Little Girl Blues

By James Neal Jr

Dirt's life is headed in the right direction. His auto repair business with partner Ric is doing well. After being away from Phoenix for ten years, he has no ties to the gangster he used to work for. He's lonely. But life is okay.
Until the Police call. Until he's asked to watch over his father's old friend, the con man, Jamaica Hank. Until he's once again on fast-paced dashes across the Arizona highways in his beloved cars. There are gunfights. Car chases. Murder.
And, along for the ride, the strangely irresistible woman-child named Blue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Neal Jr
• Release date: Oct 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301141647

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Little Girl Blues

By James Neal, Jr

Copyright 2012

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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PROLOGUE

Here I am again. Where am I again, that’s the question. You’re a fool, Dirt, a full-blood, 100 percent dumbass. Creepin around at night, chasin Jamaica Hank over the Valley and for what? For the cops, you dumb sonofabitch. For the police force that ain’t done nothin but use you for ten years. Shoulda stayed in Chicago when you had the chance. Shoulda never even thought about comin back to Phoenix. Shoulda had sense.

Where is that old fool? I’m not gonna stay out here all night. He said 11 o’clock when he left. It’s, what, damn near midnight? I’ll give him five more minutes, then I’m out. I’ll tell Stormy that Hank got away from me and that my bird-doggin days are over. If I had any balls, I woulda turned down this…favor. Why are you like that? Never could say ‘no’ to anybody. Just take shit, time after time, from anybody. Too old for this. Turnin over a new leaf, startin tomorrow.

Man, I love this place. Fat incense smell, that creosote bush. Moonlight wigglin across that black water. Lamps reflectin on the lake like stars dropped out the sky. It’s been awhile since I hit the park at night. When was…? Me and Lucy used to sit under that ramada there. Man, she was a wild child. More game than most boys, even in high school. Wonder if she’s still married to that guitar player? Bet she misses this place, bein in LA for all these years. Wonder if she misses me? Damn. Now I’m reminiscin about old girlfriends. Must be in worst shape than I thought.

C’mon, Hank. All I wanna do is tuck your scrawny butt into bed and know you’re safe for the night. That’s my agreement, that’s what I’m supposed to do. Only that. I ain’t gonna get involved in no cop shit, no court shit, no shit at all outside of the shit I’m already sorry I’m in.

Hot tonight. No rest from it this summer. Desert so heated up, sometimes you think the whole city is about to melt. Too much damn concrete. What I wouldn’t give for an ice cold---yo. What the…? Who is this fool out here joggin late at night? And in pink shorts. Movin quick, too. Hope this brother ain’t up to no stuff. Damn. Tall sucker. Long strides.

What’s up?

All right.

"All right" my ass. Better get your Carl Lewis-track star dark-runnin butt on home before somebody clips you out here. This is a dangerous place. Why is it that everybody knows that and still do the dumbest things? But, who are you to talk, sittin out here like a duck, waitin for Jamaica Hank who probably ain’t even comin? Probably set me up for one of his scams. Hell, he might be over at my crib right now, takin…naw. He wouldn’t do that. Would he? Him and Son were too tight. Him and me are pretty tight, too. You ain’t sittin here getting ripped off, are you, Dirt?

Damn. That’s a loud stereo in that ride. Which reminds me. I could be doin real work, if I have to be awake this late. Old lady Claxton’s Mercury needs those valve cover gaskets before Tuesday. I could be tryin to find that short in Bobby Lee’s Vette. Got a shop fulla wheels to be workin and, what are you doin? Playin detective. Only it ain’t even snoop work. Just the runaround, flunkyin for Stormy. Who cares what Hank knows? I like the dude, but you can’t trust him from here to that paddleboat. Why the cops are on his jock is a mystery to me. Hell, it’s all a mystery.

Why don’t that kid turn down the music? Guess he must be tryin to impress a girl. Boomin music is all it takes nowadays. With Lucy, it took two joints and a half-bottle of wine. Now, just a bass line and teenyboppers be swoonin. Ain’t even heard real music. Course, that ain’t too bad. I think I know that song. Lessee. Dum dum dad um, ba doo doo doo, dum dum dad um. Yeah, you know that, Dirt. That’s..that’s…oh, hell, what’s her face? Cute sister, short hair. Dum dum dad um. I should go ask. Where are they parked, anyway. Over behind that hill? On the street? I should ask them who…who’s there…

Who’s---uhhhhh.

Chapter 1

FRIDAY

’Eat every day. And don’t get eaten.’

Come again?

That’s what Jamaica Hank said. The last thing he told me before he…you know…left.

"’Left’ my left nut. You lost him. You let him get away, Dirt. Talking to me about ‘eat every day.’ You know what the Department will be chewing on later, don’t you?"

Your ass?

My ass, that’s what. So. Let’s start it from the beginning.

Aw, c’mon, Stormy. I’ve told you what happened six times already. Somebody ran up behind me in the park and popped me upside the head. I came to and called you. I don’t know nothin else.

"I said from the beginning. You and Hank left here on Wednesday. You were watching him. Remember?

Man, do I remember.

Jamaica ran me around the city like we had to get everywhere at once. We went by the bars down on Van Buren so he could mess with the hookers. We hit the horse track and the dogs. Old man even had me run him out to the reservation and he got in a few games of bingo. Never seen so much energy in a senior citizen. That’s what he is, huh? And he knows everybody in Arizona. We were out at a Circle K, way the shit out on the Beeline Highway, gassin up the ’64 T-bird when he eased up to me, whisperin.

"Follow my lead, youngblood."

"What are you up to? I told him. I ain’t about no clownin with you, Hank. Let’s get this gas and go."

"We will, we will. Just play along on this little riff with me, okay?"

How could I say no to him? Why would I be different from anybody else, all the hundreds, maybe thousands of people he’d laid game on over the years? I stood by the car, waitin for him to give me the sign to go into the store area. I could see him through the window, talkin fast to the little girl behind the counter, wavin his skinny arms and lookin like Sammy Davis, Jr. Young hoodlums, nothin to do on a Wednesday afternoon, moved around the store, skinny kids like eels behind glass. Hank takes off his hat and puts it back on. I walk in while he’s still jabberin.

"Is that him? You got him on the phone?"

My part.

"Can I get change for a twenty?"

The girl’s jugglin the phone, reachin for my money and the cash register, all the time Hank’s in her ear. Let me talk to him, he says. Give me that phone. She hands it over and I see he leans on the button real quick-like, cuttin off the call but still rattlin off at the mouth.

"Yeah, that’s right. No, I’ve already towed it here. Well, I didn’t know you were gonna be at home. Right. She’s standin right here. Uh huh. That’s what we agreed on, right. A hundred fifty. Sure thing. I’ll tell her. Okay, see you later, buddy. You need to tell her…oh. All right. Catch you later."

He hangs up the phone at the same time the girl is passin me money.

"He said to go ahead and take it out of the register and he’ll straighten out the drawer when he comes in." She stares at Hank and for a second I think she’s about to throw him out the door. But he’s smilin, I’m trippin, the three teenagers with arms full of munchies snacks are smilin, and pretty soon she joins in. Girl opens up the cash drawer. And reaches in, givin up one hundred fifty dollars to a strange little black man with nothin but a fast tongue and a smile full of teeth. I hit the door and get the ride, pickin up Hank around the back of the lot. My other part. The old man gets in, chucklin and smellin like reefer.

"That old tow truck bit is still one of the freshest gigs around, he tells me. I used that the first time back in---"

"You ain’t right, old man. We are supposed to be hangin out together until you go to court on Tuesday. There ain’t supposed to be no ‘gigs’ involved in this situation. And I let you get me in it."

"Relax, Junior. I wouldn’t put you in no harm. Me and your Pops went through too much for me to let you get hurt."

"My ‘Pops’ ain’t got nothin to do with this. You know I don’t like bein around no hustles."

"Dirt. Man, there ain’t nothin out here but hustles."

And then?

’And then’ what?

You and Jamaica Hank ripped off a truck stop. What did you do next?

Number one, I didn’t do no rippin off. I was just…there. And number two, I’m tired, Officer Storm, and I am goin home. If you don’t have any objections.

Just one.

Look, brother---

Jamaica Hank is dead. And you’re the last one to see him alive.

What! What the hell…? You lie, Phillip Storm. What’s this shit?

Don’t fuck with me, Stormy. How’s he dead? You lyin through your goddamned teeth.

I just saw him yesterday afternoon. Talked to him after that. This is bullshit. Crazy lyin cop bullshit.

What happened? When….tell me somethin, man.

He was found in an alley on the Westside this morning. Four slugs in his chest. Somebody he knew or somebody he wasn’t afraid to walk up on. Dead as a broke-dick dog.

You always were one for country sayings. Even in high school. Wonder if you wanted to be a cop back when we were ridin around, drinkin Colt 45 back in the days. Hank? Dead? In some alley over in gangbanger country? Somethin ain’t right. Don’t make sense.

Where’s he at? I wanna see him.

No can do. Coroner’s got the body.

I gotta sort this out. Need to leave. Now.

Listen. I gotta go, man. You know I didn’t have nothin to do with Hank gettin killed. I did what you wanted. Hung out with him, tried to keep an eye on him. He got away from me and I’m sorry about that. But, killin? Stormy, I need to get some sleep.

Sit your ass down.

Damn. Not good-cop, bad-cop at the same time. Tall skinny fool better not push me too hard. Hank dead? I ain’t in no mood.

Where were you when you last saw Hank? C’mon, Dirt. You might know something you don’t even know you know.

Where was I? I was busy doin what I told myself I’d never do. Trustin somebody. Jamaica punked me, left me standin at the bar, talkin to a woman I didn’t even feel like bein around.. Where was I? On the