right into Roberto Juarez’s face. He aimed for the brick wall behind Juarez’s head, and the punch landed squarely and collapsed his nose.

Juarez screamed. Blood splashed out into the alley.

Juarez tried to cover up, but James Posten combinated to the same spot. Juarez’s nose had been pushed off to the side, and now it was just smashed cartilage and a loose flap of skin. Juarez went down to the alley floor moaning, tears streaming across his ugly face.

He reached out to Ramon, and Ramon laughed.

“Now you know what it feels like to get hit by a man,” said James very quietly. “Don’t even have a dream about takin’ your hand to your wife or your little girl again.”

James walked back to the head of the alley and picked up his walking stick. Ramon followed. They turned and headed down 8th Street, back toward the Spot.

“Where you learn that, Jame?” said Ramon.

“West Baltimore,” said James.

Maria was waiting by the service bar with Darnell when James and Ramon came back in. Anna Wang was sitting at the bar next to Karras, who was eating his lunch. Happy sat alone, working on a Manhattan. Stefanos was behind the stick, one foot up on the beer cooler.

They watched James give Maria a kiss. Five minutes later Roberto Juarez entered the Spot and stood on the landing. Blood covered his white shirt and smeared his face. His eyes were glassy, and he was having trouble standing up.

Happy turned his head, looked Juarez over, then turned back to his drink.

“James just took away everything that guy ever had,” said Stefanos.

“Someone ought to call an ambulance,” said Anna Wang, reaching for one of Stefanos’s cigarettes.

Karras nodded and cut into his chicken-fried steak.

Roberto Juarez reached a hand out to his wife. Maria’s eyes narrowed as she buttoned her cheap coat and raised her chin.

“You do that?” said Darnell to James.

“Sure did,” said James.

“Hard to believe a man wearin’ eyeliner could put a hurtin’ on another man like that.” Darnell looked admiringly at James. “You sure you tellin’ the truth?”

“ Got to tell the truth,” said James.

“An’ shame the devil,” said Maria Juarez.

She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. They watched her cross the barroom floor.

Dimitri Karras finished his lunch and drove his old BMW up into Northwest. He walked to his building at 15th and U. He took the elevator to the fifth floor, walked down the hall, and turned the corner to his apartment. Thomas Wilson stood outside of Karras’s door.

“Dimitri.”

“Thomas. What’re you doing here? Aren’t you working today?”

“I took the afternoon off. Needed to see you, man.”

“You sick or somethin’? Your eyes don’t look right.”

“Need to talk to you, Dimitri. Need to tell you somethin’ now and get it out quick. Don’t stop me while I’m talking, ’cause I might not ever have the courage to tell it again.”

Karras regarded Wilson curiously. Wilson’s gaze was level and true.

“Say it,” said Karras.

By the time he was done, Wilson was sobbing. Karras’s shoulders had sagged and there were tears welled in his animal eyes. His lip was trembling, and his fists were balled and shaking at his side.

“Dimitri,” said Thomas Wilson. “I am so sorry for what I’ve done.”

Karras screamed. Wilson stood passively as Karras leaped toward him.

He’s going to kill me now, thought Wilson. He was strangely relieved. It surprised him for a moment that he was not afraid.

Wilson saw a white blur in the dim hall light. He saw nothing, felt nothing after that.