Nestor’s desk, an open padlock hooked into the last link. I unhooked the padlock, picked up the chain, and came around the desk. “Oh, now you’re gonna be a big tough guy,” he said. “Now you’re gonna scare me. Big tough guy. Now you’re gonna threaten.” I scooped him out of his chair, mashed him one-handed against the wall, and wound the chain around his neck. His little hat fell to the floor. I slipped my fingers in between the chain and the side of his neck, gripped the chain, and twisted.Nestor made a squeaking noise back in his throat, and then he made no noise at all except for the scuffling of his feet against the floor and the clacking of his teeth as he opened and closed his jaws. His bulging eyes didn’t leave mine. They seemed to be searching for some sign that I was somehow kidding. I loosened the chain and said, “I want my pay, Nestor.”
“You’re crazy!” he croaked. His voice whistled in his throat. “Crazy!”
I tightened the chain again and he was quiet. He was staring into my eyes, and then he was staring past them. His little belly heaved convulsively and his fingers scratched at my chest. “I want my pay,” I said.
I loosened the chain again.
“Crazy! Crazy!” he whispered.
“Two-hundred and four dollars,” I said, towing him over to the desk by the chain. He scrabbled in a drawer and pulled out a checkbook. I took it and dropped it back in the drawer. “Checks can be stopped, Nestor.”
He pulled his wallet from his breast pocket and threw it on the desk. He began to curse me in his whistling, broken voice. I tightened up a little and he stopped. “Count it for me,” I said.
He had a hundred and thirteen dollars. I put it in my pocket. “All I got!” he shrieked. “ž’S all I got!”
“Ninety-one dollars more, Nestor. Halfway there. Where’s the petty cash?”
He jerked open a desk drawer and threw a small lock-box on the desk. He pulled out a small key, unlocked it with trembling fingers, and thrust the box toward me. It skidded off the desk and spilled onto the floor.
“Pick it up,” I told him.
He got down on his hands and knees and began scooping the money up and flinging it on the desk and chair, cursing me all the while in Spanish and Englishand maybe a few other languages. He was terrified of me, but he couldn’t seem to stop cursing me. I knew how he felt. I let go of the chain and it slithered to the floor and landed with a clunk. I didn’t see any singles on the desk, so I picked up four twenties and three fives and put them in my pocket. “Okay,” I said. “Now we’re quits.”
He just sat there in a scatter of money, holding his throat and weeping. I’d expected a bald spot under the hat, but he had a nice head of hair. I set his hat back on his head. “See you, Nestor,” I said.
He didn’t look at me as I left. He was busy weeping. I’m not sure he knew I’d been there anymore. I’m not sure he remembered what had hurt him.
3
Reece
Back then I lived at the Harmon Court Motel, out on Harmon, near Paige. The place was right behind the Sun-Glo billboard, which was something of a local landmark. The Sun-Glo Girl was seventy-five feet long and lay around all day on an elbow and a hip. Her job was to lie there, smiling and brushing back her hair. From the front she was an awfully healthy-looking girl, but from my window all you could see was the plywood back of her, propped up by iron struts. It was still a pretty healthy profile. The Court was usually half-empty, but it didn’t cost much to keep open, and I guess tearing the place down was more work than somebody was in the mood to do. My room was the last one past the pool. It was one of two deluxe rooms that had a kitchenette in the corner, and I got a percentage off my rent in exchange forhandyman work. That was the theory, anyway.
When I got home from Nestor’s office, I sorted the money out on the dresser: twenties, tens, fives, and ones. Two hundred and eight dollars. I
“You’re crazy!” he croaked. His voice whistled in his throat. “Crazy!”
I tightened the chain again and he was quiet. He was staring into my eyes, and then he was staring past them. His little belly heaved convulsively and his fingers scratched at my chest. “I want my pay,” I said.
I loosened the chain again.
“Crazy! Crazy!” he whispered.
“Two-hundred and four dollars,” I said, towing him over to the desk by the chain. He scrabbled in a drawer and pulled out a checkbook. I took it and dropped it back in the drawer. “Checks can be stopped, Nestor.”
He pulled his wallet from his breast pocket and threw it on the desk. He began to curse me in his whistling, broken voice. I tightened up a little and he stopped. “Count it for me,” I said.
He had a hundred and thirteen dollars. I put it in my pocket. “All I got!” he shrieked. “ž’S all I got!”
“Ninety-one dollars more, Nestor. Halfway there. Where’s the petty cash?”
He jerked open a desk drawer and threw a small lock-box on the desk. He pulled out a small key, unlocked it with trembling fingers, and thrust the box toward me. It skidded off the desk and spilled onto the floor.
“Pick it up,” I told him.
He got down on his hands and knees and began scooping the money up and flinging it on the desk and chair, cursing me all the while in Spanish and Englishand maybe a few other languages. He was terrified of me, but he couldn’t seem to stop cursing me. I knew how he felt. I let go of the chain and it slithered to the floor and landed with a clunk. I didn’t see any singles on the desk, so I picked up four twenties and three fives and put them in my pocket. “Okay,” I said. “Now we’re quits.”
He just sat there in a scatter of money, holding his throat and weeping. I’d expected a bald spot under the hat, but he had a nice head of hair. I set his hat back on his head. “See you, Nestor,” I said.
He didn’t look at me as I left. He was busy weeping. I’m not sure he knew I’d been there anymore. I’m not sure he remembered what had hurt him.
3
Reece
Back then I lived at the Harmon Court Motel, out on Harmon, near Paige. The place was right behind the Sun-Glo billboard, which was something of a local landmark. The Sun-Glo Girl was seventy-five feet long and lay around all day on an elbow and a hip. Her job was to lie there, smiling and brushing back her hair. From the front she was an awfully healthy-looking girl, but from my window all you could see was the plywood back of her, propped up by iron struts. It was still a pretty healthy profile. The Court was usually half-empty, but it didn’t cost much to keep open, and I guess tearing the place down was more work than somebody was in the mood to do. My room was the last one past the pool. It was one of two deluxe rooms that had a kitchenette in the corner, and I got a percentage off my rent in exchange forhandyman work. That was the theory, anyway.
When I got home from Nestor’s office, I sorted the money out on the dresser: twenties, tens, fives, and ones. Two hundred and eight dollars. I
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