Hot Wire by Gary Carson Read Free Book Online

around before and he always reminded me of a college professor who'd just spent the last week curled up in a dumpster. He was a fleabag reporter, broke all the time, a bottom-feeder sniffing at keyholes with a fifth of vodka in his pocket. Vincent had met him a couple years ago, but I never got the details. The old man said he was harmless, but Brown hung out with bail bondsmen, seedy cops and courthouse reporters, so I always kept my distance.
    "Emma. How's it going?" His breath smelled like an ash tray full of stale beer. "Haven't seen you in a while." Turning back to Vincent, he slouched over the bar, digging around in his pockets. "Time for another one, Vince? On the tab?"
    "Make it fast." Vincent frowned at his watch. "You gonna settle this year or what?"
    "I've got a check coming Friday." Brown gave me a sloppy grin, his left eye twitching. "That's what they tell me, anyway, the little fucks. Check's in the mail. It's always in the mail." He coughed, then leaned closer, slurring his words. "My big-shot editors wouldn't know a real story if it bit them on the ass. Bunch of red-diaper doper babies. They're going to overthrow the Capitalist Oppressors as long as it doesn't cost them any ad revenue." He laughed. "I gave them five-thousand words on meter-maid rackets and ticket quotas. Fight The Power, baby." He patted his coat pockets, then pulled out a photograph the size of a Polaroid snapshot and dropped it on the bar in front of me. "You ever see this guy before?"
    "Get away from me."
    I thought I was going crazy. None of this was real. I had to leave, deal with Steffy, find a place to stay, figure out what to do. I couldn't sleep at home. If I did, I might wake up in a cell. Deacon had told me to vanish, so I had to vanish. Instead, I was talking to this seedy lush with my head rammed so far up my ass that I could wash my face with my own tongue.
    "Just take a look." Brown stared at me, his eye twitching, then he picked up the draw Vincent gave him and slurped at the foam. "The kid's a male hustler – some jail-bait amateur. He's supposed to work at a gas station on Telegraph when he isn't blowing city officials for fifty bucks a swallow." He turned to Vincent. "You got a cigarette, Vince? I'm tapped out."
    "What else you want? A goddamn liver transplant?" Vincent passed him a smoke and Brown lit up, coughing and gulping at his beer. I took a look at the photo and got this flash of revulsion. It was a grainy close-up of a teenaged boy – some junky-looking surfer dude with long blonde hair. He was busy sucking off a fat banker type sprawled across a bed with his gray-flannel trousers pulled down to his knees. The background looked like a hotel suite. I could see the lights of Knob Hill in the windows.
    "Jesus Christ." I tossed the photo on the bar and got to my feet. "Get out of here, you pervert. What's the matter with you?"
    "I'll take that for a no." Brown shook his head sadly, picked up his dirty picture, tucked it away and turned back to his beer. "Shaking down chicken-hawks," he mumbled to himself. "That's what I've been reduced to."
    He left ten minutes later, stumbling out the door, and I almost felt sorry for the grubby bum.
    #
    Steffy was fried like usual.
    I sat down at her table, but it took a minute before I registered on her spongy brain. She stared at me, her eyes bloodshot and dilated, then she sat up and gave me this twisted smile, reaching across the table to touch my arm. My loving cousin. She almost spilled her beer down her cleavage.
    "Hi, Emma," she slurred. "I broke up with Larry."
    "What happened?" I kept an eye on the door. "Did he catch you going through his wallet again?"
    "That's not true." Her eyes brimmed. High theatrics. "He just said that because he lost his whole paycheck on that deal with those biker slimeballs or whatever he was doing and he tried to blame it on me..."
    She trailed off, stroking my arm.
    "You're so tiny," she cooed. "Just like a little doll."
    "Great, Stef." First