Dirty South

ALIAS walked back from the bathroom and took a seat at my sofa. “Y’all give me a phone. I’ll have my people come for me.”

“No,” I said.

“What you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean, you’re comin’ with me.”

“Where?”

“Help with some things.”

“Fuck that, man,” ALIAS said, leaning forward, his Superman symbol dangling off his chest.

“Thanks,” I said. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The kid followed, shoulders slumped and hat down far into his eyes.

I said to the men: “We’ll see you at the bar.”

JoJo winked.

I grabbed a clean shirt, a toolbox, and a flashlight.

At the bottom of the landing and on into the garage, ALIAS turned to me and said, “Man, fuck all this. That man call me a thief.”

“Is that not true?”

“Shit, no.”

“That old man only deals in respect.”

“You got to give it to get it.”

I climbed in and started my truck. We backed out onto Julia Street.

“You know Trey Brill?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. He shook his head and made a wry smile.

“Don’t like him,” I said.

“He’s like this white dude that’s always tryin’ to be down and shit. Calls me dog and tries out words he’s heard on BET. He’s just some white boy on the lake tryin’ to call on me. Come on, man.”

“You know a friend of his named Christian Chase?”

ALIAS laughed. “Na, man. Don’t know no dudes named Christian.”

“Was Trey tight with Malcolm?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Malcolm and him rolled.”

“Where?”

“You know, clubs and shit.”

“He ever talk to you about money?”

“Na,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Just askin’.”

“You think he played me?”

“I think he played a lot of folks,” I said.

“Why he do that?” he said. “Boy gets a cut of Teddy’s money all the way.”

“People like that you can’t figure out,” I said. “Their souls are polluted.”

“What about you?” ALIAS said. “Teddy bought you a bar. Ain’t nobody in it for nothin’ else but themselves.”

“That’s a cold attitude.”

“Cold keeps your ass alive,” he said, sliding down deep into the seat, watching the gray buildings and neon weather the rain.

46

DOGS LIKED BEER. I had just cracked opened a Dixie when Annie craned her neck in the slot between the driver and passenger seats and tried to get a good gulp. I gently pushed her into the backseat of my truck with the flat of my hand and pulled out a po’boy from Johnnie’s for ALIAS. He grabbed it and unwrapped the fried oyster sandwich, eating while we waited for the rain to quit pelting the Quarter. I soon learned that ole Polk Salad liked po’boys better than beer. I had to push her back about a dozen times.

The sky turned a deep bluish green and black and the little wooden signs under the crooked wrought-iron balconies swung in the wind. A stripper, bathed in red light, smoked a cigarette by an open door, her black silk robe open to show a pasty white belly.

“You mind if I start calling you Tavarius?”

“Na, that’s cool. But if you holla at me, you know, with my people, call me ALIAS.”

“You think that stripper would like a beer?”

“Man, I wouldn’t let that woman lick the rims on my Mercedes.”

“I see what you mean.” I flicked the switch for my windshield blades on my truck to clear the view. “Good God.”

We laughed for a while. Tavarius worked on his sandwich and I stared across the little street. I felt my breath change. “You want to tell me about what happened in Clarksdale?”

“Ain’t nothin’ to tell.”

“That’s not the way I heard it.”

“All y’all think I’m a thief.”

“You didn’t take JoJo’s money?”

“I got a mansion, two Mercedeses, a four-wheeler with chrome rims, and a Sea-Do. What do I need with an old man’s two bits?”

I finished the beer, the rain still hitting the hood, and tucked the trash back in the sack. I reached into my glove compartment and pulled out the Polaroid I’d found of Bloom and Dahlia at the piano bar.

“You recognize them?”

Tavarius took the picture from my hand, bit his lower lip, and started to nod. “Yeah. Yeah.”

“Her name is Dahlia.”

“That’s the man too,” he said. “That’s them. See that fucked-up ear?”

“Never can be too sure.”

“What you gonna do now?”

“I’m workin’ on some things,” I said. “Don’t want to scare anyone off yet.”

“What these jokers got to do with Teddy’s white boy?”

I shook my head. “That’s the question, man.”

He nodded. I grabbed my toolbox from the rear hatch and ALIAS and I ran for the doors. Annie stayed in the truck with the uneaten portion of my crawfish-and-Crystal po’boy.

In the little cove by the door, a curtain of rain fell close to my shoulder while I turned the key in the lock. The air in the bar popped inside from the vacuum.

ALIAS pulled at his shirt and loose water fell on his jeans and oversized jean jacket. “Shit.”

The bar smelled of fresh paint and Sheetrock. I held open the door while ALIAS wandered inside. I followed, hearing my feet under me sound hollow and unfamiliar. Looking around. Confused. Our voices echoing from the emptiness of the place. I could almost hear the bass and rhythm guitar shaking the old bar despite the black walls and velvet drapes.