Shella (12 page)

I waited a couple of days, then I went to see Monroe. He was sitting where he was before. All the same people with him, except for the redheaded guy.

“Ghost! Like a fucking ghost, just like I said. How’d you do it?”

“Did you find her?” I asked him.

“I got feelers out all over the place. Don’t worry about it. She’s out there, I’ll find her for you. Where do I …?”

“I’ll come back,” I told him.

When I came back in another week, he asked me if I had a picture of Shella. I never had a picture of Shella.

Two more weeks went by. I went to see Monroe. I just stood there, looking down at him.

“You scare me sometimes, Ghost,” he said. “Look, I can’t come up with the girl, how about I just pay you the money instead?”

“No. That’s wasn’t what you said.”

“Okay, okay. I’m still looking, got feelers out all over the place. Remember what I told you? Maybe she’s not working…. She’s in jail or married or something, it could take a long time to track her down. It ain’t like you got any ID on her.”

“I know. I’ll wait.”

I told Misty I’d be going soon. On a trip. Somebody was looking for an old friend of mine. When they found her, I’d go out there to see her.

“In Chicago? Is that where you’ll be going?”

“I don’t know. Wherever she is.”

“Remember when we first talked about it? In the car? I always wanted to try Chicago.”

I didn’t say anything.

The next morning, Misty got home from the club, took her shower, got in bed with me. I was awake.

“Honey, remember when I was telling you about the ladies’ room? In the club where we went dancing? I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea.”

“About what?”

“What the girls were doing in there. The lesbian stuff. When I said it was disgusting …? I didn’t mean doing it was disgusting … just, in the toilet like that, in front of everyone, you know what I mean?”

“Sure.”

“I mean … some men, they think it’s the most beautiful thing. To watch. You ever notice that? Like in porno movies …? Guys’ll watch two women going at it, really get turned on. But you never see women watching movies of men doing each other. How come you think that is?”

“I don’t know.”

“You ever … go to one of those movies?”

I did, once. A gay movie. The guy I was paid to do, he went there all the time. Cruising, they call it. It was the easiest one I ever did. I just sat in the back where they told me. The guy came in, sat down next to me. Didn’t say a word at first. I just watched the movie, didn’t answer when he started talking to me. I let him unzip my fly. When he put his head down, I broke his neck.

“No,” I told her, rubbing her back.

“You think maybe you’d like to … someday?”

“No. I got nothing against them. I knew one. From when I was inside. Real hard guy, kept to himself.”

“I don’t mean
men,
honey. Girls.”

“I don’t go to the movies much.”

“I know. But you liked that time we went, didn’t you?”

“Sure.” It was called
Goodfellas.
A movie about gangsters. The guy who wrote it, he knew what he was doing,
how they work. It didn’t seem like a movie at all, except for the music. I wished I could have watched it without the sound.

Misty put her hand between my legs, rolling onto her side, talking low against my chest.

“I could bring a girlfriend home some night. From the club, after work. Would you like that, baby?”

“Bring her here?”

“Or someplace else, if you want. There’s a girl works at the club, Chantal. She goes both ways. I know she likes me, I can tell. We could put on a little show for you. I’d like that, if you would. I’m not the jealous kind, I know how to share.”

“That’s okay.”

“You don’t want me to?”

“No, it’s all right.”

It was a Thursday night when I saw him again.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Ghost. Your girl’s working in Cleveland, a joint off Euclid Avenue, downtown. You know it?”

“I’ve never been there,” I told him. It wasn’t true—I did some work there once. Don’t know why I didn’t tell Monroe.

“It’s called The Chamber, this joint. Real hardcore, the way I hear it.”

He was watching my face as he was talking. He doesn’t usually do that. I put my eyes at the top of his nose, right between his eyebrows.

He lit a cigar. “She’s using the name Roxie. She’s not on
the books—the manager says she only works part-time, Friday, Saturday night, like that.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, Ghost. I’m a man of my word. Besides, I wouldn’t want you getting mad at me, coming back to see me.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

He gave me the address of the club, asked me how I would get there. I told him I’d drive out, take a couple of days.

I called Cleveland information from a pay phone. They didn’t have a listing for this Chamber place. It didn’t mean anything. Some of the clubs, they advertise in the Yellow Pages and all, some of them just have a pay phone in the back.

I told Misty I’d be gone a couple of days, maybe a little longer. Packed some stuff in an airline bag. She sat on the bed, watching me.

“You’ll be back?”

“Sure.”

“You promise?”

“Why you asking me all this?”

“I’m sorry. I mean … I know we don’t … just … I thought we could … keep on….”

“It’s okay,” I told her.

I took a plane into Cleveland, told the cab driver to take me to an address I remembered. On the West Side, near the water. They call it The Flats, this section.

When I got out of the cab, it had all changed. Last time I was there, it was a rough neighborhood. Waterfront bars, strip joints, whores on the street, places where you could rent a room, nobody asked your name. Now it was all fancy restaurants, little shops where you could buy expensive stuff, looked all new.

I went further along the West Side, out on Detroit Avenue. Finally, I found a place, little sign said
ROOMS
. I paid the man some money. Everybody had hillbilly accents. The room was small, bathroom down the hall.

That night I went to the club. It was right where Monroe said it would be. No pictures of the girls on the outside. Man at the door, all dressed in black.