Free The Sleeping and the Dead by Jeff Crook

that was it.
    I knew I could get the money from Michi, but I’d already gone to that well once too often lately. I looked through the camera again and knew I had to have it. I couldn’t part with it now. “Can you wait until tomorrow?” I asked. He was definitely interested and it took every scrap of my remaining dignity not to lay it on sweet and thick and let him get ideas. He seemed like a nice enough guy. He was already willing to come down five hundred. I could have put my hand on his knee and talked him down another couple hundred, but I didn’t want it that way. I liked him for some reason. “I’m pretty sure I can get you the full twenty-five if you give me until tomorrow. I know somebody who might buy some pictures.”
    He scoured his lightly stubbled chin with his palm. I watched him mentally calculate something, reject it, rethink it, recalculate. I picked up my beer and polished it off. The bartender started over, but I put my hand over the top of the glass.
    â€œDo you have two right now?” he asked.
    â€œYeah.…” I wasn’t about to buy a Leica M8 for two thousand. If he sold it for two, it was either ganked or busted. I might as well throw two grand off the Harahan Bridge.
    â€œOK,” he said. He set his hand flat on the bar and stared at it. He was nervous about something. I thought he must have stolen it and was now desperate to get rid of it. He seemed too nice to be a thief, but then again, what was a thief supposed to look like?
    â€œHow about you give me the two now,” he said without looking at me, “and the other five hundred tomorrow night.” He still didn’t look at me.
    â€œTomorrow night?”
    â€œWe could have dinner, drinks, whatever.”
    Oh Jesus , I thought. “Whatever?”
    â€œAnywhere you want to go. But I need at least two grand today.” He looked at me finally. He was blushing. Christ. He was shy.
    â€œYou’re asking me out?”
    â€œI guess.” Not looking at me again, his face pink. Morbidly shy.
    â€œI’m married.” I showed him my hand with the wedding ring.
    â€œOh.” His blush deepened to a flaming Irish red. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see … it.” Morbidly shy and clueless. I liked him now more than ever. My mother always said I got my mean streak from my grandfather—the dentist. I let James dangle for a bit, slowly twisting on his bar stool like a worm on a hook. He started to pack the camera away. I hated to let it go. I’d never get another chance to buy a Leica at this price, but I wasn’t about to trade myself for it. No matter how much I liked the guy.
    He snapped the case shut, set it on the bar again, and looked at me, no longer blushing. “OK. If you can get me the other five tomorrow, you can keep her.”
    â€œKeep it?”
    â€œSure. Go ahead and take her with you.” He pushed it toward me. “That’s what car salesmen do, isn’t it? Let you take her for a test drive, get used to the idea she’s yours.”
    â€œWell … thanks.” He was a salesman after all. He had me nailed. I dug the envelope with the two grand from my pocket and put it in his hand.
    He tucked it away without even looking to see what was inside. He said, “Just don’t forget where you got it.”
    â€œI won’t.” Smiling now. “I promise.” I shook his hand again, warmly, and took the camera. What did I care if it was stolen? It was a Leica! I dropped a five on the bar and James followed me out into the parking lot.
    He opened a big black umbrella just outside the door. The rain hammered on the taut fabric like a bucket full of marbles. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.
    *   *   *
    I grabbed one of Deiter’s doughnuts and crammed it in my mouth. He stopped on the first picture I’d taken of the cops onstage at the Orpheum.