He's got another one that says 'Gentlemen prefer bonds' with his name under it, phone number, all that." Louis went into the pocket again for a kitchen match.
Ordell waited. "Yeah?"
"That's it. Most of the time I sit there."
"You get along with the Colombians?"
"Why not? They know where I came from." Louis struck the match with his thumbnail. "They play that cha-cha music so loud you can't hardly talk anyway."
Ordell got his own brand out and Louis gave him a light in his cupped hands.
"You don't sound happy, Louis."
He said, "Whatever you're into, I don't want any part of it, okay? Once was enough."
Ordell sat back with his cigarette.
"Like you Steady Eddie, huh? I'm the one fucked up that kidnap deal?"
"You're the one brought Richard in."
"What's that have to do with it?"
"You knew he'd try to rape her."
"Yeah, and you helped her out of that mess. But that ain't what blew the deal, Louis. You know what it was. We tell the man, pay up or you never see your wife again-'cause that's how you do it, right? Then find out he don't want to see her again, even for five minutes? Down there in his Bahama love nest with Melanie? If you can't negotiate with the man, Louis, or threaten him, then you don't have even a chance of making a deal."
"It would've come apart anyway," Louis said. "We didn't know what we were doing."
"I see you the expert now. Tell me who's been in prison three times and who's been in once? Listen, I got people working for me now. I got brothers do the heavy work. I got a man over in Freeport-you remember Mr. Walker? I got a Jamaican can do figures in his head. Can add up numbers, can multiply what things cost times how many"-Ordell snapped his fingers-"like that."
"You got an accountant," Louis said. "I'm happy for you."
"Have I asked you to come work for me?"
"Not yet you haven't."
"You know what a M-60 machine gun is?"
"A big one, a military weapon."
"I sold three of them for twenty grand each and bought this automobile," Ordell said. "What do I need you for?"
Chapter 2
Monday afternoon, Renee called Max at his office to say she needed eight hundred twenty dollars right away and wanted him to bring her a check. Renee was at her gallery in The Gardens Mall on PGA Boulevard. It would take Max a half hour at least to drive up there.
He said, "Renee, even if I wanted to, I can't. I'm waiting to hear from a guy. I just spoke to the judge about him." He had to listen then while she told how she had been trying to get hold of him. "That's where I was, at court. I got your message on the beeper. ... I just got back, I haven't had time. . . . Renee, I'm working, for Christ sake." Max paused, holding the phone to his ear, not able to say anything. He looked up to see a black guy in a yellow sport coat standing in his office. A black guy with shiny hair holding a Miami Dolphins athletic bag. Max said.
"Renee, listen a minute, okay? I got a kid's gonna do ten fucking years if I don't get hold of him and take him in and you want me to ... Renee?"
Max replaced the phone.
The black guy said, "Hung up on you, huh? I bet that was your wife."
The guy smiling at him.
Max came close to saying, yeah, and you know what she said to me? He wanted to. Except that it wouldn't make sense to tell this
guy he didn't know, had never seen before . . .
The black guy saying, "There was nobody in the front office, so I walked in. I got some business."
The phone rang. Max picked it up, pointing to a chair with his other hand, and said, "Bail Bonds."
Ordell heard him say, "It doesn't matter where you were, Reggie, you missed your hearing. Now I have to ... Reg, listen to me, okay?" This Max Cherry speaking in a quieter voice than he used on his wife. Talking to her had sounded painful. Ordell placed his athletic bag on an empty desk that faced the one Max Cherry was at and got out a cigarette.
This looked more like the man's den than a bail bond office: a whole wall of shelves behind where Max Cherry sat with books on it, all kinds of books, some wood-carved birds, some beer mugs. It was too neat and homey for this kind of scummy business. The man himself appeared neat, clean-shaved, had his blue shirt open, no tie, good size shoulders on him. That dark, tough-looking type of guy like Louis, dark hair, only Max Cherry was losing his on top. Up in his fifties somewhere. He could be Eyetalian, except Ordell had never met a bail bondsman wasn't Jewish. Max was telling the guy now the judge was ready to habitualize him. "That what you want, Reg? Look at ten years instead of six months and probation? I said, 'Your Honor, Reggie has always been an outstanding client. I know I can find him right now . . .''
Ordell, lighting the cigarette, paused as Max paused.
"'.'.. out standing on the corner by his house.''
Listen to him. Doing standup.
"I can have the capias set aside, Reg. . . . The fugitive warrant, they're gonna be looking for you, man. But it means I'll have to pick you up."
Ordell blew out smoke and looked around for an ashtray. He saw the NO SMOKING sign above the door to what looked like a meeting room, a long table in there, what looked like a refrigerator, a coffee maker.