Billie always liked him, she’d probably ask him in for a drink, tell him where the Jolt is. Standing under a light across the street from Billie’s apartment, he cradled his crippled hand in the other and twisted from side to side in rhythm. Now why’s Grizz want to do away with the Jolt? Django frowned at the thought, shook his head. What’d McGuire do, piss off Grizz so bad? Nothin’, that’s what. Ain’t Grizz that’s pissed, it’s somebody else, somebody Grizz owes, tells Grizz, “You do the man, hear?” and Grizz’ll do it, see that it’s done. That’s the way Grizz works. That’s the way Grizz’ll act if Django says he can’t, says he won’t finger the Jolt. Grizz’ll demolish me. . . . And then there she was, coming out of the front door of the apartment building looking good, dressed like she’s got somewhere to go, some place special, maybe out to meet the Jolt . . . And then there’s some white dude behind her and he’s talking to her now, a hand pressed against her back.
