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“How well do I have to know someone before I take their case? My God, Grady, I’ve represented people I barely knew, even barely liked.”
“But this one may be your twin, and that makes you emotionally involved. You’ll get all bollixed up. How can you prepare a defense and maintain your objectivity?”
Be
“That was different,” Grady said, maintaining an even tone. If they were going to fight, he wasn’t going to let fly with the first round. A Civil War buff, Grady was never as quick into battle as Be
“It’s still cops. Who better to investigate cops than me?” Be
“If you’re concerned, get her a good lawyer. The lawyer you’d hire for me.”
Be
“Why not? It doesn’t follow that because Co
Be
Grady sighed. “You’re go
“Yes,” Be
“You comin’ to bed?” Grady asked. He stood in the door to Be
“Can I get a rain check?” she asked, sitting at the computer keyboard. She was researching articles about the Della Porta murder, which she needed before she met with Co
“You can’t get a rain check, babe.” Grady put warm hands on Be
“Spontaneity is overrated. Have your girl call my girl.”
“As long as we’re negotiating, I’ll settle for the morning.”
“But I hate the morning.”
“Don’t whine. You have to pretend you like it.”
“So what else is new?”
Grady laughed and read the monitor over Be
“I plugged in ‘Alice Co
“Use ‘w/15 Della Porta.’ That’ll get you only the articles about the murder.”
Be
“I support all the stupid things you do.”
“What a guy.”
“So you do appreciate me.” Grady leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Good night. You’re off the hook, for now. I made you a pot of coffee. Don’t work too hard.” He scratched Bear’s head. “Take care of her, boy,” he said, and left the room, padding out in bare feet.
Be
8
Star glanced at the squirrelly dude in the passenger seat. Dude all but disappeared in the bucket seat, he was so fuckin’ short. Flabby even for a white guy and he had those hair plugs. Brown hairs sprouting out of his head like rows of tomato plants. To look at him, Star couldn’t believe the dude had juice, but T-Boy said he did. “T-Boy think your friend can help me out,” Star said.
“T-Boy’s right. My friend knows everybody.” The dude nodded. “Everybody. He’ll help you out, no problem.”
“Your friend know somebody in the house, is what I’m axin’.”
“He knows everybody in the house. Everybody who matters anyways.”
“Gotta be somebody who can do the job.” Star steered the Caddy up the street, past boarded-up crackhouses. Nobody was on the street, but Star still flipped up the collar of his Starter jacket. He couldn’t afford to be recognized and he was too big a man to hide. He used to be too good a man to be doing shit like this. “Nothin’ can go wrong, you hear?”
“Nothin’s go
Star hesitated. Not because he was scared, the deal wasn’t even illegal. The Champ used to say it all the time, Frazier in ten. No, the problem was that Star felt like such a fuckin’ pussy, payin’ somebody to do it for him. Man should do his own killing, but Star had his future to think about.
“You know the bitch, right? Co
“I know her name.”
“He gotta do her by the weekend. That’s it, a week. You only got ’til the trial.”
“My friend will get it done. You make sure you get it done.”
“Shit, motherfucker!” Star shouted, twisting toward him in the seat. “Don’t be usin’ that tone with me. I don’t need no asshole tellin’ me. I got the deal. I carry Harris ’til the seventh, then he goes down. It’ll be the farthes’ he get with me. Tell your friend to put his money down. Harris gets knocked out in the seventh.”
“Can’t be a decision, got to be a knockout.”
“I know that! I said that!”
Dude looked out the window in the dark. “My friend hearin’ shit about you. Heard you lost your touch. He don’t think you can deliver.”
“I don’t give a fuck what your friend say, asshole! I deliver!” Star slammed the steering wheel. He hated this little ratfuck. He hated that Anthony was gone. He hated himself. “The seventh, Harris will be knocked out! Man won’t know his own mother!”
“Chill. My friend has a lot of money on you. A lot of money. He ain’t the kind of friend you fuck with.”
“I ain’t the kind of friend you fuck with! Motherfuck!” Star rumbled like a volcano inside. Didn’t mean nothin’ to the dude Star fought Golden Gloves, was the next Tyson. Nigger could never get over. Star twisted the Caddy to the curb and jerked open the passenger door. “Get out, freak!”
“What? In this neighborhood?” the dude said, his voice panicky.
“I said, get out!” Star shoved the asshole onto the sidewalk and slammed the door closed. “Better run, motherfucker! It’s gettin’ dark out.”