Southern Cross

Chapter Twelve

Brazil was jittery and angry as he trotted under streetlights along Mulberry, worrying that he would find his BMW gone or vandalized. He was tempted to turn around and show up at West's house, demanding an explanation.

It was true that their relationship in Charlotte had been somewhat complicated by their differences. She was older and accomplished. She had power. Her personality was the opposite of his. But she had been his mentor when he worked the police beat for the paper and rode the streets at night as a volunteer cop. Those had been the best stories Brazil had ever written. They had won prizes and changed the way people thought. They had changed the way he thought, too.

He had decided to become a real cop, as his father had been, and West had given Brazil the courage. She had helped him and loved him even through fights that were violent storms. When they made up it was always unbelievable. Brazil could not think of her without reliving every taste and touch. He did not know why she had changed so abruptly, and when he had asked, she would not say. It was as if they had never been lovers or even close friends. He did not push because maybe his primal fear was true. He just wasn't worth it. No one in his life had ever made him feel he was. His father had died when Brazil was a boy and Brazil's mother did not love herself and wasn't capable of loving anyone. For a while, West had filled a terrible space in Brazil's life. He hated Jim. How dare Jim send her flowers.

Smoke ordered Sick, Beeper, Dog and Divinity to keep an eye on Weed and make sure he didn't try taking a detour that might screw up their plans for the night.* So the Pikes set out in Dog's '69 Pontiac Lemans, cruising dark stretches of West Gary looking unsuccessfully for any sign of the drunk little motherfucker.

'I'm thirsty,' Divinity said.

'Fucking yeah,' said Beeper.

'Come on, Dog. Let's see you do your trick,' Divinity said.

Dog didn't like being thought of as a dog that did tricks. He never said anything, though. He pretty much just went along and did what he was told.

'What flavor you want this time?' Dog asked.

'Lemme see,' Divinity considered. 'How about something ice, baby? Maybe Michelob Ice? I'm fucking sick of Bud and all that other shit you're always getting that tastes like piss. 'Sides, baby, ice got more spin in it. You know, makes your head go round and around.'

She thought she was very funny and just loved laughing with herself. Dog pulled into a 7-Eleven and used his fake ID to buy a second six-pack of Michelob Ice while Beeper and Sick caused a diversion by Beeper's pretending to slip on the floor and Sick's having to help him up as Divinity browsed shelves and tucked whatever she wanted inside her denim bag.

'I think we find him we have some fun,' Dog said as he peeled out of the parking lot and started thinking about Weed again. 'I don't like him." 'That's 'cause he paints, baby, and you can't do a fucking thing,' Divinity said.

Dog felt himself get meaner. 'He needs to learn about life,' Dog said. "Bout showing respect.'

'You go about making him show respect and Smoke's gonna tear your ass off and feed it to a pit bull,' Divinity said as she sipped her beer.

Tuck Smoke.' Dog turned back onto West Gary Street. 'I'm not fucking afraid of him.'

It wasn't true. Dog hadn't been Dog until last Christmas when he'd just turned fifteen and was shopping around for a little crack and ran into Divinity and Smoke at the mall on Chimborazo Boulevard. Smoke sold Dog a couple rocks and then pulled a pistol and stole the rocks back and kept Dog's money.

'Hey, gimme my money if you ain't giving me the rocks,' Dog told him.

'Not unless you earn it,' Smoke said.

Smoke talked Dog into robbing some woman at gunpoint downtown near the Monroe Building. Dog turned over forty-seven dollars to Smoke. Dog would never forget what Smoke said to him next.

'Now you're mine. I own you.' He pointed his Clock between Dog's eyes. 'You're my slave. Know why?'

Dog said he didn't.

'Because you ain't got shit in life. You go home to shit. You've got shit for brains. You're so fucking shitting stupid you came out here buying crack and robbed some poor old lady, probably gave her a heart attack. That could be murder if she dies. I might just have to tell the po-lice.'

'You can't.' Dog was so confused. 'But you can't do that.'

Smoke started laughing at Dog and Divinity joined in. Dog was named Dog and became a Pike. He started cutting school so much he got suspended all the time, which gave him permission to keep cutting school, which was kind of confusing, to him. So much was confusing, and whenever Dog questioned and maybe said he didn't want to rob nobody else or break into another car or restaurant, Smoke got in his bad way.

He knew how to hurt Dog and make Dog scared for his life. Smoke didn't mind killing. Dog had seen Smoke run over animals on purpose, like a cat the other day, and a puppy that was all the way off the road on someone's driveway. Smoke had a game he called 'Squash the Squirrel', which was just what it sounded like. Smoke would swerve all the hell over the place to run over a squirrel and he kept count. Smoke bragged he had killed somebody before in the city in North Carolina where he used to live.

He said he walked right into a crippled lady's house and stabbed her fifty times just so he could take her handicap van for a drive. He said he came back after ditching the van and stole whatever he wanted and fixed a sandwich and ate it, staring at her dead, bloody body and then opening up her clothes. He said she was so ugly he cut on her a little more in places he wasn't even supposed to look at. He said his grandmother used to live with his family until he punched her in the face and she decided to move. He said she had nagged him one last time and that was that.

Smoke said he got locked up for killing the crippled lady and was let loose free as a bird the minute he turned sixteen, and no one except his family knew what he had done and never would, because that was the way the law worked. Dog knew it wouldn't be long before Smoke killed somebody again. He had that need. Dog didn't want to be the one who filled it.

'Baby, oh baby,' Divinity suddenly said as she twisted the top off another beer. 'Look at that ride. Ummmm ummmm.'

'We gotta keep looking for Weed,' Beeper reminded her.

'Oh no,' Divinity told him. 'Uh uh, baby. Stop right here 'cause I'm getting out.'

At West Gary Street, the alarm sounding inside Brazil's head seemed as audible as a fire truck moving traffic out of the way. Three teenage boys and a girl who looked like a. hooker were fondling Brazil's car as if they wanted to gang-rape it.

The boys were laughing, making their cool moves in wide-legged jeans half falling off, one leg rolled up, one down, big hightops, Chicago Bulls jerseys and stocking caps. The girl was dressed in a short tight black skirt and low-cut black tee shirt. They stared defiantly at Brazil and he stared back.

Brazil walked directly to his car, keys in hand, a Colt Mustang strapped around his right ankle under the leg of his worn-out jeans. His mood had been bad before he got here. Now it was dangerous.

'This your car, baby?' the girl asked.

'Yup,' Brazil replied.

'Where you get it?'

'Crown BMW on West Broad,' Brazil said with a smart-ass smile. 'They got a good selection.'

'Oh yeah?' the girl said. 'Well, Pretty Boy, that don't matter 'cause I just picked this one.'

Divinity decided she was the spokesperson for the gang. For one thing, she wasn't as drunk as the others. For another, the car man was as fine-looking as hell and she might just enjoy herself a little.

'Listen, baby.' Divinity stepped closer to him. 'Why don't you take little Divinity here on a little ride in that bad car of yours?"

She stepped closer. Pretty Boy moved back. The other three closed in. Pretty Boy was standing by the driver's door, street punks all around him.

'What's the matter, sugar?' Divinity brushed her fingers over Pretty Boy's chest. 'Euuuuu. What a man! Ummm-ummm.'

She pressed both of her hands against his muscular chest and liked what she was feeling.

'Don't touch me,' Pretty Boy said.

Beeper got in Pretty Boy's face.

'What'd you say to her, motherfucker?'

'I told her not to touch me. And get out of my face, asshole,' Pretty Boy said without raising his voice.

'Get outta my way,' Divinity told Beeper. 'He's mine.'

Beeper stepped aside. Divinity wanted to touch Pretty Boy again. She was getting interested in him touching her back. She leaned her breast against Brazil's arm.

'How's that feel, baby?' she cooed. 'It sure do feel good to me.'

'What the fuck you doing?' Dog exclaimed, grabbing her elbow and pulling her away.

'Man!' Sick started walking in cocky circles. 'Smoke see you, he kill all our asses!' he almost screamed.

Only Beeper kept his thoughts to himself. He seemed tired of Divinity showing off her parts as if she was some kind of V10 Viper that everybody wanted to drive.

'Let go of the white-meat boy,' Beeper suggested to her.

'Let's just take his car and get the fuck outta here,' Dog said nervously, looking around and wetting his lips.

'I'm not giving you the car,' Pretty Boy told them. 'It's not paid for.'

Divinity laughed and got close to him again.

'It's not paid for!' she hollered. 'It's not paid for! Oh baby, well it's good to know that 'cause we sure wouldn't want to steal no car that wasn't paid for!'

Sick, Dog and Beeper got into it. They started laughing and sneering, strutting around like badass chickens in a barnyard, pants hanging lower, boxer shorts riding higher.

Divinity put her hands on Brazil again, and she smelled like incense and her breath was bad. Her fingers trailed over his chest, and when she pressed up against him, grinding her pelvis into his, he shoved her away.

'You don't touch me unless I give permission,' Brazil told her in a tone that was four-star general.

'Motherfucker,' she hissed. 'Nobody pushes away Divinity.'

She reached under her short skirt and slipped out a thin switchblade. It zipped open, the long steel blade glinting in the uneven light of the street.

'Man, it's time to go,' the little mean kid with the buzz cut said.

'Put the fucking knife away,' the dumb one told Divinity.

'Get outta my face!' Divinity spat. 'You fuckheads leave, now. I got business to do and a nice new car to ride.'

'We leave you, Smoke will kill us,' the dumb one matter-of-factly stated.

'You don't and I'll kill you,' Divinity promised.

The three guys ran off. They disappeared around the corner toward Robinson Street. Divinity pointed the knife at Brazil's throat, moving in.

'I thought you wanted to be alone with me,' Brazil said as if nothing had ever scared him or ever could. 'What kind of way is that to start?'

'Don't fuck with me,' Divinity said in a soft, menacing voice.

'I thought that's what you wanted me to do. Fuck with you.'

'When I'm finished with you, baby, you won't be fucking nothing no more.'

Brazil pointed the remote key at the BMW's door and the lock clicked free.

'You ever been in one of these?' he asked her as the knife caught light.

He knew he could grab her faster than she could stab, but he would get cut, probably badly. He had something else in mind. He opened the car door.

'What do you think?' he said.

Divinity couldn't keep her eyes from wandering inside, taking in the dark, soft leather upholstery and thick carpet.

'Climb in,' Brazil said.

She looked uncertain.

'What's the matter? You afraid to be seen with me?' Brazil asked. 'You afraid your boyfriend will do something?'

'I'm not afraid of nothing,' she snapped.

'Maybe I just need to look the part, huh?' Brazil said. 'Maybe I'm not dressed right, huh?'

He sat sidesaddle in the driver's seat. He pulled his Polo shirt over his head and tossed it in back. Divinity stared at his bare chest. Sweat was rolling down it. He picked a Braves baseball cap off the dashboard and put it on backward.

Divinity grinned. She lowered the knife.

'I got Nikes on already.' Brazil held up his right foot. 'So all I gotta do is roll up the pants leg and then you climb in with me, baby. And we'll drive the night away.'

Divinity started giggling. She started laughing harder when Brazil reached down and started rolling up his right pants leg. She gasped when Brazil was suddenly pointing the Colt Mustang between her eyes. The switchblade clattered to the pavement. Divinity started running. An old shark-gray Lemans roared around the corner and slammed on the brakes. The back door flew open and Divinity dove in. Brazil stood in the middle of West Gary Street, the gun by his side, his heart pounding.

He thought about chasing them, but his better judgment told him to leave well enough alone. The Lemans was gone so fast, Brazil got only a glimpse of a Virginia plate. He got back in his BMW and drove along West Cary toward home.

The first time the Lemans rolled by slowly, its muffler was dragging the pavement and making a terrible noise, sparks flying as if the car were a match trying to light the street.

The bass was up so high the night throbbed worse than Weed's head, and he had scraped both palms when he dove into a ditch just in time. He had peeked through weeds and made out four people jumping around to the rap inside the car. One of them turned to look back as she drank out of a bottle. Weed had realized with horror that Divinity, Beeper, Sick and Dog were in that car and probably looking for him.

It was past ten the second time Weed heard the awful rumble of the souped-up engine and the clanging of the muffler and the boom-boom of the bass coming from a distance. He vaulted over a wall and crouched behind a spruce on the property of some rich person who lived in a brick mansion with big white pillars.

The Pikes disappeared down the road. Weed waited a good five minutes before he came out of hiding. He climbed back over the wall at the precise moment a small sports car purred around the bend, its high beams on and pinning Weed against the night like a moth against a window.