The Fifteenth Street Posse is run by a guy named Scratch. We kind of met last year. Scratch wasn’t on my side then. Bun seems to think he was on his though. More to the point, he’s here now.
Scratch is a dapper-looking guy, not much bigger than me, who dresses like he works in a bank but is planning to own it. I spot him through my fogged-up glasses as AmberLea and I walk into the Tim Hortons where Jade works. He’s sitting at a table away from the windows with his back to the wall, wearing a fitted black overcoat and white silk scarf combo that Bond would go for. I shrug my Harry Palmer curling sweater higher.
Beside Scratch is a guy I’m guessing is one of the Posse. He’s black, too, and in full hip-hop gear, from his giant NY fullback cap to unlaced Timberland boots.
“Buffalo Boy,” Scratch says as we reach the table. “We meet again.” He half stands and nods to AmberLea. “You were there too. That was a sweet bluff.” AmberLea nods back. “This is X,” Scratch goes on, nodding now at the other guy. “Ran with your man Bunny, who is our man too.”
“X-Ray.” The other guy winces. “I’m not some no-name X.”
“That’s true,” says Scratch. “Now that you’ve told the world, let’s take a walk.”
“I’m not done my hot chocolate,” says X-Ray.
“We’ll get another later,” Scratch says, buttoning his coat. “It’ll taste better after some fresh air.”
“Man, it’s cold out there.”
“Meter’s running, X.” Scratch slips a black tablet case under his arm.
“At least let me roll up the rim.” X-Ray fumbles with the paper cup. We wait while he doesn’t win anything.
We head out into the cold and walk the block back to Fifteenth Street. There’s car traffic but not many people out walking. “Run it down for me again,” says Scratch. AmberLea and I give him a recap about Bunny being snatched by the SPCA, Bunny’s phone call and how what he sees from the window seems like Fifteenth Street. “We need your help to find him,” AmberLea finishes. “We thought if he’s in your territory, you’d know where he could be. Newman is the name on the mailbox.”
“If it is Fifteenth, why wouldn’t Bunny know it?” Scratch asks.
“They might have brainwashed him,” I say. I know it sounds lame, but it’s all I’ve got.
Scratch looks at me while he chews that one over. Finally he nods. “Okay. Uh-huh. It could fit. There’s a house partway down Fifteenth we’ve been wondering about. Weird people moved in last month. White, with funny accents. Lots of coming and going, and they act strange. Don’t know about the mailbox.”
“Any of them drive an old Civic with a sagging rear bumper and a loud muffler?”
Scratch looks at me. “Dude, the whole neighborhood drives that car. You might recall that I drive one of those—though I’m upgrading shortly.”
“Right,” I say.
“Doesn’t matter what their ride is. Today is the day we get acquainted.”
We turn down Fifteenth Street by the muffler place. We pass the Domino’s Pizza, the tagged brick wall of the gym. Up ahead, the speed-limit sign with a 30. “My god,” says AmberLea, “it does all fit.” My heart starts revving.
“All that’s missing is a bus saying London Transport,” I mutter.
“Huh?” AmberLea says. “Oh, like in The Ipcress File? I loved that bit.”
I told you we were perfect for each other.
“Next block,” says Scratch, his breath clouding the air. “Five houses in.” I count down to a tired-looking frame house with smeary white siding. From here I can see a side window with a view up toward us. That could be the one Bunny looked out of. He could be looking out of it now. Scratch says, “You two turn down the next street. We’ll take it from here.”
“No way,” I say. “Bunny’s my brother. Besides, I might recognize someone.”
“Right,” says AmberLea.
Scratch sighs a little cloud. “They more likely recognize you.”
“Not with this.” I pull out the beard and mustache. AmberLea grabs the mustache and slaps it on herself. I stick on the beard and my shades.
Scratch just shakes his head. “Let’s make it more difficult.” He sighs. “Come on then.”
A white SUV turns out of the side street ahead of us and rolls farther down the block, pulling in near the first low-rise apartment building. It has red-andwhite government plates. Nobody gets out.
“Check it out,” Scratch says.
X-Ray shakes his head. “New to me.”
Then a police cruiser passes, like one did the last time I came here. X-Ray hunches into the collar of his down vest. Scratch just struts along. The cruiser passes the SUV and keeps going right to the end of the street, down by the lake, where it starts to turn around. It’s just another day in Mimico, I guess. It doesn’t feel like it to me.
Just before the cross street, Scratch says to X-Ray without looking at him, “Dress me up.” He slows as he steps off the curb, just enough for X-Ray to jostle him. AmberLea nudges me. From a halfstep behind, I see something slip from X-Ray’s hand into the pocket of Scratch’s cool black overcoat. A gun. As we cross, Scratch says to X-Ray, “Who’s around back?”
“T Bird and Ripple.”
“Dressed?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good,” Scratch says. To us he says, “Here’s the rules. If you’re really with this, I do the talking, you do the smiling and staying out of the way. If things, uh, escalate, bail. You don’t want to have to go to emerg; they get nosy about puncture wounds.”
“Got it.” I swallow hard.
“Okay. Together we fly. Know that?”
“It’s what Bunny’s tattoo should have said. From Grandpa’s squadron in World War Two.”
“It’s on my shoulder. That means, Bunny’s in there, he flies with us, no matter what it takes. That’s all there is to it.”
We’re almost there. Walking like this reminds me of the second-last scene in a ’60s movie I watched in the fall, called The Wild Bunch. The old outlaws walk down the deserted Mexican street to the last shootout. Then the camera cuts to around the corner, where there’s a whole army with machine guns waiting for them. The last scene, in slow motion, I’d rather not think about, especially in cowboy boots.
We go up the walkway and crowd onto the tiny concrete porch. On the siding by the door are two screws and an oblong patch of cleaner white where a mailbox would hang. My heart skips. There’s a ratty blind hanging askew in the front window. Scratch takes a business card out of his tablet case, then knocks. We hear the tread of feet from inside. I draw in a quick breath. Then the door swings open.