Read The Perdition Score for Free Online

them turns to me.
    â€œHey, I like this stuff. Who made you king high shithead of Scotch?”
    I start to say something, but he backs up a step and his mouth opens like a roast pig waiting for an apple. The guy isslumming it tonight. He tried to dress down because he knew he was coming here, but the manicure and the million-dollar college ring give him away.
    â€œOh shit,” he says. “You’re him. I heard you hang out here. Can I buy you a drink?”
    Carlos waves the guy off.
    â€œNot tonight, man. Come back at Christmas. He’ll be a chipper fucker by then. Won’t you, Stark?”
    I look at Carlos, not at the groupie.
    â€œThanks, but I have a drink.”
    â€œThen, can I get a picture with you?” he says. “I swear it will only take a second.”
    â€œWhat did I just tell you, pendejo ?” says Carlos. “Not tonight.”
    Out of the corner of my eye I can see the guy turn from Carlos to me and back to Carlos. He holds up his hands.
    â€œFine. Be an asshole. You’re not that special, you know. I’ve met lots more cool people here and what do you call them . . . ?”
    â€œLurkers,” I say.
    â€œYeah. Lots more interesting ones than you.”
    I look at him.
    â€œThere’s lots here that love guys like you. Just be sure to check your wallet before you go home.”
    He takes the cash for the drink out of his front pocket. He slaps himself on his back pocket, hoping to hit imported hand-tooled leather. By the look on his face I’d say he came up empty.
    â€œShit,” he says, and checks another pocket, coming upwith his iPhone. He looks relieved. At least he can still text his buddies about his night with the wild people on the bad side of town.
    He thumbs the phone on and says, “Please. So the night isn’t a total loss. Just one picture.”
    â€œGet out,” says Carlos. “You don’t listen, so you can’t stay. Move. Now.”
    I look at Richie Rich.
    â€œBetter do what he says or he’ll hit you with a coconut carved like a monkey.”
    The guy gives up. Puts his phone in his breast pocket, sadder but wiser.
    â€œI get it. Sorry to have bothered you. I’m going. Besides,” he says, “you look like hell.”
    â€œNow,” says Carlos.
    Richie starts for the door.
    Carlos shakes his head.
    â€œSome people couldn’t buy a clue with all the gold in Fort Knox.”
    I hold up my glass, toast Carlos, and down my drink.
    â€œThank you, Doctor. I’m feeling much better now. How’s my eye?”
    He looks and nods.
    â€œIt’s getting there.”
    Then he looks up past me.
    Someone throws his arm around me and clicks a picture. It’s Trump and his iPhone. I turn just in time to see him scrambling out the front door with my bruised face in his hand.
    Perfect.
    So, to sum up the evening. A Sherman tank with the brain of an angry hamster gave me a black eye, and now some college boy snuck up behind me and got my picture without me even knowing he was there. I think this is what’s known as a wake-up call. Something has to change. Starting with me.
    â€œYou have any food left back there tonight?”
    â€œSome tamales with some beans and rice. You want some to go?”
    â€œCould I get three?”
    â€œNo problem.”
    He disappears into the back and reappears with a packed paper bag.
    I sniff the food and smile.
    â€œWhat do I owe you?”
    â€œYou know you always eat and drink for free around here,” he says.
    â€œNot for the food. The advice.”
    â€œAll you owe me is not fucking yourself up anymore. Do that and we’re square.”
    I set down the rag I’ve been holding to my eye and pick up the food.
    â€œI’ll work on it.”
    â€œYou do that. And tell Chihiro hi for me.”
    â€œYou got it.”
    I got out to the car and set the food on the passenger seat. Donald Trump is halfway down the block showing