Soul Circus

“All of these hatreds get taught,” said Qui

“Sure they do,” said Strange. “We get schooled by the people around us, and it stays inside us deep.”

“Yesterday, when I tricked that kid into giving me his mother’s apartment number?”

“Olivia Elliot’s boy.

“Him. You should have seen the way he was looking at me, Derek. Like he should’ve known from the get-go that the white guy was go

“That’s like blaming the meter maid’s color for the ticket she wrote. You were just doing your job.”

“The job stinks sometimes.”

“You took those kinds of looks regular when you were a cop. Like you were part of the occupying army or something. On my side, when I wore the uniform, I caught that house-nigger rap all the time. Again, it’s part of the job.”

Qui

“So anything we do,” said Qui

“If you accept it going in, yes.”

“Like Granville Oliver?” said Qui

Only Janine knew the truth: that Strange had been responsible for the death of Granville Oliver’s father, back in 1968. That Oliver had spared the lives of two killers at Strange’s request, in exchange for Strange’s help, less than a year ago.

Strange looked into his drink. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“You were making a living before you took Oliver’s case. You didn’t have to take it.”

“I know you think it’s wrong.”

“Damn right I do. Piece of shit killed or had killed, what, a dozen people. He infected his community and he ruined the lives of all the young men he took on, and their families.”

“Most likely he did.”

“Then why shouldn’t he die?”

“It’s not him I’m working for. For me, it comes down to one thing: I don’t believe any government should be putting its own citizens to death. Here in D.C. we voted against it, and the government’s just go

“Maybe it will make some kid who’s thinking about getting into the life think twice.”

“That’s the argument. But in most civilized countries where they don’t have the death penalty, they’ve got virtually no murders. ’Cause they’ve got the guns off the street, they’ve got little real poverty, and they got citizens who get involved in raising their own kids. The same people who are pro-death penalty are the ones want to protect the rights of gun manufacturers to export death into the i

“Well, yeah, but he doesn’t think people should dance, either.”

“I’m serious, Terry, shit doesn’t even make any sense. Look, an active death row doesn’t deter crime; ain’t nobody ever proved that. It’s all about some politicians lookin’ to be tough so they can get reelected the next time around. And that makes it bullshit to me. I’d do this for anyone who was facing that sentence.”

“What about McVeigh?”

“You know what they do in prison to people who kill kids? McVeigh got off easy, man; that boy just went to sleep. They should’ve put him in with the general population for as long as he could live. Trust me, wouldn’t have been long. But they did him to get the ball rolling on this wave of executions we got coming. Wasn’t nobody go

“Here we go.”

“Look here, Terry. Out of the twenty men they got on federal death row right now, sixteen are black or Hispanic.”

“Could be they did the crimes.”

“And it could be they got substandard representation. Could be they found a death-qualified jury that’s more likely to find guilt than the other kind. Could be the prosecutors used those Willie Horton images to convince the jury that what they had was another nigger needed to be permanently took off the street. And I’m not even go

“It’s about Granville Oliver, to me. Everything you’re saying, it makes some sense. But it all comes down to the simple question: Did Oliver do what they say he did?”

“That’s off the point.”

“It is the whole point, way I look at it. If he did those things, then I wouldn’t want to do anything to help him get off. I’m looking to stay on the right side from now on. You keep on the Oliver thing, you want to. But it’s not for me.”

Strange and Qui

“What’s goin’ on, Junie?”

“I’m makin’ it, Strange.”

Strange sipped at his scotch while Qui

“I’m go

“That vein of yours is standin’ out on your face.”

“So what?”

“Don’t get up in anyone’s shit, is all I’m sayin’.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Qui

“Thank you,” said the man.

“No problem,” said Qui

Junie moved down a stool so he could get closer to Strange. When they ran into each other, the two of them generally talked about local sports, who was coming out of what high school and where they were headed, and the ’Skins.

“That friend of yours is wound up a little tight, isn’t he?” said Junie.

“He’s okay.” Strange smiled over Junie’s shoulder at a nice-looking woman who was smiling at him. It was a habit he would never break.

“You two were arguing about something?”

“My boy just gets passionate about shit sometimes. So do I, I guess.”

Junie took a sip of his drink. “What you think about Jeff George and the new coach? He go

“George don’t need a coach,” said Strange. “You ask me, man needs a shrink.”

Qui

“What’s up?” said Strange when Qui

“Sue’s all stoked. She’s over at the Black Cat at some show.”

“On Fourteenth?”

“Yeah. Says she was up front, center stage for this guy Steve Wy

“We better get going, then. All that piss and vinegar you got in you, you don’t want to waste it on me.”

They put down twenty on fifteen and crossed the room. Qui

“What the fuck is he starin’ at?” said Qui

“He ain’t starin’ at nothin’, Terry. The man is blind.”

“I’m just fuckin’ with you, man.”

Out in the night they moved toward the Caprice. Strange held out his keys.

“You feel like driving?”

“Why, you got drunk on one scotch?”

“Nah, just tired.”

“I better not,” said Qui

“You got driving glasses, don’t you?”

“I didn’t bring ’em. And I probably wouldn’t wear them if I had.”

“Afraid someone might mistake you for your boy Lewis?”