Free The Cut (Spero Lucas) by George P. Pelecanos Page B

either the most complicated guy I ever met or the simplest.”
    “I’m the simplest.”
    “You’re
smart
. You read a bunch. You should try school again.”
    “Not gonna happen,” said Lucas. “Does that bother you?”
    “No.”
    “But it will.”
    “Maybe.” She reached across the table, put her hand over his, and squeezed it. “It doesn’t bother me tonight.”
    Lucas signaled the waitress.
    TAVON LYNCH and Edwin Davis drove east over the Benning Bridge in Tavon’s SS, passing streetlamps haloed in mist. The Anacostia River flowed darkly beneath them. They were headed toward central Northeast, a part of the city that was largely unfamiliar to them. A Backyard CD, a live at the Tradewinds thing with Big G on vocals, was playing low in the car. As Tavon accelerated, the young men felt the buzz and rumble of the Impala’s twin pipes.
    “Why’d you have to tell him ’bout the package?” said Edwin.
    “We’re gonna have to tell Anwan,” said Tavon. “And then he’s gonna put Spero on this one, too. Might as well be up front about it from now.”
    “What’s his last name?”
    “Lucas.”
    “He don’t seem like the type to give up.” Edwin rubbed at the whiskers on his chin. “You tell them about him?”
    “No need to jam him up. He ain’t gonna find anything anyway.”
    “Had the feeling he was gonna sit out there on Twelfth Street all day.”
    “Man keeps hard at it,” said Tavon. “Got to give him that.”
    Tavon admired Lucas’s work ethic. He believed that he, Tavon, was of the same stripe. He and his boy Edwin were young, but they had been on it for a while.
    Tavon had grown up in Chillum, the youngest of a large family, now scattered. He was closest with his eldest brother, Samuel, who had done time in his youth but was now living straight. Edwin was from a smaller family that lived in an apartment in West Hyattsville. Edwin saw his father occasionally and of late had begun to reestablish a relationship with him; Tavon had no relationship with his father at all. Both of them had graduated from Northwestern High School, where Len Bias had played, on Adelphi Road.
    They were into watching sports on TV and playing video games, but mostly they loved nightlife. Tavon caught reggae at the Crossroads and dancehall at TNT and Mirage Hall, and hung out with Edwin at the go-go and hip-hop clubs in the city and in Prince George’s County. The Ibex had been shuttered long ago, and so had the Black Hole, but shows were live in places like Legend on Naylor Road, Icon in Waldorf, the Scene, D.C. Star off Bladensburg, and 24. Tavon and Edwin beat their feet to Reaction, TOB, Backyard, Junk Yard, old bands like EU with Sugar Bear at Haydee’s, and up-and-comers like ABM. They tipped the doormen, the bouncers, and the men guarding the parkinglots, and soon they were in the VIP rooms for free and never had to be on the lower floors with those who stood in line. They met a promoter named Princess Lady who got them started on her street team, passing out flyers for a flat fee of thirty dollars a night, then they graduated into real promotion money, creating a guest list for the door that brought in three to five dollars a head. They made up stage names, Young Tay and E-Rolla. They always looked fresh.
    In the VIP loft of one of the big clubs off New York Avenue they met Anwan Hawkins, who most everyone knew by sight. He was approachable, an older man who didn’t have to front or act hard because he wasn’t trying to get somewhere; he was
there
. After several nights partying with Anwan, they began to do a little work for him on the side, keeping their promotion enterprise going all the while. Anwan moved them up quick and kept them busy, and the weed work overtook the promotion stuff and made it seem less important. Soon they were Anwan’s seconds and they let their show business aspirations die.
    Thing of it was, they weren’t making all that much money. Only Anwan was bringing it in big. But the life