Raylan_ A Novel - Elmore Leonard [81]
He’d told them already, “All you two mopes have to do is get his attention when I touch my platinum head. You boys like it? I’m growin to. I get him he don’t know where to look as I take the stage. What time is it? Kennet squeeze my titties so tight I said no, I be flat-chested. I’m still like nothin nobody ever seen.” His homeboys, mopes on weed, were the same age as most of the people in here, but street in their ways, what they were wearing, easy to pick out of the crowd.
Delroy walked in, people took one look at him and began to cheer—man, look at this dude? A with-it crowd of his people. They made Delroy feel fine, like he belonged.
He watched them shooting goldfish with their water pistols. He read the signs on the walls, how much it would cost ’em to get drunk. He might be early, but would sit here an hour before giving it up.
The mope sittin with him slid out and was gone through tables toward the bar. He couldn’t see the mope now, he was too short. What he saw was the hat, over there in a crowd, the cowboy kind of hat he was waiting for.
Now the mope was on his way back, eyes open for a change, wide open. Stood long enough at the table to nod his head, face telling nothin. Now was moving toward the other mope, out of the way.
There was Raylan among the tables looking around. Delroy watched the man’s gaze move over the room, coming around to right here, Delroy wearing his platinum wig, drag queen makeup shining on him, and stopped.
Coming in, Raylan went up to the bar for a shot of bourbon, since he was here. He saw the homeboy, out of place, staring at him. The homeboy turned, moving through the tables, and Raylan followed him up the aisle now till he saw the drag queen sitting at a table against the wall. Raylan kept walking toward the queen, the homeboy moving off to one side now but still in Raylan’s vision.
He said, “Excuse me, but if you’re not Delroy Lewis you gotta be his ugly twin sister.”
Delroy, surprised, started to scowl at Raylan.
“How you know it was me?”
“You’re waitin for me, aren’t you?” Raylan said. “I saw your movie, I know what your intentions are. I could pull right now and shoot you. Before you get your purse open.”
He watched Delroy touch his wig.
And the homeboys started yelling at each other.
Raylan held his gaze on Delroy. He said, “Even if I looked to see what they’re doing, you wouldn’t get your purse open in time.” Raylan said, “You want to do it right here, all these people watchin?”
“They don’t bother me none,” Delroy said.
“They bother me,” Raylan said, pulled his Glock pointing it straight up and fired a round into the ceiling.
There was no sound in the bar. Now that’s all there was: people screaming, chairs scraping, glass breaking as the crowd in the Two Keys dropped to the floor, some of them running out the entrance.
Raylan held his Glock at his leg.
“Same as last time,” Delroy said, his fingers inside the shoulder bag on the table now in front of him.
“You’re dressed different,” Raylan said.
“You held your piece at your side like that,” Delroy said.
“The same one,” Raylan said.
“I had a shotgun,” Delroy said, “thinking could I raise it before you got one off.”
“I run into this kind of situation on the job,” Raylan said. “You made up your mind to give up and you’re still alive. But for how long?”
He saw Delroy raise the purse in his left hand, aiming it at Raylan, and Raylan shot from the hip and saw Delroy sag back in his chair still aiming the purse and Raylan shot him again.
Raylan took time to approach the table, Delroy facedown on the surface, still holding the purse out in front of him. Raylan looked at the two homeboys staring at him and told them to go on out of here before police arrived, and they ran. Now he was aware of a hum of voices in the bar, Raylan touching Delroy’s throat for a pulse but didn’t feel one. He turned now, pressing the marshals number on his cell and saw Jackie Nevada standing there watching