Read Online Our Man in the Dark by Rashad Harrison - Free Book Online Page B

street.
    â€œI didn’t know you worked so fast,” I say, once we are inside.
    He doesn’t respond.
    â€œI’m sorry to say, I don’t have your money yet . . . but soon.”
    Count interlocks his fingers and gives his knuckles a loud crack. “Maybe it’s a setup, I say to myself. Maybe I go in there and somebody’s waiting for me. Maybe you told this somebody that he shouldn’t be so welcoming.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and withdraws the envelope intended for Gant. “Maybe there’s a finger inside this envelope and it’s pointing at me. The way you been eyeing my girl—this would be the perfect chance to get me out of the way. But no, that ain’t your style. First you have to make use of your enemies, then you get rid of them. For you it’s more fun that way. So forgive me for invading your fucking privacy by taking a peek.”
    â€œThat’s fine, Count. I understand. A man in your position should take precautions. I hope your fears have been abated.”
    â€œâ€˜Forget about the money,’” he reads. “‘They’re on to us.’” He folds the letter down the middle and looks at me. “I really start thinking now,” he says. “Was Little Man putting pressure on somebody and now he’s backing off? No, that can’t be it. ’Cause then where do I fit? Then I realize,
no
, somebody is putting the screws to
him.
You’re trying to convince somebody that the man they answer to wants to call it off. But that’s your mistake. You don’t really know how their game is played. Whoever they are, this probably ain’t their style. You’re just pointing the finger at yourself. ‘Forget about the money’—man, you been watching too manymovies.”
    He’s right, and he may have saved me from embarrassment. What the hell was I thinking? The letter was lacking in so many aspects, but above all, in credibility and authenticity. I have no idea how communists and homosexuals conspire with each other.
    â€œSo why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” asks Count.
    I struggle with the idea of telling him about the money and Gant. I’m not sure what to do, but that lasts only briefly.
    â€œI stole a bit of money from work. Now my queer boss is putting some pressure on me.”
    â€œQueer?”
    â€œYes. Communist too.”
    â€œNo shit. A queer. How much?”
    â€œTwenty.” I’ve overstated the amount that has me on tilt, but I think I know where Count is headed.
    â€œGoddamn. Either I’m right about you or I’m really fucking wrong.”
    â€œThey want the money back. They don’t know it’s me for certain, but they are beginning to look my way.”
    â€œThey already got the cops involved?”
    â€œCertainly. That’s why they were in the alley the other night. They wanted to bring me in for questioning.”
    â€œYou cooperate? Make a deal? Tell them you’d get the goods on somebody big if they’d look the other way?”
    â€œOf course not. I played dumb.”
    Count looks out of the window and lets his rough voice leak out. “Exactly, motherfucker—you
played
dumb.”
    â€œLook, the money wasn’t exactly clean to begin with.”
    â€œOkay. Now I see. You needed a dirty hand to give it a wash. What happened to the money?”
    â€œSpent some of it on women . . . at your place . . . so you already have a cut.”
    â€œHey, man, you can keep the guilt trip. Ain’t no such thing as free pussy.”
    â€œThen there’s the car, of course.”
    â€œGuess that explains the new Caddy. Hell, even I don’t have a Cadillac,” he says almost to himself. “What’s your story, man? How does an accountant get himself in this kind of shit? You think I’d be doing this if I’d gone to college?”
    I don’t have an answer for him,