Who in Hell Is Wanda Fuca? by G. M. Ford Read Free Book Online Page B

viable
option. About the third time a guy puked, pissed, or passed out in a cab or a
bus, the drivers spread the word.
    "Wave money at ‘em," I suggested.
    "Won't work," Buddy said again, shaking his head. "They'll
just think it's old Ralph here waving his balls at ‘em again."
    I'd heard about that particularly sordid little episode.
    "They're both green," offered George.
    "Yeah, and if you fold the bills enough times, they're about the same
size," Harold added. They yukked it up.
    This led to a prolonged round of accusations centering on the legendary
personal hygiene deficiencies of each. I let them have their fun. They were
right. I needed to come up with a car that we could all fit in. Renting one was
out of the question. Anything new and shiny would get these guys arrested for
car theft within four blocks. I decided to handle the problem once I'd gotten
them all staked out.
    "Okay, you guys have got a point. I'll get you a vehicle this
afternoon. Today, though, just this once, we're going to have to take the bus
downtown."
    They grumbled but went along with the program.
    The bus driver was no rookie. I hid the crusty quartet in a dark doorway
nearby. As the doors hissed open, I inserted myself between them and waved the
crew forward. The driver tried to cut me in half with the doors. It took my
promise that, if necessary, I'd use my leather jacket to clean up any little
surprises the boys might leave, to get us all on board. He opened his little
side window and drove with his nose in the breeze like a spaniel.
    As soon as I'd pulled the pictures from the envelope Frankie Ortega had
given me, I'd recognized the building. If I remembered correctly, it used to be
an old shoe factory. The building squatted midway down a long row of degenerate
architecture along the west side of the Kingdome, hard by the side of the
viaduct, occupying nearly the same ground as Tim Flood's beloved Hooverville
had so many years before. What goes around, comes around.
    This very building had been part of a discussion that Patsy and I had last
summer. We'd been taking our seventh-inning stretch on the ramp adjacent to the
three-hundred level of the Kingdome. Patsy was sucking down Kools and bemoaning
the fact that smoking was no longer permitted in the Dome.
    To the south the gutted hulk of a building, painted bright blue as if to
draw attention to itself, stoop gap-toothed among the surrounding rubble. On
the two lower floors, each and every window had been systematically stoned out
by local rock throwers. Some merely had been holed; others were gone entirely.
I commented to Patsy that they weren't making rock throwers like they used to.
In our day, we'd have gotten the top floor too. He'd agreed.
    "It's these goddamn Little League programs with all their pussy rules
about how many innings the kids can throw and all that shit. The kids never
develop any arm strength. They're all like that Blackmore kid in there
tonight." The M's were losing big. Patsy had lost his sense of humor.
    "That son of a bitch doesn't' throw hard enough to raise lumps on
anybody. M's ought to have a ticket promotion," he sneered. "Buy one,
get one free. Buy two, you can pitch."
    Last year's hideous blue had been painted over with a uniform coat of beige.
The windows had been replaced. I made a note to call a friend of mine in
Planning. It might be interesting to see how Save the Earth had come into
possession of such a property.
    The boys and I marched like Caesar and his lesions from the bus stop down to
the far side of the south Kingdome parking lot. The building was a good quarter
mile away across the lots. Close enough to reconnoiter, but far enough for us
to be invisible.
    "All right," I started. "I want one of you hanging around at
each corner of the building. I want - "
    The bitching started immediately. They all wanted the viaduct side.
    "I got friends over there by pillar six," Ralph claimed.
    "Me too," chimed George.
    Buddy took over. "Screw you guys. You