San Diego Noir

I walked slowly through the stacks, trying to relax. I didn’t really know how to behave in a library. I didn’t have a library card and had never been much of a reader. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, my heart had started to slow down again. I figured it was safe to leave, but as I got to the door I saw him, cell phone in hand. This time I knew I wasn’t imagining it.

I ran out a side door, through the parking lot of my motel, and up the stairs to my room, pulling out my keys so I would be exposed as little as possible. I was deciding whether to head to Vegas or Arizona. I grabbed my bag from the closet and filled it with my clothes. Luckily, I hadn’t had any time to shop so everything fit. I went back to the closet for my weed tin which still had three ounces and the rest of my money. I’ve never had a bank account. No papers, no driver’s license, no social, no bank account, so I always carried my fortune with me. I put the weed in the trunk and my money in my pocket.

I drove up the 8 into the mountains, where I figured I could hide off some side road for a while, at least while I split up my weed and formulated a plan. I saw a sign for a casino a few miles ahead and the light went on in my brain. Where there’s gambling there’s alcohol, drugs, and whores. The casino supplied the gambling and the booze but the whores and drug salesmen were independent contractors. I’d see if I could perform a service and unload some of this shit in the casino.

It felt good to have the beginnings of a plan. It gave me hope that I could get out of this mess I’d made. Maybe I could parlay the weed money into something in the casino and begin to pay Eddie part of the twenty-five large I owed him. That would take a load off my mind. I wasn’t made for living like this. Maybe I could talk to Eddie and Louie and enslave myself to them until my debts got paid. Man, I’d do anything to get those monkeys off my back. There was no way I could live another day looking around every corner. I turned the radio up and punched it. I was suddenly feeling as good as I’d felt in a few years. I was going to pay Louie and Eddie P. I was going to get that lawyer and fix my papers so I could get a driver’s license, a checking account, and real credit cards. I was going to make my mother proud.

As I got further east, traffic started to slow. Damn, there was always construction on these highways. You can’t get anywhere in a hurry anymore. Pretty soon the traffic stopped and I could see that a lane closed ahead. Holy crap, you never know how many cars are on the road until you see a jam like this. Maybe there was an accident. I leaned out of my window and stared back at an endless stream of traffic heading up the hill behind me, then I turned forward and saw border patrol trucks.

Fuck.

Nowhere to go.

I took three deep breaths and crept along, reassuring myself about everything. They won’t ask to look at my papers. I can pass for a citizen, I’m just going to the casino. It’s all good. As I got closer, however, I saw the sign. Working Dogs.Shit, this was bad. I’d double-wrapped the weed. Maybe the dogs wouldn’t smell it. I moved closer to the front of the line. I could feel myself shaking. I had to calm down before I gave myself away. As I got to the front, the damn dog started jumping up and down right next to my car. It was going crazy. The fed handling the animal brought it around the car and it kept leaping.

The guy leaned in and asked, “Sir, are you a U.S. citizen? ”

I said, “Yes.” Called his bluff.

“Sir, could you move your car to the side of the road, over there next to that ramp, please.” It wasn’t a question.

I glanced around. There was nowhere to go. I wasn’t meant for running.

“Please step out of the car, sir.”

I got out. What else could I do?

“I’m going to pat you down now.”

They were going to find it. They were going to find everything. I’d blown it. The dog was all over the car and I saw the fed pull the package out of the trunk.

“Sir, I’m going to read you your rights. Anything you say can …”

His words simply faded away. I couldn’t hear anything. Fear fell through me like a lead weight. It was over. At some point in the future I might be able to sneak back into the U.S., but I’d never have that golden ticket, that green card I’d wanted my entire life, and I was probably going to jail before being deported.

“Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”

I just nodded and looked back down the road.

There was nothing to see.

LIKE SOMETHING OUT OF A COMIC BOOK

BY GAR ANTHONY HAYWOOD

Convention Center

Everyone who’s ever seen the pages knows there’s something special about them. They can see it right away. Not because the pencil work itself is exceptional, because it isn’t, nor is there anything worth shouting about in the writing or the story or the substandard superheroes depicted in the panels.

It’s the inks.