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“Will you give us a minute?” Robert asked.
Snakeskin Boots looked at his clunky chromed-up watch, and allowed as how he could do that.
“But I got a ’pointment over on Church Street, so you fellas need to hurry on n make up your minds.”
Robert and Lee walked to the rear of Robert’s Bel Air, and although they pitched their voices low
to keep Snakeskin Boots from hearing, when I tilted the bowl in their direction, I got most of it.
Robert was in favor of looking at some more places. Lee said he wanted this one. It would do fine for a
start.
“Lee, it’s a hole,” Robert said. “It’s throwin your . . .” Money away, probably.
Lee said something I couldn’t make out. Robert sighed and raised his hands in surrender. They
went back to Snakeskin Boots, who gave Lee’s hand a brief pump and praised the wisdom of his choice.
He launched into the Landlord Scripture: first month, last month, damage deposit. Robert stepped in
then, saying there would be no damage deposit until the walls were fixed and the new mattress was
installed.
“New mattress, sure,” Snakeskin Boots said. “And I’ll see that step fixed so the little woman don’t
turn her ankle. But if’n I fix them walls right off, I’d have to boost the rent by five a month.”
I knew from Al’s notes that Lee was going to take the place, and still I expected him to walk away
from this outrage. Instead, he took a limp wallet out of his back pocket and removed a thin sheaf of
bills. He counted most of them into his new landlord’s outstretched hand while Robert walked back
to his car, shaking his head in disgust. His eyes turned briefly to my house across the street, then
passed on, disinterested.
Snakeskin Boots flogged Lee’s hand again, then jumped into his Chrysler and drove off fast, leaving
a scrunch of dust behind.
One of the jump-rope girls came barreling up on a rusty scooter. “You movin into Rosette’s house,
mister?” she asked Robert.
“No, he is,” Robert said, and cocked a thumb at his brother.
She pushed her scooter to Lee and asked the man who was going to blow off the right side of Jack
Kennedy’s head if he had any kids.
“I’ve got a little girl,” Lee said. He put his hands on his knees so he could get down to her level.
“She purty?”
“Not as pretty as you, nor as big.”
“Can she jump rope?”
“Honey, she can’t even walk yet.” Can’t came out cain’t.
“Well bullpucky on her.” She scooted away in the direction of Winscott Road.
The two brothers turned toward the house. This muffled them a little, but when I cranked the
volume, I could still make out most of what they were saying.
“This . . . pig in a poke,” Robert told him. “When Marina sees it, she’ll be on you like flies on a
dog-turd.”
“I’ll . . . Rina,” Lee said. “But brother, if I don’t . . . from Ma and out of that little apartment, I’m
apt to kill her.”
“She can be a . . . but . . . loves you, Lee.” Robert walked a few steps toward the street. Lee joined
him, and their voices came through clear as a bell.
“I know it, but she can’t help herself. The other night when me n Rina’s goin at it, she hollers at us
from the foldout. She’s sleeping in the livin room, you know. ‘Take it easy on that, you two,’ she
hollers, ‘it’s too soon for another one. Wait until you can pay for the one you’ve got.’”
“I know it. She can be hard.”
“She keeps buyin things, brother. Says they’re for Rina, but shoves em up into my face.” Lee laughed
and walked back to the Bel Air. This time it was his eyes that skated across 2706, and it took all I had