Black Dogs Read online

  “Okay. I'll get it.”

  Mancini stared at Keith and the room went quiet. The sounds of Spanish music and laughter cut through Mancini's cheap office.

  “What the fuck are they doing out there?” Mancini mumbled. He opened the door leading to the garage. The music from the garage shook the shelves in the office.

  “Turn that shit down, you assholes, or I'll have every fucking one of you deported!” Mancini screamed. He coughed violently. “You hear me, amigo?”

  He slammed the door and sat back down. He and Keith went over the rest of the list. There was a VW Bug that belonged to a girl we went to school with and a new van owned by one of Keith's neighbors. The husband brought it in to Mancini to set up with JBL speakers, a subwoofer and a Pioneer eight-track. Mancini wanted it all back.

  “Oh—and I wanted to grab that money from you for last time,” Keith said. Whenever Keith asked Mancini for money he made it sound like the thought had just occurred to him even though he and Mancini both knew it was coming. He used to follow this approach with “Is that cool?” but realized it left things open for Mancini's bullshit so he dropped that part.

  “What do I owe you again? One-fifty?”

  Mancini scrunched up his face and flipped through his binder.

  “No. It was three hundred,” Keith said.

  “If you say so,” Mancini said.

  He tried to sound like he didn't believe Keith. He wanted to play it off like he was being taken advantage of. He knew how much he owed Keith. No one ripped off Mancini that easily.

  He cracked a safe under his desk, pulled out a silver gun, a shoe box wrapped in duct tape and a large folder and placed them on the desk. Then he sat bent over counting money where we couldn't see. He handed the cash to Keith, who stuffed the money in his pocket without counting it, and we bolted from the office and down the empty hallway.

  “What do you say, man?” Keith said, climbing into the front seat of my car. “Can we swing by my place first?”

  “You got five bucks?”

  “Shit.” He grinned. He pulled the wad of cash from his front pocket. “Take ten.”

  I wasn't happy about it but didn't feel like arguing. It was too hot. I stuffed the ten into my pocket. The car struggled in the heat before the engine kicked over with a blast of sweltering air in our faces. Sabbath thundered from the speakers. The car was a piece of shit, but thanks to Keith the stereo sounded fucking great.

  THREE

  TIME I MET EMILY WAS IN KEITH'S KITCHEN. IT WAS LAST YEAR AND KEITH'S CHRISTMAS PARTY WAS STUMBLING TO AN END. TWO OF KEITH'S COWORKERS SAT ON THE FLOOR IN FRONT OF THE COUCH PASSING A JOINT AND STARING AT THE CHRISTMAS TREE, WHICH LAY ON ITS SIDE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE LIVING ROOM. A MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE RERUN BLARED FROM THE TV AND GIGGLING CAME FROM A BEDROOM UPSTAIRS. KEITH SLUMPED OVER THE KITCHEN TABLE WITH HIS HEAD DOWN, A WARM BEER IN HIS HAND. I WOBBLED ACROSS THE KITCHEN AND CRUNCHED ACROSS A BAG OF POTATO CHIPS ON THE FLOOR. ALEX FOUND ME BENT OVER IN THE FRIDGE DIGGING FOR ANOTHER BEER.

  “These girls want to get out of here. Can we give them a ride?”

  I shut the door and tried to stand upright, swaying a bit. Alex leaned in the doorway. Two girls, a blonde and a brunette, whispered to each other behind him.

  “We sure can,” I said. “Let's go.”

  We piled into my car. Tina's blond hair, blown out Farrah Fawcett-style, bobbed in the back window as she talked loudly with Alex. Emily sat up front playing with her straight black hair and didn't say anything until Tina teased her about being shy. She turned back and told Tina to fuck off then grinned a bit before turning back to stare out the window. She was young and gawky, all legs, in giant platform sandals and tiny denim shorts. She opened the glove box and dug through a pile of eight-track tapes.

  “Black Sabbath. Paranoid. Master of Reality. Do you have anything other than Black Sabbath?”

  “Not really,” I answered.

  “That's pretty weird.”

  “I like Sabbath. What's weird about that?”

  “Are you some kind of satanist?” She grinned. “You're not going to sacrifice us, are you?”

  “Nope. We only sacrifice virgins,” I joked. She laughed loudly and fidgeted with the radio dial. She stopped when she heard “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” playing on WKTK.

  We drove to Tina's house in Roland Park, winding down tree-lined roads near the Baltimore Country Club. I'd only been to this part of Baltimore once. It was a night me and Alex drove around casing houses, looking for one set up to rob. A suspicious cop pulled us over but let us go. After that, we decided the area was too risky and never came back.

  I turned off the lights as we pulled up along a low rock wall outside Tina's house. Alex and I lingered back by the car as the girls stumbled across the manicured lawn. We weren't sure what to do. These situations were like special forces operations. Me and Alex had crawled in bedroom windows, crept up stairs and even used ladders to help chicks escape from their parents. Emily and Tina opened the front door.

  “Get in here before the neighbors see you,” Tina whispered from the front step.

  Tina's parents were out of town. They had driven to Florida with her brothers for Christmas while Tina finished school. Tina's grandfather was dropping her at the airport tomorrow to fly down and meet up with the rest of her family. Emily was spending the night.

  Our tactics changed once me and Alex realized we had the house to ourselves. The new plan was to divide and conquer, and we laughed as we ran up the lawn toward the giant house. Inside, a winding staircase swooped upward and a balcony overlooked the marble foyer lit by a glittering chandelier. Tina led us down the hallway to the kitchen, where Alex flung open the refrigerator door. He grabbed two cans of beer and handed one to me.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Tina asked. “My dad is going to know those are missing.”

  The beer in Alex's hand hissed as he popped it open.

  “Oops. Too late.” He grinned.

  “You guys!” Tina whined, but she was too drunk to really care.

  Soon Alex and Tina were upstairs in her room while Emily and I sat on the floor in Tina's brother's room. I stared at the giant aquarium in front of me.

  “What's in the aquarium?”

  “You don't want to know,” Emily said, taking the beer out of my hand.

  “Why?” I asked. A chill went through my body. “Is that a fucking snake?”

  She took a chug on my beer then nodded. I hated snakes.

  “What kind is it?”

  “Some kind of python,” she said with a shrug. “He feeds it mice. It's disgusting.”

  I forced myself to look away and spotted a row of crates filled with records along one wall. For a rich kid, Tina's brother had great taste in music. The record collection was killer—Alice Cooper, Bowie, The Faces. He even had Hendrix's Band of Gypsys. I dug through crates, ignoring Emily, until she let out a dramatic sigh, pulled out Eric Clapton and handed it to me.

  “Here. Put this on,” she said, pushing the record toward me.

  “No thanks.”

  “Why not?” she slurred.

  “I'm not into white-boy boogie rock.”

  “Oh, you know what? Screw you.”

  “Oh, come on.” I grinned. “You know it's soulless shit.”

  She was climbing into the bed and not really listening. I put on the Stones' Between the Buttons and passed her a beer. She giggled and rolled her eyes as she stretched out. I wondered what she was laughing at when “Let's Spend the Night Together” started and I realized how badly I had screwed up.

  “Oh yeah. Sorry about that.” I grinned again. “Try not to read too much into it.”

  “No problem.” She giggled coolly, sipping her beer. I lay down next to her and by “Ruby Tuesday” we were making out. I slipped my hand up her shirt and kissed her neck but she was a dead fish. No response. She must have figured that rather than stop me and give me a chance to talk her into anything she'd just freeze me out. I knew how t
o get a response. I'd slide my hand down between her legs and wait for her to grab my wrist and stop me. I groped in the dark, searching for some boundaries. I'd been shut down. Alex definitely figured this one out and stuck me with the dead end again.

  The record was over but Tina's hysterical moans shattered any awkward silence. The bed in the next room thundered as Tina groaned in no particular rhythm. It seemed to last forever. Emily fought back a smile as we kissed. I broke from her and pushed the hair out of my eyes.

  “Goddamn. You might need to go check on your friend.”

  This made her laugh. I flipped the record over and realized the booze had worn me out. I felt heavy and spaced out. Back in bed I decided to give up on her. We lay side by side listening to “Who's Been Sleeping Here” until she passed out.

  When I was sure Emily was asleep I slipped out of bed, put my pants on and crept down the hallway. The door to Tina's bedroom dragged along thick carpeting as I pushed it open. Posters of the Stones and Led Zeppelin lined the walls and a glass bong sat on the dresser. In the bed, Alex lay on his side with his bare back to me, one arm flung across Tina. She snored loudly with black eyeliner smeared under her eyes. I poked Alex.

  “Wake up, man.”

  He jerked awake and squinted at me in the dark.

  “What?”

  “Come on. Get up.”

  Alex watched Tina, careful not to wake her, as he worked himself out of the tangle of sheets. I handed him his pants and he stumbled into them as we snuck from the room. He stopped me in the hallway.

  “Are we leaving?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “But look at this place. She's loaded. Let's check it out.”

  “Are you fucking serious?” he asked. “These chicks are pretty cool. You want to rob them?”

  “It's no big deal. We take a few pieces of jewelry. Her mother won't miss it.”

  Alex rubbed his eyes.

  “Shit,” he whispered. “You're right. Good thinking.”

  Down the hallway, we slipped into Tina's parents' bedroom and turned on a light by the bed. Alex dug through a wooden jewelry box and picked over the rings, holding a few to the light, before stuffing a couple into his pocket. I found a roll of cash in an old film canister in the top of the closet and grabbed a man's watch that I later gave to my father as a Christmas gift.

  “Damn, man,” Alex whispered. “They're going to know it was us.”

  “So what?” I fired back. “Then they'll have to tell Tina's parents that they had us over and they aren't going to do that. So even if they figure it out they can't do anything about it.”

  Alex jerked open a dresser drawer and knocked over a few framed pictures of Tina and her family. I pulled my head out of the closet and put one finger to my lips.

  After we picked over everything, we padded down the hallway. Emily lay curled up in a ball facing the wall in Tina's brother's bed. I stripped down to my boxers and slipped into bed next to her.

  In the morning I woke up alone. Alex talked loudly down in the kitchen and the girls laughed at anything he said. I dressed, then trudged down the carpeted stairs and sat at the table. The girls made breakfast and I didn't say much as everyone ate. I wasn't hungover yet but it was on the way. When we finished, Emily cleaned up while Tina brought down their luggage. I heard her scream from upstairs.

  “Holy shit!”

  I was sure that Tina had figured out what Alex and I had stolen during the night. My hangover hit full force and I felt sweaty and nauseous. I eyed my car sitting outside in the street. Emily stopped scrubbing a plate and yelled up the stairs to Tina.

  “What's wrong?”

  Tina stumbled down the stairs with a giant suitcase and stuck her head into the kitchen. Her eyes were huge with panic.

  “It's almost eleven,” she gasped. “My grandpa is going to be here any minute.”

  This sent the girls scrambling to clean up, cram things into the luggage, unplug the coffeepot, clean out the refrigerator and double-check that all the doors and windows were locked. Alex and I sat at the table. I lay my head down, forehead in my hand. Alex drank a cup of coffee and sat cocked back in the chair with his shoes on the edge of the table. He pulled a cigarette from a pack, lit the end with a silver lighter from a bowl on the counter, pocketed the lighter and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

  “Alex, can you put this key in the mailbox?” Tina asked. She tossed a silver key to him.

  “You know that isn't safe,” he said. The tone was preachy and concerned without a trace of threat. “Someone could find it and clean the place out.”

  “It's for Nancy next door. She's going to feed my brother's snake.”

  “Will do,” Alex said with a wink.

  Emily and I said good-bye. I promised to call her. Tina and Alex made out like lovers on a sinking ship. Me and Alex passed Grandpa as we pulled out of the cul-de-sac. He glared at us with a look that said he knew exactly where we were coming from even though he arrived too late to prove it. I stared at him from behind my dark black sunglasses. Sorry, you old fucker.

  Alex unloaded two fistfuls of gold jewelry from the pockets of his jeans and dumped them in his lap.

  “We're never going back there again.” Alex laughed as we rounded the corner.

  “Yeah, we are,” I told him. “They left a key in the mailbox.”

  Now I sat at the kitchen table at Keith's and stared at a cockroach as it climbed across a dirty pan and into an empty Hormel chili can. Keith's mom, Suzy, leaned against the counter, clutching her pink bathrobe closed with one hand. She was in her forties and still looked pretty good, tiny and tan with bleached-out hair. She never seemed to change out of her pink bathrobe except to go to work at the dry cleaners.

  Keith came downstairs, freshly showered. He stood in the middle of the kitchen and tied a folded-up bandanna around his head to hold down his long, soaking wet hair.

  “You look like an idiot,” Suzy said.

  “Shut up,” Keith said, straightening the headband. “I think it looks cool.”

  Suzy rolled her eyes and pulled a drag off a long cigarette.

  “Christ. You look more like your father every day.”

  We couldn't argue. None of us had ever seen Keith's father. Keith's mom had always been single. His entire life Keith had put up with a string of Suzy's shitty boyfriends. They ranged from an accountant who Keith hated to a stock car racer who Keith loved.

  “Go back upstairs,” Keith told her. He glared at her from the corner of his eye.

  She rolled her eyes again and grunted while exhaling a cloud of smoke. The two noises together sounded like a car stalling in her chest. Keith set a paper bag with a bottle in it on the table in front of me and Frenchy.

  “I got Alex a welcome home gift.”

  “Crown Royal?” Frenchy asked.

  “Yes, sir.” Keith grinned.

  “And where did you get the money for that?” Suzy snarled at Keith.

  “I work, Mom.”

  “And Alex,” she grumbled out of the side of her mouth, lips clenched on the cigarette. “Breaking into people's houses. He ought to be ashamed of himself.”

  Keith raised his head to roll his own eyes then looked back down at the kitchen table.

  “You better not being doing shit like that, Keith. You're nineteen years old. You're on your own now, mister. You're not my fucking problem anymore.”

  She leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped her coffee. Keith traced a line of spilled sugar on the table with his finger.

  “You go to jail and I ain't bailing you out. I don't have the money,” she said. “I may have to start fucking your friends to pay the rent.”

  Frenchy sat up.

  “Suzy. I got paid today.”

  “Oh, fuck off, Pete,” she hissed. “You wouldn't know what to do with it if I gave it to you.”

  She pulled her robe closed at the top then crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Seriously,” Frenchy said. He stood up and reached for his wallet.r />
  “How much do you make over there?” Suzy asked.

  “Ma!” Keith barked. “Just get the fuck out of here! Isn't Sonny and Cher starting?”

  Suzy's head spun toward the clock.

  “Oh my God!” she shrieked.

  She leaned over Keith, stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray then ran barefoot across the kitchen and up the stairs.

  Keith swept his hand across the table, wiping the sugar to the floor. It was quiet for a long time except for the sound of a TV upstairs. Keith stole two packs of Suzy's cigarettes from a kitchen cabinet then said, “Let's head over to Alex's. He should be home now.” I said yeah and Frenchy shrugged, and we all piled out the door and into my car.

  FOUR

  HOME FROM PRISON WITH TWO SHOE BOXES. ONE WAS FILLED WITH PICTURES OF HIS NEW SON, THE OTHER WITH PICTURES OF ALL THE WOMEN HE MET WHILE LOCKED UP. I STOOD AGAINST A WALL AT HIS WELCOME-HOME PARTY, TOOK A LONG PULL OFF A WARM CAN OF BEER AND WONDERED OUT LOUD TO FRENCHY HOW A GUY SERVING EIGHT MONTHS FOR BREAKING AND ENTERING MET MORE WOMEN THAN I DID OUT ON THE STREET.

  “It's pretty amazing, isn't it?” Frenchy agreed.

  He thought about something then spoke up.

  “What are you gonna say to him?”

  “I don't know,” I said.

  “This is a bad idea. I really shouldn't have brought you.”

  Across the room Alex ran both hands over his slicked-back hair. He flipped a menthol cigarette into his mouth and I caught a glimpse of a cross tattoo on his forearm. That was new. The tattoo made him look like an ex-con or some tough guy from the other side of town, which I suppose he always was, really.

  We were all born in Forest Park but in the sixties our parents moved us across town to Locust Point. Alex's family never left. His old man was a drunk and a gambler and loved that he lived near Pimlico racecourse. He didn't care that his son was one of the only white kids left at Forest Park High School. By the time Alex dropped out, he was trying to fit in by acting black. I guess he never stopped. To us, he really was black. He ironed his jeans, wore bright button-up shirts and doused himself with cologne. He kept his black hair shorter than the rest of us and slicked it back instead of wearing it long. He smoked menthol cigarettes and listened to R&B. He pretended not to like rock ‘n’ roll. Worst of all, he hated Black Sabbath.