Summer Cool

4

Paine sat in his car. The road he had parked on sported uncollected garbage spilling off the curbs, cracked brick-face buildings, rusting grates over bodega windows, Miller beer signs behind iron-reinforced windows with only the neon on the M flashing sporadically. The entire street looked like an alley.

Ah, America, Paine thought.

Paine lifted his watch to check the time_; as he did so, there was a tap on the passenger-side window and he looked over to see Roberto Hermano's smiling face. Hermano was almost woman-cute, with tight black curls, limpid brown eyes with long lashes. His skin was smooth and unblemished. He was twenty-six, but looked seventeen. Paine's watch said 5:45; Hermano was precisely on time.

Paine leaned over and unlocked the door, and Hermano slid into the seat, slammed the door behind him, and relocked it.

Hermano flipped the switch on a miniature boom box he had set in his lap; a blurt of reggae music came out, very loud, before Paine hit the stop button and said, "Don't."

Hermano smiled widely and then feigned hurt. "Paine-man, how you doing? Don't you like Bob Marley, man? I like Bob Marley." He moved his face closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. Paine smelled garlic and marijuana, a sickening mix. "Aroun' this neighborhood, man, even if you Puerto Rican, you gotta like Bob Marley."

He moved back to his side of the seat, punched Paine playfully on the arm with his left fist. "So, Paine-man, how you been? You know, I always like you. I like the way you didn't ring my cajones the way that Dannon did. Dannon liked to ring my cajones. I bet he like to suck them, if he can. That fuck-meat, I hope he rot in hell where he is." He smiled, showing beautiful white teeth. "So, how you been?"

"Not bad. I want to know about Bobby."

"Bobby? Bobby, he great, man. He the greatest. I got nothing but good things to say about Bobby."

"Do you have any idea where he is?"

"Me?" He shook his head vigorously. "No, I got no idea. Like I say, Bobby, he's the greatest."

"Did you know he's gone?"

A wary look clicked onto Hermano's face. "You mean fired? Or like you, busted down?"

"No, gone. He took off, left his family, the police force."

A sickly smile had come onto Hermano's face. "Don't say that, man. Don't joke wi' me, you know it's not nice."

"It's true. I thought it might have something to do with this job you're working with him on."

Hermano shook his head even more vigorously. "No, no, no. Can't be. He can't be gone."

"He is."

"Es'cuse me, man," Hermano said. He fumbled for the door latch, got the door open just in time to vomit into the street. The small boom box started to slip down off his lap and Paine reached over, putting it back onto the seat.

Hermano retched four or five times, stayed hunched over breathing deeply, then slowly straightened. He closed the car door, locked it. He looked ill when he turned back to Paine.

"You not shitting me, are you?"

"He's gone. Told his wife he's not coming back."

"That's bad. That's very bad. You know, Bobby, he was acting a little edgy I saw him yesterday. I got scared, man. Petty never make me scared before. I jus' thought it was trouble with Coleman, trouble at home." A glimmer of hope sparked into his face. "You here to pick up for him?"

Paine shook his head. "Coleman wanted me back on the force, but I said no."

Hermano was shaking his head again, slowly this time. "Very bad. That Coleman, he'll chuck me to the shit pile now. He never liked Bobby at all. He'll never keep Bobby's promise. They'll put me back in the house. That's something I can't do no more of. No more of that shit. I like women, women like me, no more of that shit. .

"From what I heard, it sounded like they need you."

Hermano brightened. "Really?" His hope dimmed. "No. You heard that from Coleman. Coleman is mean. That Coleman was in the marines, they taught him stuff. Him and that Dannon, they had me in the cellar room once, and they beat me up bad. Dannon liked it. I don't know if Coleman liked it, but he did it. He doesn't know what Bobby had. We had almost nothing. These Jamaicans, they not letting me in yet. Bobby knew that. He told Coleman we were in, the thing was set, we'd be ready to go soon. Bobby was covering my ass." He looked up, smiling like a dead man. "Guess he can't cover it no more, right?"

Paine said nothing.

"I can't do no more of that shit," Hermano said. He groped for his boom box, cradled it, opened the door of the car. "Thanks, Paine," he said. "I always like you."

He got out, slammed the door.

When Paine turned to see where Hermano had gone, he had already disappeared.