“Can’t say, Mr. Starrell. You want them to wrap this up for you? Maybe for your uncle?”

“You know what he says. He calls it white-on-white violence. That’s fuckin’ funny. Why should I fuckin’ care he got popped?”

“You don’t have to care. No one has to care.”

Starrell remained in an about-to-stand position.

“Go on,” Dunne said. “Don’t give a damn. Go clear the shit out of the pipes. This is honest work”—Dunne wondered to himself as he said this—“and if your head is too hard or your heart is too scared to do it and pocket a week’s pay in a day, then get going. This only works if I can trust you.”

Starrell leaned forward.

“And if I trust you,” he said.

“That’s right. Two hundred up front, the rest at the end of the run. Deal?”

“But, you know, I’m just doin’ this for my unc. Don’t want nobody running out on him. And it’s three at the start.”

“Two-fifty,” Dunne said. He put out his hand. Starrell traced his fingers against Dunne’s.

“This shit taste any better if you put that on it?” Starrell pointed at the hot chili.

“Yes, but go light. And we’ve got to do something about your clothes.”

“Fuck that,” Starrell said. He scooped up a large spoonful of the chilies and dumped it on his noodles. He took a bite and winced. Starrell said nothing. He looked Dunne in the eye, chewed, and swallowed.

24 - New Orleans June 27

24

New Orleans June 27

Addis and Rudd were halfway through New Orleans International when a black women rushed toward them. She was carrying a sign that read “Stop the Killing.” Behind her were a dozen other black women; several were holding on to small children. She had recognized Addis.

“You have to tell the President, that new President Mumfries, what’s going on down here,” she shouted in Addis’s face.

“Please do something,” urged another. “Our babies are dying. Our people are being killed.” Others surrounded Addis.

Rudd stepped to the side. She picked up a leaflet the women were distributing. The literature cited New Orleans as the city with the most murders per capita. It noted that the local police force was underfunded, corrupt, and inefficient—the worst in the nation. It asked all tourists visiting New Orleans to express their concern about public safety in the city.

An airport security guard pushed the women away from Addis. But Addis dismissed the guard, and he calmed the group. He asked them to explain what they were doing. He listened intently. He promised he would bring their leaflet back to the White House.

“Bless you in Jesus’ name,” said a woman wearing a red hat. She engulfed Addis in a hug.

He wished them well. Then he and Rudd proceeded to the rental car counter. “Think you can help them?” Rudd asked.

“No,” he answered.