Blue Belle - Andrew Vachss [80]
"What kind of dog is that?" the taller one asked.
"One that bites," I told him.
"He looks like a giant pit bull."
"Close enough."
"Where could I get one?"
"You can't."
The shorter one piped up. "He looks like a big lump to me. That ain't no pit bull."
"Pansy, watch!" I snapped at her.
She came slowly to her feet and strolled toward the kids, making her noises. I never heard an alligator eat a pig, but I knew what Belle meant. She pinned the boys with her ice–water eyes, one skull–crusher of a paw pulling at the concrete.
"Jump!" I yelled at her. The kids took off before she hit the deck. She looked over at me, bored to death. I made a circle sign again. This time she took off, loping the length of the boards, peering over the edge into the water. She jogged back, stopping at the beam where Belle perched. The beast leaped up, her paws locking into the wood a foot below Belle. She reached down and patted her. "Does she want me to come down?"
"I think she wants to come up."
"There's no room."
"Maybe that's a message."
Belle jumped down from her perch, landing next to me. "What message?" she said, bunching a small fist.
"That they should make those beams bigger."
"Or these smaller?" she asked, smacking herself on the rear.
"Wouldn't be my choice," I assured her.
She took my arm and we walked around some more, Pansy hanging close.
"She's so beautiful. She really is like a panther, the way she moves. So smooth."
I lit a smoke, thinking it was the truth.
"Burke, how come you got a female dog?"
I shrugged.
"Well, she's for protection, right? A guard dog? I thought they were all males. I thought they were tougher, you know? A man I knew once, he had a German shepherd. Wouldn't have a female dog around him—said a bitch would turn tail and run from a fight."
"He's a moron. Male dogs, they smell a bitch in heat, you know what they want to do?"
"Sure."
"No, you don't. What they want to do is fight every other male dog around. In the wild, they run in packs. The way the pack stays alive, they only let the strongest bulls mate with the bitches. So the litters are strong too. The way they see who the strongest dog is they fight it out."
She put her head against my shoulder. "Maybe they're right."
"They're right for dogs. Not for people. I grew up like that. It took me a lot of years and a lot of scars before I snapped that a good woman won't make you fight over her."
"I worked with girls like that. Fire–starters. Blood makes them come."
She swayed against me, pulling me to a stop along the pier. "Is that why you have a girl dog? So she won't want to fight other dogs and all?"
"Males are just no good. Any kind of male. A man'll fuck a chain–link fence."
She patted my pockets, took out a cigarette. I cupped a wooden match against the wind for her. She sat on the bench. Pansy jumped up next to her. I sat on the other side.
Belle looked at the. water. "The man who said a bitch would turn tail—that's what he wanted me to do. I never had much of my own. Things you buy…they're not really yours. But I own what I do. He found out too."
"What happened?"
"I cut him. Cut him good."
We walked back to the Plymouth. "You want to wait at the office for me?"
"Me and Pansy," she said.
96
BACK AT the office, Belle looked at the street maps rolled up in a corner. "Can I tack these on the wall?"
"Sure. I was going to do it anyway. Why?"
"I want to learn the city."
"Okay. I'll be back in a couple of hours, maybe more."
I moved to the door.
"Honey?"
"What?"
"Come here for a minute. Sit with me."
I sat on the couch. She put her head in my lap, looked up at me.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"What I told you, about my mother and my father and all? Is that the worst thing you ever heard?"
I thought about kiddie porn. About selling little boys in Times Square. Rapists. Child molesters. Snuff films. The tape looped inside my head. I hit the stop button. "It's not close," I told her. "Everybody's pain is the worst thing in the world for them. Your mother really loved you. Died for you—you always have