Free Bait: A Novel by J. Kent Messum Page A

Each of Pablo’s scars called out, inviting Maria’s curiosity. The woman slurred her words, further thickening her heavy Cuban accent.
    “How did it get like that?”
    “How do you mean?” Pablo asked.
    “Like all cut up and shit.”
    She could tell Pablo didn’t want to talk about it. He dragged his fingers over the three slim scars that raked his left cheek, and then ran his thumb over the two thick ones near his sideburn. The ugly excrescence that cleaved his forehead he avoided touching altogether. Maria figured the worst memory came with that one.
    “Knives made my face like this mostly,” he said finally. “But some are from fire.”
    Pablo picked up the bottle of malt liquor at his feet, turned away, and took a long drink. Maria wanted to ask who had used the knives and fire on the short Mexican, and why, but held her tongue. There were a lot of rumors going around about her companion. Some said he had connections to the cartels. Some said he was a snitch. Everyone knew he was more addict than dealer. In the glow of a single bare bulb that hung above a nearby restaurant back door, Maria saw more marks, small and white, on the nape of his neck. Pablo was the most scarred man she’d ever seen.
    “They’re from a long time ago,” Pablo said. “Another lifetime.”
    He stood and stretched, inspecting the alleyway he and Maria had chosen for their fix. There was never a time when Pablo didn’t seem paranoid, but with all the cuts and burns he’d collected over the years, Maria didn’t think it strange.
    “A couple of them were accidental,” he continued. “But the rest . . .”
    Maria held up a hand. “S’okay, you don’t have to say no more.”
    Pablo nodded and took another swig. Maria drank from her can of cheap beer, crushing the tin inadvertently in her shaky grip. She was jonesing for a hit. Pablo hadn’t shown her what he’d scored from around the corner yet and Maria was getting desperate for a glimpse.
    “That stuff you got us. It’s good shit, no?”
    Pablo patted the breast pocket of his checkered shirt. “It don’t get any better than this,
chica
.”
    “Well, what we waiting for?”
    Pablo looked around the alley again, unsure. Maria could sense that something wasn’t quite right. He scanned the brick walls, scrutinizing shadows, looking for anything that might seem out of place. Both of them had been shaken down by cops in recent days, but luckily neither was holding at the time. If they did get cornered with possession, Maria would give up Pablo in a heartbeat. She had a bad habit of throwing others under the bus to help maintain her own freedoms.
    “I don’t want anyone intruding on us,” Pablo said. “Just wanna make sure we got some privacy.”
    Maria had a way of dealing with uninvited guests who encroached on her cooking. She would simply hold up a dirty needle and ask them if they wanted HIV. It was an empty threat, as far as she knew, but enough to scare anyone off. Looking at Pablo, Maria didn’t know if he was more worried about getting caught with a bubbling spoon or with his pants around his ankles. She wondered which they would do first. The dope was all she wanted. She’d only take Pablo between her legs first if he threatened to hold out on her with the goods.
    “S’okay, Pablo,” Maria said. “No one will disturb us. Let’s get started.”
    Pablo looked at her, uncertain. Another full sweep of his surroundings drew a shrug out of him and he stood down.
    “Fine,” he said and began to undo his belt buckle.
    Maria hesitated. “You want fuck first?”
    “Don’t you?”
    “I like being high when we do it.”
    “I don’t.”
    It was an argument she couldn’t win. Maria reluctantly removed her pants and sat down on a piece of flattened cardboard, the cleanest she could find in the alley. She didn’t take off her panties; those she would pull to one side when Pablo was hard enough. It would take him a little time before he was.
    She watched as