Wild at Heart by Barry Gifford

Author:Barry Gifford [Gifford, Barry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Novela, Policial, Romántico
Publisher: ePubLibre
Published: 1990-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

NIGHT LIFE

“I wouldn’t mind a little night life,” said Lula. “How about you?”

Sailor cruised the Bonneville slowly along Napoleon Avenue, casing the neighborhood. It was nine o’clock at night and they were in the town of Nuñez, on the Louisiana side of the Louisiana-Texas border.

“Hard to tell what’s shakin’ in a place like this, honey,” said Sailor. “You don’t want to be walkin’ in the wrong door.”

“Maybe there’s a place we could hear some music. I feel like dancin’. We could ask somewhere,” Lula said.

Sailor turned left into Lafitte Road and spotted a Red Devil gas station that still had its lights on.

“Someone up here might know somethin’,” he said, and pulled the car over.

A skinny, pimply-faced guy of about eighteen, wearing dirty yellow coveralls and a crumpled black baseball cap with a red felt N on it, walked over to them.

“Gas?” he said.

“Got enough, thanks,” said Sailor. “We’re lookin’ for a place has some music, where we can maybe get somethin’ to eat, too. Anything like that around here?”

“Cornbread’s,” said the attendant. “They got western. No food, though, ’cept bar nibbles.”

Lula slid over in the front seat and leaned across Sailor.

“How about rock ’n’ roll?” she asked.

“There’s a boogie joint just about a mile straight out Lafitte here. But that’s a black place mostly.”

“What’s the name of it?” asked Sailor.

“Club Zanzibar.”

“You say it’s straight ahead a mile?”

“About. Where Lafitte crosses over Galvez Highway. State Road 86.”

“Thanks,” said Sailor.

The Club Zanzibar was in a white wood building on the left-hand side of the road. A string of multicolored lights was hung over the front. Sailor parked the Bonneville across from the club and cut the engine.

“You ready for this?” he asked.

“We’ll find out in a hurry,” said Lula.

When they walked in, a band was playing a slow blues and three or four couples were swaying on the dance floor. There were a dozen tables and a long bar in the room. Eight of the tables were occupied and six or seven men sat or stood at the bar. Everyone in the place was black except for one white woman, who was sitting alone at a table smoking a cigarette and drinking Pearl straight from the bottle.

“Come on,” said Lula, taking Sailor by the hand and leading him onto the dance floor.

The tune was John Lee Hooker’s “Sugar Mama,” and Lula insinuated her body into Sailor’s and left it there. After that the band picked up the beat. Sailor and Lula danced for twenty minutes before Sailor begged off and dragged Lula over to the bar and ordered two Lone Star beers. The bartender, a tall, heavyset man in his early fifties, served the beers, took Sailor’s money and gave him his change with a big smile.

“This is a friendly place, son,” said the bartender. “You folks just relax and have a nice time.”

“No problem,” said Lula. “You got a real fine band here.”

The bartender smiled again and moved on down the bar.

“You notice that woman when we come in?” Lula said to Sailor.

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