the Corvette Diner, a 1950s diner with an actual Corvette suspended from the ceiling. Waitresses wore poodle skirts, neon lights gleamed from the walls, and a working soda fountain ran the length of the restaurant. You could expect at least an hour wait any night of the week near dinnertime.
I parked the Jeep in front of the old hardware store just up the street and the three of us walked the block to the diner.
âI hope weâre not going here just because youâre hungry,â I said.
âAnd I hope youâre not whining just because youâre a little girl,â he said, opening the door to the restaurant for Dana and me.
Carter guided us over to the long bar at the soda fountain and the three of us slid onto the barstools. Sam Cookeâs âYou Send Meâ was coming from the speakers. Midday, the restaurant was almost full.
The guy working the counter looked over at us. He was about five-nine and reed-thin, with caramel-colored skin and dark brown eyes. A small, compact Afro was tucked under a white paper diamond-shaped hat. He wore white pants and a white shirt with a black bow tie.
When he recognized Carter, his eyes narrowed.
Carter removed his sunglasses and smiled. âWillie J. Whatâs going on?â
Willieâs frown intensified. âWhat the fuck you want?â
âThree cherry Cokes,â Carter asked.
Willie stared at him for a moment, then grabbed three glasses and filled them with soda. He slid them in front of us.
He looked at Carter. âThat all?â
Carter took a sip from the drink and shook his head. âNo.â
Willie leaned back against the counter. âHow did I guess?â
Dana looked at me. I just shrugged and watched the other two.
âI need a little info,â Carter said.
Willie didnât look impressed. âSo?â
âSo I need it from you.â
Willie folded his skinny arms across his skinny chest. âI donât owe you nothinâ right now. We square as of last month.â
Carter tilted his head to the side. âCome on, Willie. Youâre gonna need my help again. Right?â
Willie squirmed a little, but tried to hold on to his stance.
âWe both know Iâm right,â Carter said. âYour friends are going to come calling again. You just gonna run?â
I had no idea what they were talking about. But I could tell by Willieâs body language, as he uncrossed his arms and the angry frown dissolved to resignation, that Carter had him over a barrel.
âYou promise to keep them off me again?â Willie said, lowering his voice.
Carter held up a hand. âYou got my word.â
A crooked smile emerged on Willieâs face. ââCause they might be on my ass another time soon.â
âAnd Iâll be there to keep them off,â Carter assured him.
Willie reached out his fist and Carter met it with his own, sealing their deal.
I didnât want to know.
Willie relaxed. âAlright. What you need?â
Carter looked at me.
âKnow a guy named Deacon Moreno?â I asked.
Willie looked at me and then at Dana as if he were just realizing we were there. He looked back at Carter. âThey cool?â
âTheyâre with me, arenât they?â
Dana tried to cover up a smile with her hand while I attempted to look somewhat trustworthy.
Willie looked back at me. âI know Moreno.â
âWhatâs he into?â I asked.
Willie shrugged his pointy shoulders. âPretty much whatever he wants.â
âGuns?â
âFor sure.â
âHeâs in a gang?â
He glanced at Carter, needing a little reassurance before answering me. Carter nodded at him.
âSouth Bay Niners,â Willie said to me. âThey run everything south of the bridge.â
âThe bridge?â
âCoronado, dude. South Bay âcause thatâs where they run. Niners âcause they all rockinâ