Page 10 of Nobody's Fool

Chilton gets to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. His hand is the approximate size and weight of a manhole cover. He gives my shoulder an eagle-talon squeeze, and I almost drop to my knees.

Anna runs outside.

I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. I don’t need to follow her.

I got what I want.

Chilton lets up the pressure. I stand to my full height, which is probably a foot shorter than his. He stares down at me, hands on his hips now.

“What the hell, Kierce?”

I am nothing if not fast with the lies. “She didn’t pay for the class.”

“Say what now?”

“The woman came in, she took the class, and when I asked her to pay—”

“And you chased her?” Clinton asked, shock in his voice.

“Yes.”

“A white woman?”

“Don’t be racist, Chilton.”

“You think this is funny?”

I lift my hand, palm down, and rock it back and forth in a gesture indicating “maybe a little.”

“You don’t chase after a white woman,” he says. “Not in this city. What did I say to you on the very first day you came to work for me?”

“‘If you don’t make me money, you’re dead to me.’”

“And after that?”

“Not to chase white women?”

Chilton shakes his head. “Not to cause trouble.”

“Oh,” I say, “right.”

“I gave you this job as a favor.”

“I know, Chilton.”

It wasn’t so much a favor as a quid pro quo. My old cop partner, Marty, tore up three parking tickets in exchange for Chilton giving me this gig.

“Don’t make me regret my generosity,” Chilton says.

“Sorry, you’re right. I overreacted.” Then I point up. “I have over twenty paying students upstairs.”

That gets Chilton’s attention. “Seriously? That many?” He shoos me toward the stairs. “Go, go.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice, even though he just did.

“Maybe next week, we move the price up to eighteen dollars,” Chilton suggests. “See if we lose anyone. Then the next class, twenty.”

“Subtle,” I say as I hurry back up the stairs. The class is totally silent when I get there. They all stare at me.

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