Summer Cool

27

Paine awoke in a room somewhere, sitting up on a chair, handcuffed behind. Paine's throat was parched with the taste of chemicals and dry heat.

Philly came into the room and smiled. He wore a long silk paisley robe. His feet were bare. The toenails shone as if they had been covered with clear lacquer. Philly had loosened his ponytail_; his straight, ink black hair hung loosely down, framing his beautiful face.

"Good morning, Paine." He smiled. He went to a window in the room, threw open the curtains, and opened the blinds. Hot morning sunlight slatted the room.

"What the hell did you spray me with, Philly?"

Philly's face brightened. "The Israeli army developed it for dealing with Palestinians. You like the bouquet?"

"The shit works."

"Let me get you a cup of coffee to wash that taste out of your mouth." Philly turned and went to another room.

"Where are we?" Paine called after him.

Philly laughed. "A place outside of Tucson. I have friends in the Indian community."

"Are we on a reservation?"

Philly appeared in the doorway with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. "Yes, Paine, we're on a reservation."

"What the hell is going on, Philly?"

"Don't talk," Philly said, crossing the room to stand before Paine. He leaned down, putting the lip of the coffee cup to Paine's mouth. "Drink."

Paine sipped_; his eyes rose and locked on Philly's, studying his face. Philly's eyes were wise, brown, beautiful pools. Philly's face pulled back slightly, the eyes still studying.

"I meant what I said about being good to you," he said. "Why did you lie about killing yourself?"

The eyes stayed solemn above the smile. The mouth matched the eyes. "I knew you had a weakness for suicides."

"Not anymore."

Philly abruptly stood up, putting the coffee away. A splash of it spilled on Paine. A sharpness entered Philly's voice. "It would have been too late now, anyway."

"You're the South American connection, aren't you, Philly?"

"That's me," Philly said. "I have the connections in Central and South America. I have family, I have friends."

"You told me you were finished with drugs."

"I don't take them anymore," he said. "But when you want nice things in your life, when you want things to be nice for the one you love, that takes money, and. ." He looked at Paine, brown eyes large. "You find a way to make money."

"What about Roberto?"

The eyes stayed large, liquid. "Roberto betrayed me."

"With the boy?"

Philly laughed. "There were other boys. They were toys for Roberto. I wanted things to be nice for Roberto, I wanted him to have anything he wanted. As long as he let me take care of him, I didn't care what he did. But he wanted to leave me, and threatened to tell Petty about me, and that would have ruined everything."

"Then why were Kwan's boys so upset about Roberto's murder?"

Philly laughed harshly. "I told you, Roberto used everybody. He had Kwan thinking he was the connection to South America, that without him nothing could happen." His large eyes looked sad. "And that's why I followed you from New York to catch you, Paine. Kwan doesn't like people who interfere. You're going to help me make him forget about Roberto."

"How?"

"Kwan can use you as bait."

"For what?"

"To catch Bobby Petty."

The day went along. Philly left the house, and Paine was left alone in the room in his chair, feeling the dry heat, watching the bands of hot light on the wall moving down as the sun moved up. Philly had gagged his mouth, and the hot air Paine pulled in through his nose was uncomfortable. Outside, he heard a desert bird call to another desert bird_; the second bird didn't want to answer, peeping without enthusiasm, but the first bird kept at it. The cuffs were tight, and Philly was good with knots and Paine could not loosen his feet. His hands went to sleep for awhile, and he shook them back awake. In late afternoon he heard two boys walk by the house playing ball, the ball making hard smacking sounds near the window, the boys occluding the bars of light, but the boys kept walking and everything became silent and hot again. In late afternoon, as the slats reached the floor and then faded as the sun moved up over the house, the desert bird called again to his mate, and this time there was an enthusiastic answer and they flew off together, peeping amiably.

Philly returned near nightfall. He entered the house whistling, and when he came into the room he smiled at Paine. He turned on a floor lamp in one corner. He was cradling a long paper bag. He wore an open-necked silk shirt and loose khaki trousers. A single thin silver chain circled his neck, and he wore a tiny silver earring. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail once more.

"Good news, Paine," he said. He came to Paine, put down his paper sack, and untied the gag_; Paine felt how soft his fingers were.

"For you or me?"

Philly laughed, picked up the paper bag, and removed a bottle of wine from it. "You must be thirsty."

He left the room, returning soon with two wineglasses with ice in them. He opened the bottle, and half filled both glasses. He sat down in front of Paine, crossing his legs, and held up one glass in toast.

"To you, Paine."

"What are you toasting?"

"They'll be here in an hour!"

"And you?"

Philly rose, lifted the other wineglass, and tilted it so Paine could sip from it. "I go back to Yonkers."

"And work for Kwan?"

"Kwan will have to be quiet in Yonkers for a while, but things will settle down. Everything is set up for him. When he wishes, when the police realize that they must start from the beginning, then he will begin."

"Will he let you retire?"

"He already has." He let Paine finish the wine, put the glass on the floor. He walked to the doorway, stopped, but didn't turn."

"Just so you know," he said, "Roberto didn't suffer."

"You cut his balls off, Philly."

"That was after. I loved him, Paine."

Then he walked out and was gone.

An hour passed, perhaps a little more. Paine heard what sounded like a jeep pass the house, go on, come back. Car doors slammed. The front door of the house was opened, pushed in, hard. Two figures came to the doorway of Paine's room, looked, a third pushed past them into it.

The figure came close to Paine, the black man from the alley next to Paine's office building He studied Paine closely, put his fingers on Paine's false mustache and tore it off. He turned to his two companions.

"Yes," he said curtly, and they came into the room and lifted Paine from his chair, holding him under the arms, and followed their leader out into the night.