AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Crap, I should have thought of that,” Frisky said. “I’ve heard of Shanghai Mike. Mining. He’d be good at mining.”
“It’s that fucking uniform, ducks. Kills brain cells. The old gang isn’t the same without you, you know. Why you left Our Lady of Lexington, I’ll never know.”
“Ambition, Yo-Yo. Self-improvement. You should try it sometime. There’s more to the world than nose lightning.”
“Tough life is my life, yo.”
“I’ll throw a couple of bills your way if Shanghai meets my price.”
Yo-Yo shrugged. “Ain’t enough money to buy what I want.”
“You just don’t get the right catalogues. See you in a couple hours. We’ll have a slice and a juice, just like old times.”
They exchanged an elaborate set of pats and touches, hands fisting, opening, and hooking too fast for the eye to easily follow. Then we were off again.
The truck paused, with my eyehole revealing nothing but a dirty alley smelling of cats and garbage, for some minutes while Frisky and the boy dragged something out of the way. I tested my bonds once more, but they were secure as ever. I felt rather bloodless and sapped.
The truck inched forward another block, and I felt it bump over an obstruction. Then we were in some kind of empty back lot, with brick buildings of various heights presenting their unadorned backsides to us. We pulled up at a loading dock.
There we waited for some time, Frisky and the boy taking turns going in through a small back door. Once I heard the boy warn off a vagrant asking for a drop of change, then some kittens mewing as they passed under the truck.
Finally, Frisky, flanked by two big men in blue woolen overcoats, opened the truck.
“Good big Grog, right?” one asked me.
I grinned. “Good big Grog. No trouble.”
“That’s the spirit,” Frisky said. “Stand up, King. Check out that thumping pole, guys. You might sell him to the zoo in Chicago.”
I stood, and after some more words they released me, still shackled at the hands, my legs in irons. But it felt good to be out of the truck, even if my only vista was of a dirty back lot in Lexington.
I took care with my footfalls as I was led around to the stairs leading up to the loading dock and back door; it seemed sewage service was sporadic in Lexington. A noisome stream of goo ran down a gutter flanking the building. It washed around a dead cat.
I’m told I really missed something at Shanghai Mike’s, kept to the back “tanks” on my visit. The vintage signage, the art glass, the vast selection of beers and liquors, and the plump, companionable females, the cheerful serving staff with their famously long hair and white teeth. But it was a honey trap, designed to catch young, unwary legworm ranchers and refugees dazzled by the bright lights after a long stretch in open country. All the bar’s well-groomed workers and paraphernalia were there to put unwary customers at ease, and ease likely candidates into one of the bare little “tanks” in back.
A woman with half her hair shaved off, and also missing an eyebrow opposite the shaving, took my temperature (after wiping the thermometer on her dirty plastic apron) and tried to assess my blood pressure, but she did not have the kind of cuff that would go around my arm. I savored the small victory against the system here.
“I’m not sure what’s normal for this color Grog,” she told Shanghai Mike when he came in, followed by Frisky.
Shanghai Mike wore a robe of gleaming silk, elaborately stitched with fantastic-looking creatures, and odd wooden platform shoes that clattered on the floor.
He looked at my neck and pulled back the laborer’s belt. “Fris, Fris. Are you kidding me? What happened to him?”
Nothing shamed Frisky, who snapped his fingers and tugged at an ear. “I was hoping you wouldn’t get close up. Lots of guys are afraid of him. I’m not altogether sure about the injuries, but he’s healthy enough and healing.”
“He’s big all right. I’ve seen a few of his kind over the years but never dealt with one. They’re a cut above. The ones I did see were doing bodyguard work.”
“Tell him, King,” Frisky said. “Tell him what you can do.”
“Yes,” I said. “Me strong. Me smart, obey all. Drive good. Clean good. Make good. Me can some assembly required. All diagram good.”
“Memorize good, more like,” Shangahi Mike said. “What the heck. He looks sound enough, and I’ve heard these guys are good diggers and builders. A thou, and another thou if I can sell him over the phone. I hate greasing up buyers. Get a picture, Tongue.”
The woman with half a head of hair extracted a tiny silvery camera, and the flash popped, lighting up a room better left dark.
“Five thou and spare me the details,” Frisky said.
“For a wounded Grog? Tell it to the Golems, Fris.”
