Gumbo: A Celebration of African American Writing Part 29

"Up until a few days ago, n.o.body around the pool hall had seen you for months," Scamz said.

"My job was keeping me busy."

"Thought One Time might've shackled you down and had you on the gray goose heading out to Chino."

"I don't do prisons." One Time was a nickname for the police. I yawned. "Like I said, I was working."

"Was?"

"Got laid off. Everything came to a screeching halt when the commercial side of the company stopped producing and the aeros.p.a.ce side picked up. Been out looking for another j-o-b."

Sounded like he took a draw from his cigarette, then blew the smoke out before he spoke again. "Why do you keep wasting your talents on a nine-to-five?"

Makes me content, that's all that matters. Don't need to be rich to be happy."

"What's the word, any luck?"

I told him I had called my old gig to check my status. Over twenty technicians with more time than I had were waiting to get called back. No one had gotten called back in six months and a few thousand more were getting kicked to the curb. The unemployment office told me to check back in a week or two, which was the same robotic line they ran on the twenty people in front of me.

I'd been hitting a lot of career fairs. Hit one down at the Bonaventure and put in apps with everybody from Aeros.p.a.ce Corporation to Sears. Never seen that many borderline-bankrupt people coming in from all over California and Nevada and Seattle looking for a job. After that I'd flown up to Oakland, hit the Alameda County Conference and Training Center, but five thousand out-of-work people beat me there. Most were in a line that circled the block by sunrise.

I told Scamz, "North or south, ain't n.o.body hiring."

"There's a synchronous world recession, especially in the high-tech world."

"Translate."

"No jobs out there. Jobs were already scarce, and those terrorists exacerbated the situation."

I said, "I got an interview next week."

"Another widget factory?"

"Labor gig. Slinging boxes on a truck from dusk to dawn."

"You're overqualified for that kind of work."

"A man with no job ain't overqualified for any kinda work."

"Spoken like a true member of the unemployed."

"You got jokes."

"Seems like a lot of people have been humbled."

I cleared my throat. "They're offering twelve an hour, but I know they have a stack of apps thicker than your little black book."

He laughed at that. "What're your ends looking like until that comes through?"

"They ain't looking. Almost as blind as Helen Keller."

"Your economic recession is in full effect."

"Yep. Seems like the world is f.u.c.ked up."

We said a few words about the war that was going on, on how it had done a number on people both emotionally and financially.

Scamz said, " 'Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically.' "

"Shakespeare?"

"D. H. Lawrence. The opening lines of Lady Chatterley's Lover."

I yawned. "A regular Nostradamus."

"Come see me today. I got a few things lined up."

"Can't. I'm a legit man."

Scamz asked, "You heard from Jackson?"

I met Jackson a few years back through Scamz. They were the best of friends when I came along. But Jackson had been off the grift for almost two years. A good woman and a steady job had him on the straight and narrow.

I said, "Yeah. I've been hanging with him almost every day."

"What you two got going on?"

"We've been teaming up and looking for jobs together."

"So, he's getting back on the hustle?"

I debated telling Jackson's business but Scamz wasn't the type to spread the word about someone else's misfortunes. And nine times out of ten, he already knew what was going on.

I said, "His ex is suing him for back child support."

"Sabrina slapped Jackson with a lawsuit?"

"Yep. She filed papers and claimed Jackson never gave her a dime."

"I don't believe that. He cared about his kids if nothing else."

"He showed me the papers from the district attorney."

We said a few more things about that.

In the end Scamz told me, "Be careful where you stick your d.i.c.k."

I laughed at those sage words. He laughed too. They were laughs of disbelief.

We chitchatted about a few other people from our little clandestine world. A few were on lockdown, a few more were about to get out. A couple had died along the way.

"Big Slim told me you were down at Eight Ball gambling with Nazario," Scamz said.

Eight Ball was a place people went when they were desperate for cash. Trouble and money was always down there. You just had to outrun the trouble to get the money.

"Yeah," I said. "That psycho was so mad he lost his mind."

"Then he didn't lose much."

"He wanted to pay me on the spot."

"People say he made a scene."

"Big time. He made his wife give me her wedding ring to cover his debt."

Scamz said, "He hates to lose, especially in front of a crowd."

"I p.a.w.ned the ring. Got five hundred."

"You know he's looking for you. He wants a rematch so he can get that ring back. Heard he's been down at the pool hall at least three times a day trying to find you."

"Kinda figured that. That's why I ain't been back down to the pool hall."

"If you're sweating over chump change, you must need some economic relief."

My eyes went to my pine dresser. My bills were over there, piled up next to a stack of job rejection postcards. Frustration was bringing out the wolf in me.

I told Scamz, "Just need something to hold me over until one of these jobs come through."

He said, "Come see me. You're a good worker. I could use your help."

I paused. The jury in my mind went out to make a decision. "I'll pa.s.s. I have a few job interviews around the corner."

"Then come make some ends so you can take your woman out and have a good time."

"Me no got no woman. Got my eye on this waitress at Ed Debevic's."

"You ever stopped her yet?"

"Not yet. She has an L.A. face and an Oakland boot that won't quit. Pretty much out of my league."

"How can a waitress be out of anybody's league?"

"True."

"Be a man at all times. Never let a woman scare you. Never."

Scamz was working my disposition in his direction word by word, phrase by phrase.

"Either way," he said, "it's hard to get a woman being broke."

Scamz wasn't lying. L.A. had its own mentality and it cost to be the boss out here. Whenever I hit Atlas Bar and Grill it was five bucks to park, twenty to get in, and close to ten bucks for one drink. If I met a honey, triple that drinking budget. Breakfast at Roscoe's would add another twenty. If I got lucky, a box of condoms would cost another five. Trojans were the cheapest thing on the list. Not using one was the most expensive thing on the list.

Scamz said, "p.u.s.s.y and money, Dante. Got money, you can get p.u.s.s.y. Got p.u.s.s.y-"

"You can get money."

We chuckled at his phrase.

My eyes closed when I thought about that waitress, saw her dimples, heard her mature voice, even could see her hips when she did her sensual stroll, and wondered what she was doing right now.

A second later I exhaled. "Is this hot or cold?"

Hot meant difficult. Cold meant smooth, minimal problems.

I could hear Scamz smile when I asked that. His easy words had worked me toward his team.

He replied, "Easy rent money."

"Let's be up front. I'm not down for nothing long term."

"What do I have to do to get you to reconsider?"

"You can't."

He didn't say anything for a few seconds. He did that when his mind was in overdrive. Sometimes I thought he had so many thoughts he had to shut down to keep from overloading.

Scamz said, "You know how to find me."

We left it at that. He wasn't going to give me the specifics, not over the wire.

I hung up.

3:41 A.M.

I dialed another number. Jackson answered on the first ring.

I said, "You're up?"

"Yeah. What's up Cool Hand?"

"Scamz called. He's back and it sounds like he has a few things going on."

Jackson hesitated. "Yeah, Dante. We can check on those interviews after I leave court."

I understood why he was talking in code. I said, "Robin must be over."

"Right."