Also, he can’t be that well liked by his friends. They’ll get tired of looking for me.”
“That’s a pretty lame long-term plan,” Marissa said.
“Maybe. But that’s where Plan B comes in. Jim, do you think I could stay with you in New York?”
“Of course. God knows I’m paying enough to have the apartment sit empty.”
“How much?” Marissa asked.
“I don’t even want to think about how much.”
“Really, I could stay there?”
“Yeah. I can give you the keys right now, if you think you’re in real danger.”
I said it without pause, despite my apartment’s small size, despite Joe’s habits and despite the close quarters when I got back. I said it without pause because Joe was the nearest I’d ever had to a brother. I said it without pause because I felt pretty sure he wouldn’t take me up on it.
“I’m not sure yet. I want to get the temperature—ask around first. And New York is an expensive town. I want to get together a decent pile of money before I go. I think I can do that in a few weeks. I have an idea.”
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Let’s go get a drink and I’ll tell you about it,” Joe said.
11.
Joe had hidden his car, so I drove. We ended up at a place called Vincent’s. It sat among weed-tangled lots and half-abandoned warehouses behind the highway, behind the train station, behind downtown, behind the showcase the city was trying to make of Shrewsbury Street. Vincent’s felt hidden.
No one shouted out Joe’s name when he opened the door. Animal heads and stuffed birds peered from the darkness above the bar. A five-item menu was drawn on a blackboard by the bar. It all bespoke a pleasant surreptitiousness. We ordered drinks and found a table at the back, by the bathroom and the cigarette machine. Joe took the seat facing the door. It was Sunday night and the crowd was sparse and sedate.
After a few sips of whiskey, Joe described his plan to me. He would quit his job, cash out his pension, buy a lot of cocaine wholesale, cut it and sell it carefully, only to friends, then do the same one or two more times. That way, he would move into my apartment in style.
“Now I wouldn’t say anything. But you actually seem serious about this. So here goes. There are some holes in your plan,” I said. “In fact, it sounds like a terrible idea from start to finish.”
“Really? I think I’ve covered my bases here pretty well.”
“Well, for starters, you will be selling drugs. There are still laws against that.”
“But I’ll only be doing it for a little while, and only to friends. That limits the chances of me getting caught to almost nothing. I’ve known a lot of people who have done it. Some have gotten caught and some haven’t. It’s all about keeping a low profile.”
“But Joe, you’re one of the least low-profile people I’ve ever met. And assuming that Sully and his friends are coming for you—wouldn’t things be at their most dangerous now, when you’re still at the top of their priorities? Wouldn’t you be better off taking a vacation from work and getting out of town for a few weeks, and then coming back?”
“I can be careful for a little while. I can be low profile for a while, but not forever. I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder all the time. This thing with Sully could take a long time to sort out.”
Joe’s phone rang. He puzzled over the number, then opened it. His eyes and mouth opened into a defiant smile as the phone call progressed.
“Hey dickbird, go ahead and try it. I have a state trooper living next door and a shotgun under my bed. You will not come out of it looking too pretty, I promise you! So bring it on!” Joe yelled into his phone and clacked it shut. “That was Sully. He said he and his friends were going by my house now with a can of gasoline.”
“Jesus. Do you just want to skip town now? I could drive you down to New York if you need.”
“Nah. They’re just trying to scare me.”
“You sure you want
“That’s a pretty lame long-term plan,” Marissa said.
“Maybe. But that’s where Plan B comes in. Jim, do you think I could stay with you in New York?”
“Of course. God knows I’m paying enough to have the apartment sit empty.”
“How much?” Marissa asked.
“I don’t even want to think about how much.”
“Really, I could stay there?”
“Yeah. I can give you the keys right now, if you think you’re in real danger.”
I said it without pause, despite my apartment’s small size, despite Joe’s habits and despite the close quarters when I got back. I said it without pause because Joe was the nearest I’d ever had to a brother. I said it without pause because I felt pretty sure he wouldn’t take me up on it.
“I’m not sure yet. I want to get the temperature—ask around first. And New York is an expensive town. I want to get together a decent pile of money before I go. I think I can do that in a few weeks. I have an idea.”
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Let’s go get a drink and I’ll tell you about it,” Joe said.
11.
Joe had hidden his car, so I drove. We ended up at a place called Vincent’s. It sat among weed-tangled lots and half-abandoned warehouses behind the highway, behind the train station, behind downtown, behind the showcase the city was trying to make of Shrewsbury Street. Vincent’s felt hidden.
No one shouted out Joe’s name when he opened the door. Animal heads and stuffed birds peered from the darkness above the bar. A five-item menu was drawn on a blackboard by the bar. It all bespoke a pleasant surreptitiousness. We ordered drinks and found a table at the back, by the bathroom and the cigarette machine. Joe took the seat facing the door. It was Sunday night and the crowd was sparse and sedate.
After a few sips of whiskey, Joe described his plan to me. He would quit his job, cash out his pension, buy a lot of cocaine wholesale, cut it and sell it carefully, only to friends, then do the same one or two more times. That way, he would move into my apartment in style.
“Now I wouldn’t say anything. But you actually seem serious about this. So here goes. There are some holes in your plan,” I said. “In fact, it sounds like a terrible idea from start to finish.”
“Really? I think I’ve covered my bases here pretty well.”
“Well, for starters, you will be selling drugs. There are still laws against that.”
“But I’ll only be doing it for a little while, and only to friends. That limits the chances of me getting caught to almost nothing. I’ve known a lot of people who have done it. Some have gotten caught and some haven’t. It’s all about keeping a low profile.”
“But Joe, you’re one of the least low-profile people I’ve ever met. And assuming that Sully and his friends are coming for you—wouldn’t things be at their most dangerous now, when you’re still at the top of their priorities? Wouldn’t you be better off taking a vacation from work and getting out of town for a few weeks, and then coming back?”
“I can be careful for a little while. I can be low profile for a while, but not forever. I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder all the time. This thing with Sully could take a long time to sort out.”
Joe’s phone rang. He puzzled over the number, then opened it. His eyes and mouth opened into a defiant smile as the phone call progressed.
“Hey dickbird, go ahead and try it. I have a state trooper living next door and a shotgun under my bed. You will not come out of it looking too pretty, I promise you! So bring it on!” Joe yelled into his phone and clacked it shut. “That was Sully. He said he and his friends were going by my house now with a can of gasoline.”
“Jesus. Do you just want to skip town now? I could drive you down to New York if you need.”
“Nah. They’re just trying to scare me.”
“You sure you want
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