Small Steps - Louis Sachar [20]
“Whoo! Whoo!” X-Ray shouted through Armpit’s open window.
The girl raised her middle finger.
South Congress Avenue hardly resembled the street north of the river. Armpit looked out at boarded-up buildings, liquor stores, bars, and tattoo parlors. At night the area would come alive with some of the best music in Austin, but in the heat and glare of the late-morning sun, it seemed as if the entire street suffered from a giant hangover.
“There it is,” said X-Ray.
SMOKESTACK LIGHTNIN was painted in brown letters on the smoky glass of a storefront restaurant located next to the Fingernail Emporium. Armpit could smell the slow-cooked meat as soon as he stepped out of the car. If they hadn’t been there to sell tickets, he wouldn’t have minded a sausage wrap or a chopped-beef sandwich. He had missed lunch, thanks to X-Ray.
“Here, you better hold these,” X-Ray said, handing Armpit the tickets.
He hadn’t seen them since the day they bought them. Once again, he noticed This ticket may not be resold clearly printed on the back.
A bell on the door jangled as X-Ray pushed it open. Armpit followed him inside.
Only a couple of tables were occupied, but it wasn’t noon yet. A roll of brown paper towels stood in the center of every table, along with various bottles of hot sauce.
They made their way to the front.
“What can I get you?” asked the man behind the counter. Various meats were on display behind a dirty glass window.
“We’re looking for Murdock,” said X-Ray.
“You found him.”
He was a black man with gray hair and a gray beard. His apron was splattered with grease and barbecue sauce.
“X-Ray?”
“Yeah, and this is my partner, Armpit.”
Murdock laughed at the name. “Armpit, huh? I used to know a dude who called himself Burnt Toast. He played the slide trombone. You play an instrument, Armpit?”
Armpit wanted to tell him about the scorpion but instead just shook his head.
“Let me see the tickets?”
Armpit felt a little worried as he handed the tickets over the glass case. There wasn’t a whole lot they could do if Murdock decided just to keep them.
Murdock looked them over. “Row M. Not bad. Two hundred and seventy, right?”
“That’s right,” said X-Ray. “And you’re getting a bargain.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Murdock. “But I only get to see my daughter one weekend a month, so I gotta make the most of it. When she heard Kaira DeLeon was going to be playing, it was all she could talk about. Hey, Wiley, you ever listen to Kaira DeLeon?”
“Who?” asked one of the few customers in the place.
“Kaira DeLeon.”
“Never heard a her.”
Wiley wore a Harley T-shirt and had tattoos up and down both arms.
“Go punch E-4,” Murdock told him. “See if she don’t knock your socks off.” He turned his attention back to X-Ray. “I really do appreciate you boys coming all the way down here. When it’s your own business, you got to stay on top of it twenty-four hours a day. I do it all: cook, wash dishes, you name it.”
Armpit was still waiting for either the money or Murdock to return the tickets.
Wiley fumbled with the jukebox. He was a big guy, and Armpit would not want to have to try to deal with him and Murdock.
“Can I get you something to eat?” Murdock asked. “On the house.”
“Chopped-beef sandwich,” X-Ray answered right away.
“How ’bout you, Armpit?”
He was more concerned about the money than he was about food. “The same,” he said.
“You like your sauce hot or mild?” Murdock asked.
“Mild,” said X-Ray.
“Armpit?”
“The same.”
Kaira’s voice filled the restaurant.
I’m not the kinda girl who’s apt to . . .
Settle down.
No, I’m the kinda girl who likes to . . .
Get around.
Murdock brought the sandwiches over to the cash register. He opened it, then took out two hundred and seventy dollars, which he gave to X-Ray, along with his sandwich.
Armpit felt bad about not trusting him.
I see you lookin’ at me
the way you do . . .
Just hold on!
a little longer.
Just hold on!
a little bit longer.
Hold on, baby
just a little bit longer
’Cause