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Billy upends the bottle and hands it back to the old man, who takes it and cracks Billy across the side of the head. Billy rocks back. While he’s still dizzy, the old man plants a boot on his chest and yanks out the fork. Billy howls again and falls forward onto his arms, cursing at the dirt. When he’s done, he looks at Daja. She’s on her feet.
“Get up,” she says.
He scrambles to his feet, knowing he’s fucked up.
Daja turns to me and says, “You too, slick.”
“You just told me to sit down.”
“Get up!”
I get up.
“The two of you are going to shake hands in a minute,” she says. “But, Billy, since you started the fight, you owe Pitts something. What are you going to put up?”
“I don’t have anything,” he says like a whiny kid.
“You know the rules. You better find something.”
He goes to the saddlebags on his bike and comes back with something cupped in his hand. When he hands it to me he says, “Don’t tell the others.”
It’s a Saint Christopher medal. Protector of travelers and children. I doubt that he knows that. He just saw the little kid and the old man and liked it. Probably thinks it’s Santa Claus. I wink and put the medal in my pocket before anyone can see it.
Daja says, “Now, Pitts. You give him something.”
I pat my pockets. There isn’t much there. I don’t want to give him the butcher knife because it might piss off PTA Mom and I have policy against pissing off women with that many knives. And I’m sure not going to give him my Colt. I reach into a pants pocket and find a thousand-dollar poker chip. I put it on my thumb and flip it to him. He catches it and looks it over.
“Don’t spend it all in one place,” I say.
He holds it up and looks at me, apparently satisfied with the trade and that I didn’t rat him and Saint Christopher out.
“Now shake,” says Daja.
I put out my hand and he wraps his big mitt around it. It’s a fast, limp shake. He’s not fucking with me. Now that I know his secret, he just wants to get things over with.
We both look at Daja.
“Now both of you sit down and no more of this shit tonight. You make us look bad in front of the havoc. People look up to us. They’re afraid of us, and that’s how it should be if we’re going to take care of the Magistrate.”
She looks at me.
“And that’s job number one for us. Everyone is expendable. Except him. Understand?”
“I got it.”
“Good. Now everyone eat your fucking dinner.”
Billy picks up his spilled plate and goes to get more food. Everyone else eats in silence for a while. In a few minutes Johnny says, “A video-store clerk, eh?”
“Owner,” I say. “Completely different thing.”
“Well, that explains it, then.”
Gisco signs something.
“He wants to know your favorite movie,” says the twin with the green and gray eyes.
I look over at him.
