..... I take Earl to Sandy's Sho-Nuff Chicken Shack, out on 1&9.
..... Sandy's got strong arms and a behind like two hams in the chiller at the grocery store. She works the stove behind the counter, never stops. Got her natural hair tied back, and a big smile for hungry men. She's the color of root beer. She pops the cap off my second bottle.
..... "Sandy, you whup the Colonel's ass," Earl says.
..... "You'll make me blush," she says, filling a foil to-go plate with greens and yams. Two Southern truckers with beards, white boys, wait by the screen door.
..... I work my second plate clockwise. "You got any Jello, Sandy?"
..... "Just sweet potato and pecan pies, baby."
..... "I heard sometimes you got Jello," I say again.
..... She rings up the truckers. "Y'all enjoy this now."
..... "I know we will, ma'am," the younger one says.
..... Sandy watches them take their plates to their trucks, then leans over. "Denny, why you asking about the junkman?"
..... "Took my dog," Earl says.
..... Sandy shakes her head.
..... "She's a pup. Ain't more than a few months old."
..... She sighs. "She'll be bait, then. Or he'll knock her teeth out, make her a breeder."
..... "What's bait?" I ask.
..... Sandy wrinkles her little nose. "Dogs they hurt, to get the fighters worked up."
..... "That's a damn shame to do to a sweet thing," Earl says.
..... "He fights them in the junkyard on Doremus. The dogs guard it at night," Sandy says, wiping the counter. "They say no one but the trainers can get in there without getting torn up."
..... "He pays five hundred for a dog. I can't afford to buy her back." Earl looks down.
..... "He makes a lot more than that on a fight. Had to kick out my man Caesar, he was betting there. I don't have no truck with a gambler."
..... "When they fight?" I ask.
..... "Friday nights," Sandy says.
..... I start on my second slice of sweet potato pie. We leave Sandy a good tip.

*********************

..... The teachers shook their heads when I said I got in fights. Sent me to the nurse's office. The nurse shined light in my eyes. "You can play gym. Anything you want to tell me, Dennis?"
..... "No," I said.
..... In the weeks that passed, Milton's cigar box got swollen with bills. I think about taking it, buying a moving truck. Helping people move. But I can't leave Randy and Kaycee.
..... "Feed that boy something good," Milton told Alice.
..... "Boy can eat what I give him." She slopped some Hamburger Helper on my plate.
..... Randy and Kaycee each get a little.
..... "Give them more," I said.
..... Randy and Kaycee looked at me, frightened.
..... "What did that boy say?"
..... "We don't want more, Miss Alice."
..... "Hear that, Denty? They don't want more," Alice said, her back to me. "Shut your mouth and eat."

*********************

..... Earl says, "This Jello sounds like a bad man, Denny."
..... It's Thursday. Tomorrow, Remy might be torn up. Or have her teeth yanked out with pliers, by the time we're done working. I park my Ford in front of Kieslowski's Auto Salvage, by the port. Big cranes salute the bay on the other side of the road. I see rusty cars stacked through the razor wired fence. The office lights are on.
..... Earl stays in the truck until I go through the gate, then hurries after.
..... "We can work it off. Five hundred. Bring him some wrecks. We can tow 'em with a rope," Earl says.
..... Men lounge in chairs, behind the yellow windows. I slap the steel door.
..... Skinny boy answers.
..... "Shit, it's the old man and the Shaq-lookin' motherfucker I was telling you about."
..... "Send him in." Deep voice.
..... I step in, Earl in tow. Football boy and a man wearing a do-rag and gray worksuit sit in folding chairs. There's a dirty counter with a register, shelves full of auto parts.
..... "Damn, Cecil. He is bigger'n me," says a man with pecs like pumpkin halves and a gut like a barrel. Meaty arms covered in jailhouse ink.
..... I got three inches on him. He reaches out to shake. My hand's lost in his.
..... "Like catcher's mitts, Moms used to say," he chuckles and puts the crush on.
..... I stare at him, don't squeeze back. My bones grind.
..... "You don't say much, do you?
..... "Mister Jello, sir," Earl says from behind me. "I just want my dog back please."
..... Jello lets go, and pats my arm. "What's your name, old man?"
..... "Earl."
..... "No one calls me that to my face, Earl." Jello sucker punches Earl in the ribs. He yelps and goes down.
..... It's on.
..... I grab Skinny boy's arm and send him flying over the counter. Jello tackles me, crushes me with his weight. Floorboards crack as we land. I sit up and grip his face, thumbs going for the eyes. A thick neck's hard to snap. I figure to jam my fingers to the last knuckle, get his brain. He roars.
..... I hear a shotgun get racked. I keep going. Do-rag man cracks my head with the butt, then puts the barrel to Earl's knee.
..... "Let go."
..... I slide my thumbs away. Jello clambers up, panting.
..... "Now you get to see the dogs," he says, boots me in the crotch.
..... I let the pain fill me up. For later.

*********************

..... "A boxing ring," Milton said. "This is the big time."
..... We were in a gym that night, with lots of people. Italians in suits. Bangers in 8-Ball jackets and throwback jerseys. Room full of smoke.
..... "Where's your cut man?" A swarthy old guy in a tracksuit looked me over. Pushed a finger in my dent.
..... "It's all me," Milton laughed. "Trainer, manager, cut man, all that shit."
..... "It's your funeral, kid." He checked my hands, patted me on the back. "Watch that ear."
..... My opponent was a big tan-skinned man who looked swollen, mapped with green tattoos. Had a thin mustache and the dead eyes I see in the mirror every morning.
..... "Oh, shit," Milton said.
..... "Get in the ring," the ref said.
..... I bent under the ropes.
..... "Where's the bet man?" Milton said.
..... I let all the fear drain out. He couldn't throw me into a wall. Or flick cigarettes in my crib. Couldn't rape my dead Momma or burn her alive. All he could do was break my body, and that pain's far away, like another country.
..... The bell rang. He circled. I charged. It was over quick.
..... Left eye was swollen shut. I spat pieces of teeth, like the hard beans in Alice's soup. I cradled the tan man's limp body over my knee. I'd slammed it there, just before.
..... "Broke his fuckin' back," said an Italian with slicked gray hair.
..... The ref checked for a pulse. "Get him to St. Michael's, Mr. Dellamorte," he said.
..... Italian boys in sweatsuits jumped in the ring. One patted my shoulder. "You got heart, bro."
..... They carried tan man out.
..... I found Milton arguing with the bookie.
..... "I didn't bet it all on him," he said. "I was covering my bets!"
..... "You lost. Now fuck off."
..... We walked home. I held a beer to my eye. Rolled it over the squishy flesh. Milton drank from his.
..... "Why'd you do that? Should've been disqualified. Cost me a lot of money, retard."
..... We passed the dog yard. Stan wasn't out front.
..... "Milton," I said.
..... "What, you dumb hunk of shit?"
..... Felt good when the bottle broke on his head. Better when I dragged the shards back and forth over his face. He made a lot of noise. The dogs came running. I heaved him over the fence into Stan's yard. He groped blindly. I felt bad, throwing the other bottle at him. It hit one of the dogs attached to his face.
..... I hopped over, went to the tool bucket. Found what I needed.

*********************

..... The dogs howl and yap behind us. I pull Earl by the back of his overalls through the maze of cars.
..... "Cracked my ribs. Can't breathe," Earl wheezes.
..... Can't see much in the yellow glow of the streetlights. I look for something we can climb. Heave Earl up on the hood of a burned out taxi.
..... "Up," I say.
..... Dozen dogs home in on us. I see a stack of three flattened cars, pretty close. I can jump it, but Earl can't.
..... "They're like meat-seeking missiles," Earl gasps.
..... I grab his collar and the seat of his pants. "Gonna throw you."
..... "You crazy?"
..... I spin like playing airplane, then heave him at the stack.
..... He grabs on, legs flailing. I see the black shapes swarm in. Earl starts kicking.
..... My boots dent the roof as I leap over. The metal cuts my hands deep, but I get up. I grab Earl's arms. They bite his legs, one on each. He shrieks like a girl.
..... "Stop kicking," I tell him.
..... Another dog jumps between the other two and bites down. He looks like Kaycee did, with the bobby pin.
..... I roar and throw him and the dogs on the top of the wreck. One dog twists, falls off with a mouthful. I heard that their jaws lock. That you gotta kill them to make them let go.
..... I go for the eyes of the dog on his crotch first.
..... It yelps and lets go. I throw it off the car.
..... Earl starts pounding the other dog. It grabs on harder.
..... I grab its back legs and lift. It lets go. Earl kicks, and it lunges for him. Claws scrabble at the roof. I toss it down to the pack.
..... I tie off his bad leg with my belt.
..... "You'll have to carry me, son," Earl says.
..... I hold him awhile, listen to the dogs howl. He mumbles a while, then stops breathing.

*********************

..... I opened the door with Milton's keys real quiet. Alice is watching TV, eating ice cream. Didn't know we had ice cream.
..... I turned the hammer over in my hands. Bring the flat end down hard a few times. Until she stopped twitching. I pulled her afghan blanket over her head.
..... "Why you wake us up, Denny?" Randy rubbed his eyes.
..... Kaycee hugged my leg. I bent down, she kissed my cheek.
..... "We're having ice cream."
..... Went back to juvie 'til I was 18, after they figured Alice probably didn't fall down the apartment stairs the same night Milton got torn up. I let her tumble, and Mrs. Forrest from downstairs opened her door.
..... "She fell," I'd said. Mrs. Forrest saw my eye and called the police.

*********************

..... I never had a dog as a kid. But I could have Remy now. I could take care of her for Earl, if I could make it through the pack. Maybe if I had Remy when I was little, she would've protected Momma and me. I close my eyes, think about her nosing into my shirt like she had at lunchtime.
..... And I slide down the hood, put my boots among the pack.
..... They sniff and snarl. Tug my laces. Bark a lot. I see fear in their eyes. They see none in mine. They're the bait dogs. The fighters must be locked up. Otherwise they'd fight.
..... Two big squat pit bulls part the pack, sniff my knees. I keep my hands low, eyes up. The other dogs bark. These two are quiet. The biggest, a black and white one striped with scars, huffs at me, then walks away.
..... The rest follow. A few linger, whimpering like Remy had. Then I hear someone bang on a garbage can, and the pack lopes toward the office.
..... I watch the do-rag man bang a 55 gallon drum with his shotgun until all the bait dogs are in their cage. He dumps food, then shuts the gate. He sweeps back and forth with a flashlight, and walks past my hiding spot.
..... "Heard you screaming," he hollers out. "You want help?"
..... I land behind him, drop my elbows on his shoulders. He gets my full three-fifty, crumples. I snug an arm round his throat and squeeze. He fires over my head. My ears ring. I snap his trigger finger back, twist and tug it like a ten penny nail that won't come loose. He stomps my steel toe boots, elbows me, then goes slack.
..... I whisper in his ear. "I done this before. You ain't dead 'til you shit yourself."
..... He struggles, thrashes. After he slumps and wets himself, I twist his head around twice. Push him away, so I don't get his mess on me.
..... I take the shotgun.
..... I pass the fight dog cages as I get to the office. See them all chewed up. One's got no nose. Another got no ears, no tail, looks like candle wax. One got three legs. They sniff at the cage and whimper. I wanna set them free, but I got work to do.
..... Jello's looking out the back window, holding a pistol in one hand. Got Remy in the crook of the other arm. I lower the shotgun and wait.
..... I put the barrel through the cage of the waxy white dog. Got one eye, too. But I can't pull the trigger.
..... I fire into the air, stay in the dark and close in.
..... Fire again. Then wait. Soon enough, he comes out.
..... The junkman's belly looks like Jello as he fast-walks, calling, "Terrell?"
..... When he's close, I put one in his belly.
..... He moans, falls flat. Next, I blow his gun hand off.
..... Dogs are going wild. I wipe down the gun with my shirt, toss it. Jello's saying stuff as I drag him by the boot to the bait dog cage. His guts trail behind us in the dirt like spaghetti. I kick the gate open.
..... Inside, I pick up Remy, stroke her soft white fur. She whimpers, licks my face. We watch the dogs play tug of war with the junkman's insides, until the screaming stops.
..... She'll be a good dog.