Drama City by George Pelecanos

Author:George Pelecanos [PELECANOS, GEORGE]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780759513372
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

YOU WANT ANOTHER?” said Joe Carver, reaching for the small red cooler at his feet.

“Sure,” said Lorenzo Brown. “Long as you’re buyin’.”

Joe withdrew two Miller Genuines from the cooler and handed one to Lorenzo. Lorenzo ran his hand over the bottle to remove the water and bits of ice. He and Joe hand-turned the caps, tapped bottles, and drank. Both had worked full days in the summer heat. The beer was cold and went down straight.

The porch was unlit and absent of moonlight beneath the cover of its roof. Joe and Lorenzo sat on cushioned chairs that faced the street, Joe’s feet up on the rail. Jasmine lay on her belly, also watching the street, blinking her eyes slowly, her snout hanging over the porch’s first step.

Joe liked to sit out here most nights, from spring well into the autumn. He had fallen before Lorenzo and done longer time. Ten years in Kentucky after his third conviction, a federal rap. He had refused to testify against Nigel or anyone else, and suspected that because he’d stood tall, he had been penalized with a harsher sentence. It was a story as old as history: The soldiers fell on their swords and the kings survived.

In prison, Joe hadn’t boasted on plans or unattainable goals like some of the talkers he knew. He had dreamed of getting a job, breathing fresh air, and, when the workday was done, finding a comfortable place to sit where there were no walls. Now he was doing just that.

“So you gonna date this woman?” said Joe. He meant Rayne. Lorenzo had described her and their encounter.

“I don’t know about date,” said Lorenzo. “I plan to do something with her and her little girl, like a daytime thing. See how we all get along.”

“She know about you?”

“Yeah. She fine with it. Least she claims to be.”

“Be careful.”

“She don’t look all that dangerous to me.”

“I’m sayin’, you got your own little girl to think of.”

“Shay doin’ fine,” said Lorenzo. “I saw her this evening. Her mama wouldn’t let me talk to her or nothin’ like that, but she looked great. Happy. Looks like Sherelle got herself a good man this time.”

“You met him?”

“In a way. He seems all right.”

“My boy’s got a man looking after him too. He stay in the same place with my boy’s mama. He ain’t the father, but . . . long as they loved, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You and me, we fucked up. But that don’t mean our kids got to be fucked up because of it.”

“For real.”

Joe looked out at the night, picturing his son. “Whole lot of ways to make a family.”

They drank some more and listened to the crickets, the dogs barking in the alleys, and the swish of tires on asphalt from down on Georgia Avenue. The sounds were familiar and comforting. Jasmine sighed and closed her eyes.

“Your truck running all right?” said Lorenzo, looking at it, a ’95 Ford, the pre-jelly bean body style, parked under a street lamp.

“Long as I change the oil regular,” said Joe.

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