Rough Trade by Todd Robinson

Author:Todd Robinson [Robinson, Todd]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Polis Books
Published: 2016-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

***

I parked in the municipal lot behind the bar, stuck the burrito under my arm, and grabbed the trumpet case. The Cellar had been closed for two hours, so it was as safe a place as any for me to rest my head. My apartment was still off-limits until I knew who had targeted me there. My first thought had been Summerfield as the obvious suspect, but with all the current goings on, I couldn’t be so sure any more. At least The Cellar I could lock down.

I locked the door and turned directly into a flashlight beam shining in my eyes. Instinctively, I threw my hands into the air. The burrito hit the concrete with a wet splat.

“Where have you been?” yelled the man blinding me.

“Goddamn it, Underdog. Look what you did to my burrito.”

“I don’t care even the slightest about your freaking burrito. I’ve been looking for you all night.”

“Weren’t you the one who told me to go out and find a reason not to put me and Junior in jail?” I bent over to collect what remained of what was now a taco salad. “And shut off that fucking light.”

“I also told you to stay in touch with me.” He shut the Maglite off, then pointed it at my hand. “What is that?”

“It’s a trumpet case.”

“Why are you carrying a trumpet case? And what are you driving? Where is Junior’s car?”

“Any particular order you want me to answer those questions?”

“Do you really want to be a smartass right now, Boo?”

“You really want to be the cop right now? Or are you my friend? Hard to tell nowadays.”

Underdog sighed, his long exhalation frozen on the night air. His shoulders slumped back into their submissive position. Like the Hulk in reverse, Brendan Miller the police officer slowly shrunk back into Underdog. Sweet, needy, pliable Underdog.

My burrito-spurred appetite dwindled as guilt washed over me. Second time in two days I’d forced him into submission, when if I was a real friend, I should be doing everything I could to keep him strong. Underdog was a mess—a human trash fire. Brendan Miller was the man I wanted my friend to be.

It made me feel like shit, but I didn’t need another cop in my night. I needed Underdog. But if I was the type of guy who needed to knock a man down to where I felt he wasn’t an enemy, what did that make me?

I didn’t like feeling like a bad friend.

“You know?” Underdog said. “Every day, it gets easier to understand how people might want to shoot you.”

As a reminder, the cold was starting to crush my old knee wound with an icy vise. “Listen, can we at least get inside a car and talk?”

“Which brings me to my first question. Where’s the Buick?” Underdog opened the door to his sedan, gesturing for me to get in the other side.

“I don’t have it.” Not the whole truth. I needed to dodge lying where I could. I was bad at it.

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