Shine - Lauren Myracle [87]
“Oh,” I said. “Um. Is this your place?”
“Yeah. So?” the black guy said. He weighed three hundred pounds at least, and he wore a football jersey over enormous jean shorts. His sneakers were white and puffy and spotless. But his eyes, though exasperated, had no cruelty in them. It made me breathe easier.
“Can we come in?” I asked.
“Hell no, I got payroll to do,” he said. But he didn’t shut the door, and when he lumbered to a table with papers spread out on it, Jason and I followed.
“Are you Billy?” I asked. I sat down next to him, perching on the edge of my chair.
He eyeballed me. He eyeballed Jason. “I go by the Kid,” he said, pronouncing it kee-ud. “Now what you want? You got two minutes, not five. Talk.”
I drew in a breath of air, then blew it out. This wasn’t a game. This was real, and I had two minutes to find out what I needed to know.
“Not to be rude,” I said, “but is this a bar for, um . . . ?”
I looked at Jason. Help, I said with my eyes.
“Is this a gay bar?” Jason asked.
“Yeah,” the Kid said, like what else in the world would it be? His fingers, spread out on the table, were nearly the size of corn dogs.
“Well, I have a friend in Black Creek—that’s where I’m from—and he got beat up for being gay,” I said. “His name’s Patrick. Do you know him?”
The Kid’s expression was inscrutable. After a second, he said, “Mebbe.”
“Well . . . I think he had a boyfriend, and I think he might have worked here.”
This time, his answer came easily. “Nope.”
My gut sank. “You’re sure?”
“What do you mean, am I sure?” he huffed. “Are you asking do I know my employees? Yes, I do, ’cause this here a class joint. I got standards, see. I go hiring a dude like that, and wha’choo think’s gonna happen? Dude like that’s gonna bring the law down on me, that’s what.”
Jason and I looked at each other. My heart beat faster. “You know him? Omigosh, you know Patrick’s boyfriend?”
Billy the Kid made a sound like chhhhh. “I tole Patrick to drop that strung-out piece a shit. Me and my partner, we both tole him so.”
“Your business partner?” I said.
Jason opened his mouth, then closed it. Embarrassment made me sink low in my seat as I caught on.
“My partner a decent man,” Billy the Kid said, eyeballing me. “The kinda man Patrick needs to find. Me and Leroy, we both tole Patrick how his boy’s a lost cause. He goin’ nowhere, we tole him, that’s how lost he is. And he prolly diseased on top of that.’”
“Okay,” I said, nodding a little desperately. “Can you tell us his name? Or where to find him?”
The Kid leaned forward. “I said, ‘Let the Kid take care of you. I’ll find you someone nice. Someone clean.’ And you know what Patrick said? He told me, ‘Thank you very much, Mr. Kid, but you don’t understand. I’m in loooove with this boy, and when you in love with someone, you don’t give up on ’em, no matter what.’”
“That’s Patrick, all right,” I said.
“Mebbe so. But his boyfriend was a damn bag fag, and it got so I couldn’t let neither of ’em in.”
Bag fag? What was a bag fag?
“Now I tole Patrick he was welcome anytime, as long as he didn’t bring his friend,” the Kid said. “But he wouldn’t have nothing of it.”
“Mr. Kid? Sir?” Jason said. “We need to find him, Patrick’s boyfriend. Can you tell us his name?”
“Other ’n cocksucker?” the Kid said.
“Other than that.”
The Kid pulled a napkin from the dispenser and gave his nose a great honking blow. He examined the contents, crumpled the napkin, and said, “Nope. Would if I could, but I tole you. He a bag fag. Dudes like that hold their names close.”
“What’s a bag fag?” I asked.
The Kid swiveled his big eyes at me again. “Oh, sugar booger. You just a baby, ain’t you?”
Jason educated me in an embarrassed voice. “Someone who, ah, trades sex for drugs.”
“Yeah. That,” the Kid said. “Sometimes he be selling, other times he be looking for a hookup.” He shook his massive head. “He was here more than Patrick knew, I can tell you that. Till I gave him the boot.”
A thought flitted into my brain, and then back out again,