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Wandering Souls-2

September 30, 2013

     In CJ’s Dewey is at the bar and Danny, who runs the place says, “How you know it’s a black guy?”  and Dewey, finishing his coffee, says, “Come on.  What do you think?  Russian gangsters?  This is the kind of thing black guys do, that and drugs.”
     “You say so.”
     “I mean, you ever see looting?  On the news, when there’s a riot or something?  What do you see?  You see black guys.”
     “Now Dewey.  There’s other guys too.  Mexicans and whites both.”
     “Yeah, yeah.  But it’s mostly black guys isn’t it?”
     “Well, I guess.”
     “You guess.  Got to be black guys, kids.  Just fucking around.  I mean, nothing in there worth anything anyway.”
     “What’d they get last time?”
     “Fifty gallons of paint, navy gray paint.”
     “Paint?”
     “Yeah, paint.  Time before that a table.”
     “A table?  What kind of table?”
     “Just a stupid, goddamned mess hall table.”
     “What do they want with a table?”
     “Ask the guy took it.”
     “Yeah.  Want a beer?”
     “No.  I’ll stick with coffee.  Got to go back.  Working another shift.”
     “When they going to get you a new guy?”
     “They’re working up to spending the money.  You know how it is.  Trying to decide if they can get by without paying another man.”
     “How many doubles you pulled this week?”
     “I don’t care about that.  Got nothing else to do.  Anyway, I want to catch this guy.”
     “And then what?  Kick his ass?”
     “I should.  You call the cops, they give him a ride, a few questions and let him go.”
     Danny set the coffee, black with two sugars, in front of Dewey and said, “Watch yourself.  Your temper, you’ll end up in jail yourself.”
     Dewey drank his coffee with great seriousness.  He was a man who did everything with grim determination.
     “I know. I”ll take it easy, but I’m gonna catch him.”
     “Why don’t you just not worry about it?  I mean, there’s shit there anyway.”
     “It’s my job.  Nothing’s been taken on my shift and it isn’t fucking going to be.”

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