The Devil in Silver

And it wasn’t just the two of them. Suddenly Doris Roberts drifted away from Sandra Day O’Connor and gravitated toward Still Waters, two generations of Jewish women. Sandra Day suddenly found herself pulled toward the Redhead Kingpin. Wally Gambino and Loochie, kids from Queens, slid into step. Only Mr. Mack and Frank Waverly didn’t break off for new friends. Each man walked alone.

Pepper watched these allegiances shift. He did a little quick math. If everybody paired off with the people who looked most like them, he’d be spending this whole field trip with Heatmiser. What was he going to do, listen to that bastard mumble for the next hour because they happened to share skin color and genitalia? He picked up his pace and found Loochie, who was walking side by side with Wally Gambino. Pepper had to balance on the curbside, dodging trees and fire hydrants, if he wanted to keep pace. Wally was in the middle of a sentence when Pepper caught up.

“… and that’s why I’m saying,” Wally purred. “I been had my eye on you girl. I like that bald look. You lookin’ like a sexy mannequin.”

Loochie walked with her head down, not looking at Wally. She tugged her knit cap down lower, so it almost covered her eyes. She watched her feet as they walked, but she cut her eyes to the right, watching Wally warily.

“You’re doing the same thing right now!” Pepper laughed and pointed.

Wally glared at Pepper. “Big man! You got to back up. Me and shorty is having a parlay.”

Loochie jabbed her thumb toward Wally. “This is why women do it. I just didn’t know why white people do.”

Wally was in between them. They talked across him.

“Maybe it’s the same thing,” Pepper offered. “We just don’t want to be bothered.”

Wally leaned closer to Loochie and deepened his voice.

“I’m saying. You need to spend a little time with me.” He looked back at her butt. “You got a bubble I want to pop.”

Pepper couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

“I’m a virgin,” Loochie said with comical sincerity.

But Wally hadn’t heard her. Instead, he looked at Pepper. “Big man, you don’t want to be laughing at me. You know what they call me back home? They call me Bloody Loco! Make sure you recognize that name. ASAP!”

“I thought they call you Wally Gambino,” Pepper said.

“You don’t put no fucking fear in my heart,” Wally shouted. He was smaller than Pepper and much thinner. “You or no fucking man put no fear in my heart!”

Behind them, Nurse Washburn said, “We can take you back to New Hyde, Wilfredo. Turn you right around. ASAP.”

Wally sneered at Pepper. “We ain’t done,” he said.

Then he walked forward until he stomped alongside Scotch Tape. Now Scotch Tape had to listen to Wally grumble.

Pepper looked at Loochie. “Are we cool?”

Loochie nodded. She pointed at Wally Gambino, up ahead. “That’s why I keep my head down,” she said. “Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it. It’s just easier to protect myself from guys like him.”

“Yeah,” Pepper said. “I see.”

“But here’s what I still don’t understand,” Loochie continued. “White people do it to everyone. Even each other.”

Pepper sighed. “So?”

“So how much of the world are you all scared of?”

36

THE CREW REACHED Union Turnpike, and Scotch Tape pointed at the sign on the awning of their destination: Sal’s Restaurant & Bar Incorporated.

“Cheese on bread,” Mr. Mack muttered. “This is it?”

Scotch Tape pointed at the green awning, its white lettering. “Yes-sir!” he said. He tried to sound enthusiastic though he understood the look of disappointment creeping across each patient’s face.

A dozen patients shuffled and mumbled. They looked to the nurses who also nodded to show that indeed they’d reached the destination. Sal’s Restaurant & Bar. The staff tensed, a decision was being made by the group’s mind. Both nurses and the orderly calculated. Twelve patients and three staff. Imagine the debacle if even five or six of them decided to bolt, underwhelmed by this field trip. Half a dozen mental patients scrambling across Union Turnpike, that four-lane roadway with buses and big trucks speeding in both directions, perfect for splattering fleeing patients. There was a bus stop two stores down from the restaurant. Scotch Tape waited there after each shift as he began his ninety-minute journey home. Don’t run, don’t run, don’t run. That’s what the staff members were chanting in their heads.

“Who’s paying?” Loochie asked.

“New Hyde Hospital.” Nurse Washburn patted a sweater pocket where she carried the department’s debit card.

A little more murmuring. A few looks back and forth.

“So let’s get in there!” Scotch Tape said, grinning much too widely. He bounced from one foot to the other. He was getting himself ready to tackle the first person who tried to make a run. Young or old, man or woman. The first one to bolt was going to get whomped. A lesson for the others.

The second nurse said, “They make good pizza. I ate here before.”

“Can we get beer?” Pepper asked.