Read Online The Cut (Spero Lucas) by George P. Pelecanos - Free Book Online Page A

eased himself onto the stool on the other side of Lucas. Lucas noted, without saying so, that Marquis smelled nice.
    “Gentlemen,” said Marquis.
    “A beer for my friend,” said Waldron.
    “Bud Light,” said Marquis to the tender. “Wanna maintain my good looks.”
    “You do look tight,” said Lucas. “Where do you get an outfit like that?”
    “Nowhere you shop.”
    “Ali Baba wants to know who stole his shit.”
    “Ho!”
    “Gotta give you credit. I couldn’t get away with wearing a getup like that.”
    “Who don’t know
that?
”
    The bartender served Marquis his beer. The three veterans tapped bottles.
    “Sorry I’m late,” said Marquis. “Had to go out to Seven Locks and pick up my nephew. My sister’s son?”
    “What he do now?”
    “Possession with intent to distribute. His second arrest, so it might get serious. The boy stayed overnight ’cause I had to secure the bond. I’m hoping one night in that jail out there was enough to scare him. But who knows? Another baby gangster, thinks he knows somethin.”
    “They all do.”
    “And they all get caught. He had to pee in a cup every week since his last conviction. Told me he had that beat, too; something about a syringe of clean urine he taped under his nutsack. Like those parole people ain’t seen that trick. They nailed him for that and violated him, and then they gave him another chance. And now he blew that chance.”
    “How’s your sister?”
    “On her last nerve. I’m gonna stay on that boy now. Get him involved with my church.”
    Marquis would get a substantial disability check from the government for the rest of his life. He also had a business,traveling up to car auctions in Pennsylvania and making luxury auto purchases for buyers back in the D.C. area. The savings for the customer were substantial, and Marquis took a flat thousand-dollar fee. He spent part of his free time with community outreach programs, working with fellow members of his congregation, and the rest trying to snake women. At thirty-two, he had the need.
    “
I
could do some stuff at your church,” said Waldron. He was tapping the base of his beer bottle on the bar. On his left forearm were a multitude of “dots,” shrapnel bits embedded under his skin. He had added many other dots in ink. Both his biceps were inked in tiger stripes.
    “Like what?” said Marquis.
    “Help out, somethin,” said Waldron.
    “What about your job?”
    “I can’t stand that security guard thing I got. First of all, there’s that stupid uniform. And they gave me a can to hang on my belt—can you believe it? The shit postmen spray at dogs.”
    “We can’t pay,” said Marquis. “But we can always use help.”
    Waldron nodded, a familiar look of disappointment on his face. He stared ahead, then threw his head back and killed his beer. He signaled the bartender and was served another. Then he patted his breast pocket, where a pack of Marlboro Reds showed through the fabric of his cheap white shirt.
    “I’m gonna go have a smoke,” said Waldron.
    He picked up his fresh beer off the bar. They watched him exit through the side door to the backyard.
    “You hang with him much?” said Marquis.
    “Nah,” said Lucas. “Bobby’s got a girlfriend.”
    “For real?”
    “She’s got the fire down below.”
    “Like in the song.”
    “He’s there if I need something,” said Lucas.
    “He still goin to those gun shows?”
    “I believe he is. He makes a lot of interesting contacts.”
    “You can buy damn near anything from those folks.”
    “Seems that way.”
    “Your man sure is all wound up,” said Marquis.
    “He doesn’t know whether to shit or go blind. In the Korangal he got up every morning, took orders, and knew exactly what he was supposed to do. Here he’s got
nothin
to do. You know what I mean?”
    “Yes.”
    It was a common problem for many of the vets. Overseas, in the thick of it, they talked about going home. What they would do when they got back, the