Crossroad Blues (The Nick Travers Novels) by Atkins Ace

Author:Atkins, Ace [Atkins, Ace]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: unread
Publisher: Carrefour, Ltd.
Published: 2011-07-18T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

Jesse Garon hung over a wrought-iron balcony looking down on Royal Street early the next morning. In the eye-squinting light, the grillwork looked to him like the lace off an old woman's garter. He grabbed its rusty bars monkey-style and searched for the King Creole Club. Had to be around here somewhere.

E had turned it into a real big place in the movie. It wouldn't have just gone out of business or somethin', even though that old bastard had tried to fuck it up. 'Cause if there was one thing about Elvis--He always won. E always rose to the top to become whatever He wanted to be: a singer, a race-car driver, a gunfighter, or a goddamned helicopter pilot. E was the shit.

He pushed up his pompadour with pride and walked back into the apartment where Keith had lived. On a mirrored table, he flipped through a stack of photographs of bikini-clad women from a trip to Panama City Beach. He smiled at Keith flexing his muscles with a Miller Lite can in his hand. There were other pictures of Keith, in another stack, with movie stars and a rap singer whose name he didn't know. Jesse stopped flipping when he saw a shot of Puka. Just sittin' there in those same ole bib overalls, a fat wad of Red Man in his cheek. He needed to call that dumb son of a bitch in Mississippi. Tell him 'bout him takin' over Keith's business.

Jesse took out his switchblade and rubbed the steel along his cheek. Felt real nice and cool. Just a simple rough scrape. The knife like a microphone. Killin' his singing. When E was nine, His momma said, "Son, take this guitar, you're not going to get a rifle. Take it and play it." Well, Jesse's momma had given him a switchblade and said, "Go make us some damned money."

He tossed the pictures of Keith into the cardboard box he'd brought. Floyd said to clear out anything personal Keith had before the cops got there, especially anything that said something about the Blues Shack. Told him he'd come by in a few minutes and double-check that he got everything out.

Floyd also said he would meet the big man today--Pascal Cruz. The man sounded real powerful. Maybe Cruz would be his Colonel Parker, the man to recognize his talent and know how to get him exploited. Some people said being exploited was bad, but they were just people no one wanted to exploit. He wanted his face on shot glasses and T-shirts. He wanted people to find the trailer where he grew up and make pilgrimages.

Maybe he'd make enough money to buy that double-wide for his momma, a black leather jumpsuit like E wore in the '68 Comeback Special, a classic Trans Am, and a woman to be his Priscilla. That wasn't too much to ask for.

This Cruz dude was his future. At first he wondered about a man who would have such a hard-on for nigra music. But then he thought about it and realized E did, too.

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