The Devil in Silver

“All done?” she asked loudly. Not for the patients but for Scotch Tape. She didn’t much care for his benevolent-king routine, especially since she and the other nurse (Nurse Washburn hadn’t learned the woman’s name yet) outranked him. She wandered among the tables twice, as if taking a count, then she stopped alongside Scotch Tape. She stood next to him but didn’t face him. (She didn’t want it to appear like she was reporting to him.) He stayed seated. Nurse Washburn said, “If we’re all done, then we can line up.”

Scotch Tape pointed at his plate, the crusts of his two slices. He hadn’t been meaning to eat them until Nurse Washburn spoke up. “I’m not finished,” he said.

“Can’t you can take them with you?”

Scotch Tape stayed silent. The patients watched both of them. Everywhere you go, someone is vying for power! Nurse Washburn, a white woman who wanted to assert the hard-won dignity of her position. Scotch Tape, a black man who loathed public disrespect. Somehow leaving a pizza parlor had turned into a war of the oppressed.

The stalemate was broken by Sal. He walked into the dining area, waving a slip of paper.

“Who’s going to take the check?” he asked.

That worked like a bell signaling the end of a round. Nurse Washburn walked off to pay the bill, shoulders pulled back proudly as she was the one entrusted with the hospital’s card. Scotch Tape wolfed down his crusts (which he hated), then sprang up and clapped for all the patients to get in line as if that had been his idea. Everyone was happy.

Pepper and Loochie stood side by side. Mr. Mack was in front of them, alone. He turned back and looked at the pair, up and down.

“You two sure got close,” he said, leering at them.

“Close?” Pepper asked, sounding thrown. To him it was like Mr. Mack had suggested he was sleeping with his niece.

Loochie grabbed Pepper’s arm. “Close like Bethlehem and Nazareth.”

Mr. Mack leaned back, surprised. Loochie batted her eyelashes at Pepper and smiled. “Isn’t that right?”

“Most definitely,” Pepper said.

He knew she was just fucking with Mr. Mack, but Loochie had also spoken the truth. To his great surprise, and hers, Loochie was now his closest friend.

They expected this would be enough to shoo Mr. Mack away, but like a fruit fly, the man kept hovering. “Put out your hand,” he said.

Pepper did. If Mr. Mack spat into his palm, he realized, he was going to crack the guy in the chest.

As Nurse Washburn returned from paying the bill, Mr. Mack dropped a white envelope into Pepper’s open hand. As soon as it landed, it curled into a tube.

“Dorry gave that to you,” Mr. Mack said. “But you left it on a table.”

Pepper had totally forgotten about it. Loochie went on her toes then so she could see it better.

“You opened it,” Pepper said. The top of the envelope showed the tear.

“You left it there, so I picked it up,” Mr. Mack said. “Caveat emptor. Let the buyer beware.”

Pepper sighed. “That’s not what that means.”

“Carpe diem,” he tried.

“That’s better,” Pepper said.

“What was in it?” Loochie asked.

At the front of the line, Nurse Washburn and Scotch Tape were both trying to assert their place of leadership. Until they made peace, the group couldn’t even walk out of Sal’s, let alone march back to the hospital.

Mr. Mack cut his eyes at Loochie. “A map and a …”

“Come on now!” Sal shouted from behind the counter. “You’re blocking my door!”

Food served, prayers shared, bill paid. Now get the fuck outta here.

So Scotch Tape and Nurse Washburn tried to walk through the doorway simultaneously. They crunched each other. Then Scotch Tape held the door and Nurse Washburn waved the patients through. The group moved.

“A map of what?” Pepper asked.

Mr. Mack didn’t answer until they were outside. “The whole building,” he said. “First floor and second floor. Including the exit.”

“An escape?” Loochie asked.

Mr. Mack tapped his temple. “That’s the idea.”

Pepper grabbed at Mr. Mack’s small shoulder. It was like seeing a teenager maul a toddler. But Mr. Mack had more vinegar than a one-year-old. Pepper grabbed him and Mr. Mack smacked the big man’s hand off. And it hurt.

“Let me see it,” Pepper said.

Mr. Mack broke formation and walked alongside Loochie, the three of them in a row. “That idea is void,” Mr. Mack said. “Everything stays with me.”

“Dorry gave it to me.”

Mr. Mack looked ahead of him and behind.

“You think I’m going to let you run the show,” Mr. Mack whispered. “And get myself killed like Coffee did? No. That’s void.”

“Stop saying that,” Loochie told him.

“We’re going for the change-up this time,” Mr. Mack continued in full voice, so the nearest patients would hear him. “You don’t lead, you follow. I’ve already studied Dorry’s map. There’s a way to get from our rooms up to that second floor. From the second floor we can slip out without notice.”

“Fine,” Pepper huffed, wishing he’d been smart enough to just grab the envelope when Dorry offered it. “Who’s going?”

“Mr. Mack!” Nurse Washburn pointed at him as they reached the corner. “Lines of two.”