Fat Tuesday(38)

"What?"

"I was just thinking." He continued to stare at the younger man as he took another sip of coffee. Lowering his cup, he said, "Maybe I could conveniently forget that I saw you with that minor last night.

Maybe I could overlook that you made a move on me in a park rest room tonight. I might be willing to let it go this time."

"If ..."

"If you do me a small favor." Gregory's expression turned wary."What kind of favor?"

"I can't discuss it with you until we strike a deal."

"That's not fair."

"Hell, no, it's not fair. But that's the gig, take it or leave it."

"Would I be working with Mac McCuen?"

"Why?" Burke winked at him."Got a crush on Mac?"

"Fuck you, Basile."

"Not in this lifetime, pal. I've noticed you ogling Mac, but if your heart is set on him, you just as well forget it. He's got a hot-to-trot wife who thinks his cock is a magic wand. Now, do we have a deal. Or not, because the offer is only good for another thirty seconds."

"If I say yes ..."

"You get off the hook this time. Otherwise we go uptown right now, and I book you."

"On what charge?"

"Soliciting me for sex in the men's room in the park. Twenty seconds."

"I didn't!"

"Because I didn't give you a chance."

"So you can't charge me."

"Of course I can. Who're they gonna believe, you or me?"

"Shit."

"Ten seconds."

Gregory dug into his wavy black hair with his fingers."You give me no choice."

"Not true. You can choose to say no. Maybe jail won't be so bad this time."

Gregory raised his head and looked at Burke with poignancy."Do you know what they do to guys like me in there?"

Burke did know, and at that moment he hated himself for manipulating the pitiful young man. And in Burke's human eyes, Gregory was pitiful.

But he had to view him through a cop's eyes, too. One of his offenses had taken place on a playground. It was hard to drum up compassion for a guy who'd exposed himself to a class of preschoolers.

"Time's up. What's it going to be?"

"What do you think?" Gregory mumbled dejectedly.

"Good." Burke stood up and moved to the coffeemaker to refill his cup, then patted Gregory's shoulder as he returned to his bar stool.

"Don't look so glum. This will be a challenging acting job. It could make your career."

I'll bet." Gregory glanced over at him."Tell me something, Basile.

How in hell did you know about the guy last night?"

It was an honest question that deserved an honest answer. Looking Gregory square in the eye, Burke replied, "I didn't. Lucky guess."

The following morning, Burke locked the door of his apartment on his way out, turned toward the stairs, and ran into Wayne Bardo's He landed ignominiously on his backside. Standing over him, Bardo laughed.

"Everybody says you're an *, Basile. I'm beginning to believe it."

His jaw throbbing, Burke came slowly to his feet. He wanted nothing better than to duck his head and ram it into the son of a bitch's gut He might get in a few good punches, but he was more curious than anvrv For the time being. Burke elected to spar verbally.

"Well at least I don't dress like a faggot. I bet the person who sold you that purple shirt is still laughing about it."

Although Bardo kept his smirk in place, Burke could tell the insult had hit home. He retaliated by saying sarcastically, "Nice digs, Basile."

"Thanks."

Burke didn't bother to ask how Bardo had located him. Duvall had a more sophisticated tracking system than that of the N.O.P.D, the FBI, the DEA, or any other law enforcement agency local, state or federal.

That's why he would never be convicted in court. There was only one way to stop Duvall and his machine, and Burke was going to do it.

It worried him that they knew where he lived. That meant that they'd been keeping tabs on him. Did they know he had tailed Mrs. Duvall yesterday? If not, why was Bardo here so bright and early?

As though reading his mind, he said, "Mr. Duvall wants to see you."

"Duvall can kiss my ass. And so can you."

Bardo stepped closer."Good. I like that. You're going to make this difficult. Please do. I'd purely love to hammer the shit out of you and leave it here on the landing to stink."

Burke wasn't intimidated by the threat, but he was curious to know how much they knew. Shrugging, he said, "Lead the way."

"No, after you." Bardo pushed him toward the stairs. Burke lost his balance and stumbled down to the first floor. When they reached the front of the building, Bardo shoved him again toward the street where a late-model Cadillac was parked at the curb.

"Hey, Wayne," Burke taunted, "when were you demoted from hit man to errand boy? Did Duvall take away your knives?"

"Shut up and keep your hands where I can see them."

"I'm not armed."

"You think I'm an idiot?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah."

When they reached the car, Bardo patted him down, then ran his hands down both inseams of Burke's trousers, finding nothing.