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“Maybe a bit too much. But I plead the fifth.”
“Well, you’re not under oath,” I assure him, leaving the conversational door open in case he will tell me more.
“And I’d like to keep it that way.” Mateo grins back at me, but leaves it there.
Mission Billiards is in northeast Philadelphia. It’s a long windowless building that looks a lot like other smaller industrial buildings in the area. The row of motorcycles in front of the building says more about what kind of place it is than the half-lit neon sign above the door. I had planned to come alone if Mateo didn’t want to come with me. But I’m definitely glad he’s here with me, for more than one reason.
Mateo’s driver drops us off and Mateo offers me his hand as I get out of the car. This might annoy me if I didn’t love it every time he touches me.
The front door creaks and squeaks loudly as Mateo pulls it open. I’m almost immediately hit with the smell of stale beer, sweat, chalk and even cheap perfume. I hear the smack of pool balls breaking against each other, a radio droning in the background, and the noise from the group at the closest pool table as someone sinks what sounds like was a tricky shot.
It’s not too busy. It’s still early in the night. Only three of the tables are being played on. Just as many people are sitting at the bar across the wall. Almost all men, but a few women hanging off some of the guys. Almost every guy here is wearing a sleeveless leather vest with matching patches.
I hear the scrape of a bar stool on the floor.
“Ms. McKenna!”
I see Tamarius walking down the bar toward me. He’s a few inches taller than me now. The last time I saw him we were the same height. Last time I saw him he also had his hair short in a Caesar cut. Now it’s a bit longer on top, sticking up in twists with a fade below. It suits him. He looks like he’s grown up more than just four years. It reminds me how much of a kid he was when I worked with him before. He had barely turned 18.
“Tamarius,” I say, smiling. I reach out my hand to shake his.
“C’mon,” he says and slides my hand away and gives me a friendly hug.
When he pulls away from me, he’s looking at Mateo coming in behind me. I’m about to introduce him.
“What’s up, Mateo?”
“Alright, Tam?” Mateo responds as he shakes his hand.
“You two know each other?” I ask, but I feel like I should have known.
“Yeah,” Tamarius explains. “My mother’s married to Mateo’s cousin.”
“And you and Tam know each other?” Mateo asks me, but it’s Tamarius that answers.
“Ms. McKenna helped me out of that jam a few years ago. She’s the one that convinced the judge to forgo prison time if I joined the Merchant Marine.”
“That was you?” Mateo asks, grinning at me.
“It’s a small world,” I laugh.
We follow Tamarius to an empty booth.
“How have you been?” I ask him.
“Good, good,” he says. “Just got off a ship last month. It was a tanker running back and forth to Peru delivering heavy crude oil. I’ve been working in the engine room. Getting ready to get my ship electrician certification. But right now, I’m off for a few months. What’d you want to talk about? What brings you here?”
“You’ve probably heard about the shootout at the courthouse?” I ask.
Tamarius nods.
“I wanted to ask you if you knew anything about it. If you had any thoughts on who might have been involved.”
Tamarius looks toward Mateo. Mateo nods slightly. Then Tamarius begins to answer.
“Well, I can tell you the Wayward Disciples had nothing to do with it. We’re not that stupid. I also know it wasn’t the Warlocks. Or the Jackals,” Tamarius lists off. “No word of the job came by us either. So, I’m 99% sure it wasn’t any One Percenters.”
"One Percenters?” I ask.
