Read Blues for Zoey for Free Online Page B

Instead, I went a bit closer.
    â€œI’m looking for A-Man. He around?”
    B-Man paused for a second, then went on pacing. “If you know where he is, could you tell me?” More pacing. More muttering.
    â€œB-Man? It’s me, Kaz. From the Sit ’n’ Spin. I work for Mr. Rodolfo, remember?”
    The moment I said “Mr. Rodolfo,” B-Man flinched. I had his full attention. But instead of telling me where A-Man was, he charged at me.
    Nomi yelled from the car. “Kazuo!”
    I turned to run, but Razor already had a whiff of B-Man ’s rage. She was between me and the car, barking and farting for all she was worth. Before I could get away, B- Man grabbed hold of my T-shirt, pulling my face right inside the mouth of his hood. His breath in ther e was almost as bad as what spewed from Ra zor’s ass crack.
    â€œYou tell John,” B-Man said through gritted teeth, “that A-Man has the money.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” John was Mr. Rodolfo’s first name.
    â€œMoney. From the poker.”
    I heard Calen start the car , and for a second I thought he was about to bail on me. But he didn’t. He gunned the engine and drove toward us. B-Man’s eyes bugged out, and even Razor was shaken. She let out a skittish stream of little putt-putt-putt farts. Calen screeched to a halt and climbed out. He raised his hands to sho w B-Man they were empty.
    â€œ Hey, guy, we’re not looking for any t rouble, okay? Let go of my friend and we’ll leave you alone.”
    He started to come around the car, but Ra zor growled at him. Meanwhile, instead of obeying Calen and letting go of me, B-Man re-tightened his grip on my T-shirt.
    â€œCool it, B,” said a voice. “Kaz do n’t know the first thing about it.”
    It was A-Man, B-Man ’s only friend (no one knew what the A stood for, either). They were both ex-soldiers and they had served together in Afghanistan. Going over ther e shattered something in B-Man, or maybe he was already cracked to begin with. Anyway, neither one of them fared well after the big pullout. Now they both live full-time at the Emerson Center.
    A-Man strolled out from the far side of the Dumpsters, zipping his fly. He had been back there the whole time, taking a piss.
    â€œI told you before,” he said to B-Man. “It’s all cool with me and Rodolfo. You gotta quit making such a big deal about it. Besides, I got till the end of the month to pay him.”
    â€œYou do?” B-Man looked confused. It was possible he didn’t know what month it was.
    â€œIt’s really nothing.” A-Man ambled over to us. Seeing the two of them side by side, you really got a sense of what opposites they were. B-Man was a short, squat, muscly white dude, while A-Man was tall, spidery, and black. One thing they shared, however, was a penchant for headgear. A-Man topped off his bald head with a kufi skull cap. It had once been white (I assume), but he wo re it so often it was turning more the color of—well, me. Kind of yellowy-brown.
    â€œLet go of him, B. He’s just a kid.”
    B-Man obeyed.
    â€œWha t’s going on?” A-Man asked me. He pee red into Calen’s Volkswagen.
    I explained how we’d been shot down trying to buy beer for a party, and I thought maybe if we gave him the money, he could buy it for us.
    A-Man had a thick black goatee around his mouth. He rubbed it thoughtfully. “Who’s the kid?” he asked.
    â€œThat’s my sister.”
    â€œ Okay, well, it’s not like I’m above buying booze for a minor, but c’ mon—not that minor.”
    â€œDon’t worry, she’s not coming. We’ re dropping her off.”
    A-Man gave his goatee another rub. He had the sort of ey es that were always still, his lids always heavy and half-closed. It didn’t give the impression he was bored or half-asleep; more that he was calmly considering