The boy went down the steps, between me and Leonard and out into the street. Mohawk dropped the needle onto the porch. There were a couple other needles there, along with the rubber hose.

The other black guy was wearing a light blue shower cap an orange T-shirt and jeans, and was about the size of a Rose Parade float. He looked down from the porch at us like it tired him out. He said to Leonard, “Shit, if you ain’t the fucking bird of paradise.”

“And propped on a stick,” said Mohawk. “Who dresses you, brother? And you, white boy. You preachin’ somewhere?”

“I’m selling insurance,” I said. “You want some? Got a feeling you might need a little, come a few minutes.”

Mohawk smiled at me like I was one funny guy.

“What are you doing here?” Leonard asked.

“We’re standing on the motherfucking porch,” Parade Float said. “Whatchoo doin’ here?”

“I own the place.”

“Ah,” said Mohawk. “You must be that nutty Uncle Tom’s boy?”

“I’m Chester Pine’s nephew, that’s what you mean.”

“Well, hey, we was just doing a little business,” said Mohawk. “Don’t let your balls swell up.”

“This ain’t your office,” Leonard said.

Mohawk smiled. “You know, you’re right, but we was thinking of making it kind of an extension.” He came out to the edge of the porch and pointed next door. “We live over there. That’s our main office, Captain Sunshine.”

I looked. It was a large run-down house on the lot next to Chester’s place. A number of young black men came out on the long porch, stood and stared.

“That wasn’t any measles vaccination you gave that kid,” Leonard said. “How old was he? Twelve?”

“Don’t know,” said Parade Float. “We don’t send him no birthday presents. Shit, all you know, we’re free-lance doctors.”