Alfonse glared through the picture window at the gray waves breaking over the rocky coastline of La Jolla bay below. Rain drizzled against the glass spotting his view with fat droplets. He could just make out the sea lions surfing the rising tide and farther out, bobbing astride longboards their human counterparts covered head to toe in neoprene.
“Ya know that doctor? That one what made up all those stories?”
“Tweaker in Florida? The one you ran over his head? “
“No man, what stories that piece of shit ever made up?”
“He told us all kinds of shit, how he had the money, how he had kids, how he was gonna get right with us. He didn’t, he was full of shit. Don’t feel bad about that now dog, it’s just this dirty weather got you down.”
“Bro, what in the fuck are you talking about? I’m asking do you know that Doctor what made up all them kids stories? The eggs and ham, fucking cat with a hat, this shit? And you talking about Florida?”
Alfonse had turned from the window to face Dre who was sprawled atop the bed in all his immensity. His physique dwarfed the small room which was already expensive enough. No balcony, no pool, they should have stayed down the coast, La Jolla was a tourist trap.
“You didn’t say kids’ stories, you just said stories. How am I gonna think of Dr. Seuss when you just give me that shit?”
“That’s the man. Uber guy told me Dr. Suess used to live up here, and that he made up all those creatures and shit in his books from watching the sea out his window and finding weird shit on the beach. Plus, he wasn’t even no real doctor.”
“I loved Dr. Seuss when I was a kid. My grandma used to read it to me. Remember the Grinch? We used to even watch that joint on Christmas when we was locked up.”
“My pops told me the Grinch did the right thing taking all those Hu’s shit cause they were suckers. He never watched it long enough to see the Grinch have his moment of clarity, probably would have broke the old man’s heart.”
“Yo, your pops was mean.”
Breaking waves battered the window of their booth and then ebbed back revealing the only slightly lighter sky before rolling in against the glass again. The client had told him it was the hardest brunch table to get in town but the tidal action put him off his food. He felt like he was trapped inside a washing machine and it filled him with a dull nausea. Dre wasn’t bothered, he had already cleared one plate and was sizing up the omelet station for his favorite combination of goats cheese and garlic.
“This shit don’t make you feel a little sick man?” Alfonse asked.
“The waves, naw this is cool as hell, even make me a little hungry. This job really going to be so easy?”
“This is a job I would have dreamed of as a kid. The place is a cake box, I walked in and out.”
“Momma?”
Alfonse had looked at the withered old woman in the eye and made sure for himself the fire was out. There was nothing. He’d taken her cold hand in his and given it a pat.
“Your daughter asked me to give you her love,” Alphonse had told her. “Said she wished she could have been brave enough to come and do this herself but you know, she aint.”
“Just like Baby Daughter said,” he told Dre, “She gone.”
“How we gonna do the thing? Shot between the toes or behind the ear.”
“I got another idea, totally natural, what the daughter say we gonna have in there?”
“She said between 30 and 50g’s worth of shit, jewelry–gold, stones. All old, no bullshit laser etching to worry about or none of that either.”
“Jewelry, so we’re talking a minimum of ten g’s–5 apiece once we move it. That ain’t much for what the state of California going to want from us if this thing goes down wrong. Your girl gonna drop a dime? How you know this daughter?”
“She a friend of Amy, you know my pilates teacher? We all had lunch together, she aint gonna snitch. She want her Ma to have some peace.”
“Why they come to you with this?”
“Cause they white.”
That sounded about right to Alfonse. “You gonna have dessert bro?”
“Dessert? Why you ask me that? You calling me fat?”
“Calling you fat? Da fuck? Baby, you the only man I know go to the gym 3 hours every day, how the fuck I gonna call you fat?”
“Well, I do want dessert…. I’ll make a little plate and we’ll share, okay.”
Dre rose up out of the booth with the weight of eyes on him from all around. His mass drew stares like a natural force. He was no good for quiet work anymore, he couldn’t blend in anywhere. He was muscle pure and simple but Alfonse loved him since the moment they set eyes on each other in the frozen winter yard at Sing Sing.
The waiter was gossiping to Alfonse in a stage whisper on the legend of Madam Geisel who once used that very restaurant as her nightly soap box to strip the facade of Dr. Suess away, exposing the man behind the curtain to whomever would listen while pouring gin down her throat. “Honey,” he continued to dish, as Dre loomed up behind him with a sampling tray of petit fours held shoulder high and growled, “Who the fuck you calling Honey?” to first the astonishment and then sheer terror of the server who slinked away gap jawed and wide eyed.
“C’mon man, that yenta about to tell me about Dr. Seuss’ crazy ass wife bro.”
Stepping up onto Dre’s shoulders felt as solid as a slab of stone. With Dre standing up to his full 6’6” height Alfonse easily slid the slim jim through the sash and pressed open the toggle of the lock. The window opened silently in the quiet night and he simply stepped over the sill to where the red neon glare of the digital clock on Elizabeth’s bedside table bathed her face in an electric pink wash.
Alfonse leaned over the woman who laid stiffly in the small bed with her eyes wide as they had been the afternoon before. She blinked just as mechanically and wet her lips just as regularly as she had during the day.
“Hello again Tia.” He squatted slowly down to her level leaning his weight on one hand pressed against her sternum compressing her lungs while he tilted her head forward until her chin met her clavicle with his other hand. She coughed wetly three times into the collar of her night dress, spasmed lightly then ceased to move altogether. Alfonse held her in the position for another three minutes until she was beyond any resuscitation.
Before he stood he righted her head on the pillow and fixed her hair where it was just gone frazzled. The strands against the pillow were snow white and fine as silk between his scarred fingers. He took just a moment longer than necessary in styling it, then began to stand, stalled and bent down to kiss her on the forehead as if he were putting his own mother to sleep.
In the rented car with Dre at the wheel and one arm hung out the window in the cool night breeze Alfonse lit one of the few post work cigarillos Dre would put up with and leaned back in the seat blowing smoke out into the darkness where just off the highway the Pacific kept up its timeless tattoo against the shore.
“All cool?” Dre asked.
“Yeah, it’s done.”
“An what we get?”
“We got everything she had.”
