Blossom - Andrew H. Vachss [3]
"I remember that. I had to wait another six months for him."
"He had a long, straight scar on the inside of his right forearm. Chainsaw kicked back on him when he was a kid. Wrote a letter to his woman every damn day. He could play the piano like his hands were magic."
"Still can."
"You believe I know him?"
"Yes. But I don't know you. Virgil said you'd tell me a name. He said to ask you…the most dangerous man alive…he said there'd only be one answer. And Burke would know it."
I lit a smoke. Watched her face through the flame from the wooden match. "Wesley," I said. Whispering his name. Feeling the chill from the grave.
She nodded. Let out a long breath. "It's you. Burke." She fumbled in her purse, found a cigarette. I lit it for her. "Virgil's your brother…" making it a question.
"Yes," I said, making it clear. She was asking about commitment, not genetics.
She dragged on her cigarette, shoulders slumping against the back of the booth. "Thank the Lord."
4
I FELT MAMA behind me. I dropped my left shoulder slightly. She came around to the table, standing between me and Virgil's woman.
"This is Rebecca, Mama. My brother's wife."
Mama bowed. "You want soup?"
I nodded the question at Rebecca. "Yes, please," she said.
Mama's face was composed, eyes watchful. "You not eat anything all this time. Very hungry, yes?"
"I think I must be…never thought about it."
One of Mama's waiters appeared, wearing his white jacket loose to give easy access to the shoulder holster. Mama said something to him in Cantonese. He left as quietly as he had appeared.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
"It's okay, Mama."
The waiter brought a steaming tureen of hot and sour soup. Mama used the ladle carefully, filling my bowl, then Rebecca's.
"Eat first," she ordered, walking back to her register.
"Take small sips," I told Rebecca. It was too late. She snorted a harsh breath out her nose, dropped her spoon.
"Whoa! What is this?"
"It's Mama's soup. She makes the stock herself, adds whatever's around from the kitchen. It's good for you."
"Tastes like medicine."
"Give it another shot. Small sips, okay?"
"Okay." A tiny smile played at her lips.
She was hungry. The waiter brought a plate of dry noodles. She watched as I sprinkled a handful over the top of the soup. Did the same. The bowl emptied. I held up the ladle. She nodded. I filled her bowl again. I could feel Mama's approval from across the room. Two dots of color flowered on Rebecca's cheekbones. She was a tough woman—Mama's soup isn't an appetizer.
The waiter took the bowls away. Returned the ashtray. I lit her smoke. Lit my own. "Tell me," I said.
"After Virgil got out, we left Uptown. Moved out of Chicago. To Hammond, then to Merrillville. It's just over the line. In Indiana."
"I know where it is."
"He got work. In the mill. Things were good, Burke. I had a little girl. Virginia. She's almost ten now. And a little boy. He's called Virgil too, like his daddy. Virgil's a good man. You know that. Worked doubles when the mill was really pumping. When they cut back, he got this regular gig, playing the piano at a club in Chicago. We got a house. Ours. Not rented or nothing. Never did go back to Kentucky, get us some ground like we planned."
Get us some ground—own some land of their own. Never happen here. I dragged deep on my cigarette. Waiting for her to find the rhythm, tell me the truth.
"I got a cousin. Second cousin, really. My cousin Mildred's boy. Lloyd. He got himself in some foolishness back home. Drinking, cutting school, stealing cars for fun. Like kids do, you know?"
I nodded.
"Anyway, Mildred asked me, could Lloyd come up and stay with us for a while? He don't have no father, Mildred figured maybe Virgil'd settle