Soul Circus

“Come on, man, let’s go.”

Mike Montgomery was in the kitchen sitting at a small table, leaning back, his long hand around a can of Coke. Strange said, “Mike,” and extended his hand, but Montgomery did not move to take it, and Strange had a seat. Qui

“I just wanted to tell you,” said Strange, “you did a real good thing tonight.”

Montgomery nodded but did not meet Strange’s eyes.

“You like kids, don’t you, Mike?”

Montgomery shrugged.

“How about football, you into that?”

Montgomery swigged from the Coke can and set it back down on the table.

“I got a football team for young men, just getting close to their teens. I could use a guy like you to help me out.”

“Shit,” said Montgomery, shaking his head, smiling but without joy. “I don’t think so, man.”

“Okay, you’re tough,” said Strange. “But you don’t have to be so tough all the time.”

“What else I’m go

“You can be whatever,” said Strange. “It’s not too late.”

Again, Montgomery said nothing. Strange slipped a business card from his wallet and dropped it on the table between them. Montgomery made no move to pick it up.

“You hurt him?” said Montgomery, his eyes moving to the blood across Strange’s shirt.

“Took him down a few notches, is all.” Strange leaned forward. “Tell me something: Who’s protecting McKinley?”

Montgomery shifted his weight in his seat. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. And if I did know I wouldn’t say. I already betrayed him once tonight. Don’t be askin’ me to do it again.”

“You’re better than you think you are,” said Strange.

Montgomery looked away. “Tell the little man I said good-bye, hear?”

He got up from the table and left the kitchen. Soon after, Strange and Qui

“You tried,” said Qui

Out in the parking lot, Mike Montgomery got into his Z, a car McKinley had paid for in cash and given him as a gift. He hit the ignition and drove over to Suitland Road, taking that out of D.C. and into Maryland. The cell phone on the seat beside him began to ring. He had programmed it to go to messages after six rings, but three was enough for his ears, and he reached over and turned the power off. McKinley had been trying to get him all night, and that ringing sound was like someone screamin’ in his head. Horace was his father and older brother, all in one. But he shouldn’t have hurt that girl like he did. And he shouldn’t have fucked with no kid.

Montgomery had no job and no way to get one. He could hardly read. Would be hard to punch a clock, have some boss in his face all the time after sitting high where he’d been these past couple of years. Trying to be straight, knowing he’d killed. But he’d have to figure all that out. For now, he had around fifteen hundred cash he’d saved and a full tank of gas. A gym bag, holding a change of clothes and his toothbrush, was in the trunk.

Montgomery followed Suitland Road over to Branch Avenue, which was Route 5. He knew that 5 co

His mother was down there, and his baby brother, too. He was looking forward to throwing a football around with the boy. The little man loved football, and Montgomery did, too.

Mike hadn’t seen them for quite some time.

IN the salon parking lot, Qui

“Aren’t you go

“I’ll be along in a little while. Me and Terry got some more business to take care of tonight.”

She kissed him on the cheek and got into her car. They watched her drive away.

“So what did you do to McKinley?” said Qui

“You been dyin’ to know, haven’t you?”

“You had that look in your eye.”

“I just cut him some. Nothin’ a good brassiere won’t hide.”

“What was that shit in there about who he was working for?”

“I’ll tell you later. Still rolling it around in my mind.” Strange shifted his shoulders. “Can you handle a little more work?”

“I’m hungry.”

“I’m about to chew on my arm, too.”

“Donut doesn’t live too far from here.”

“I’ll follow you,” said Strange. “We find Mario, maybe we can end this day right.”

Chapter 32

WHEN Mario Durham woke up on the couch, the television was still showing something he didn’t want to watch, and he was still alone. Quiet as it was, he guessed the girl Dewayne had put him up with hadn’t come home. He wouldn’t be surprised if she spent the night somewhere else. She wasn’t the friendly type, or maybe she was afraid of him, or afraid of what she’d do if she got around him too long. Dewayne prob’ly told her not to think about gettin’ busy with him, that he had too many women problems as it was. On the other hand, she could be one of them Xena bitches, didn’t like men.

Compared to most, Olivia had been a good woman, except for that one mistake she’d made. Shame she’d done him dirt, made him have to do her like he did. Anyway, he couldn’t change nothin’ about that now.

Durham washed his face and rolled on some of the girl’s deodorant from out of the medicine cabinet. He went to the kitchen and looked around for something to eat, but he couldn’t find nothin’ he liked. Then he thought of that market on the corner. He could get a soda and some chips down there, couple of those Slim Jims that his brother liked to eat and that he liked, too. And then he thought, While I’m down there, might as well do a little more business, put some cash money in my pocket. It had gone pretty smooth the last time.

He gathered up the rest of the dummies, and some cash to make change, and dropped the vials in a pocket of his Tommys. He fitted his knit Redskins cap on his head, adjusting it in the mirror so it was cocked just right, and left the apartment.

Mario walked down the darkened street to the corner where the market was still open and the streetlight stood. It was quiet out now. He didn’t wear a wristwatch and hadn’t thought to check the time. But he knew it must be late.

He stood on the corner, one hand in his pocket, his posture slouched.

A car came and went, and it was nothing. Then another came, five minutes later, and slowed down. The driver rolled his window down and Mario went there and they caught a rap. It was even easier this time, knowing when to listen and what to say. He was busy selling the driver a couple of dimes, so he didn’t notice the old gray Toyota as it passed.

Mario did his business and the car drove away. He pocketed two twenties for a double dime and walked back to the corner and stood under the light. He put one hand in his pocket and jiggled the vials he had left. He looked furtively around the street.

Mario heard light footsteps behind him. Before he could turn, he felt something hard and metallic pressed against the base of his skull.

“Deion,” said a dry, raspy voice.

He didn’t hear the shot or anything else. The bullet blew his brains and some of his face out onto the street.