clowns turned up with a gun, and in an eye blink they confirmed the conclusion I'd already drawn. If they were part of the package, then you couldn't possibly write off what happened across the river to coincidence and bad luck. You've got an enemy, and that's why Kenny and McCartney wound up dead."
"Ah, I think I knew as much all along," he said. "But I wanted to be certain."
"Well, it got certain for me the minute they showed up to warn me off. I was already off. That's what I said to them, and the hell of it is I think they believed me."
"But the fucker hit you all the same."
"He was apologetic about it," I said, "but that didn't make him pull the punch. So it didn't feel much like an apology."
"And you stood and took it."
"I didn't have a lot of choice. But one punch was as much as I wanted to take."
"And so you showed them what you could do. Jesus, I wish I'd been there to see it."
"I wish you'd been there to give me a hand," I said. "I'm too old for this shit."
"How's your stomach, man?"
"Not as bad as it'd be if I'd let him hit me again. You know, I was damn lucky. If I don't come down just right on his foot, he doesn't let go. And then all I've done is irritate them, and then where am I?" I shrugged. "On balance it was probably a mistake to fight back. He had a gun, for Christ's sake. And I knew they were killers, or at least working for killers. Hell, I saw what happened to Kenny and McCartney."
"You helped to bury them."
"So if I make these two angry I'm only going to get more of a beating, and they might use a gun instead of a fist, and they might even get carried away and shoot me. But I didn't have time to think it through. All I could do was react. And, as I said, I got lucky."
"I'd have paid to see it."
"You wouldn't want to pay too much. It was over in less time than it took me to tell about it. The adrenaline gives you a rush, I'll say that. When I was standing there watching one of them hurrying away on his bad foot while the other rolled around hugging his liver, I felt like Superman's big brother."
"You had the right."
"And I thought, well, the hell with you assholes. I was off the case, I was done with it, but fuck the two of you, and I'm back on it." I took a breath. "But I realized that wasn't so about the time the adrenaline wore off. What happened didn't change anything."
"No."
"I walked half a block and had to hang on to a lamppost while I threw up. I haven't puked on the street since I stopped drinking, and that's a few years now."
"Beyond the sore stomach," he said, "how do you feel now?"
"I'm all right."
"I'd say you could do with a drink, but you wouldn't take one, would you?"
"Not tonight."
"And doesn't your crowd ever recognize special circumstances? What manner of man would begrudge you a drink on a night like this?"
"It doesn't matter what anybody else would do," I said. "I'm the only man who can give me permission."
"And you won't."
"Suppose I decided it was all right to drink when I got punched in the stomach. What do you think would happen?"
He grinned. "You'd soon have a sore midsection."
"I would, because I'd make sure I got hit a lot. Mick, a drink wouldn't help me any. All it would do me is harm."
"Ah, I know that."
"And I don't really want one, anyway. All I want is to give you some of your money back, and then to go home and get in a hot tub."
"The last's a good idea. The heat will draw the pain and make the morning easier. But I'll not take money from you."
"I had to rent a car," I said, "and I put in an afternoon's work, and TJ spent a few hours riding the phone and the computer. I figure I earned about half of the thousand you gave me."
"You took a beating," he said, "and risked a bullet. For the love of God, man, keep the fucking money."
"I'd have argued with him," I told Elaine, "but I'd fought enough for one night. So I kept the money and treated myself to a cab home. I felt silly, riding that short a distance on a nice night like this, but I
"Ah, I think I knew as much all along," he said. "But I wanted to be certain."
"Well, it got certain for me the minute they showed up to warn me off. I was already off. That's what I said to them, and the hell of it is I think they believed me."
"But the fucker hit you all the same."
"He was apologetic about it," I said, "but that didn't make him pull the punch. So it didn't feel much like an apology."
"And you stood and took it."
"I didn't have a lot of choice. But one punch was as much as I wanted to take."
"And so you showed them what you could do. Jesus, I wish I'd been there to see it."
"I wish you'd been there to give me a hand," I said. "I'm too old for this shit."
"How's your stomach, man?"
"Not as bad as it'd be if I'd let him hit me again. You know, I was damn lucky. If I don't come down just right on his foot, he doesn't let go. And then all I've done is irritate them, and then where am I?" I shrugged. "On balance it was probably a mistake to fight back. He had a gun, for Christ's sake. And I knew they were killers, or at least working for killers. Hell, I saw what happened to Kenny and McCartney."
"You helped to bury them."
"So if I make these two angry I'm only going to get more of a beating, and they might use a gun instead of a fist, and they might even get carried away and shoot me. But I didn't have time to think it through. All I could do was react. And, as I said, I got lucky."
"I'd have paid to see it."
"You wouldn't want to pay too much. It was over in less time than it took me to tell about it. The adrenaline gives you a rush, I'll say that. When I was standing there watching one of them hurrying away on his bad foot while the other rolled around hugging his liver, I felt like Superman's big brother."
"You had the right."
"And I thought, well, the hell with you assholes. I was off the case, I was done with it, but fuck the two of you, and I'm back on it." I took a breath. "But I realized that wasn't so about the time the adrenaline wore off. What happened didn't change anything."
"No."
"I walked half a block and had to hang on to a lamppost while I threw up. I haven't puked on the street since I stopped drinking, and that's a few years now."
"Beyond the sore stomach," he said, "how do you feel now?"
"I'm all right."
"I'd say you could do with a drink, but you wouldn't take one, would you?"
"Not tonight."
"And doesn't your crowd ever recognize special circumstances? What manner of man would begrudge you a drink on a night like this?"
"It doesn't matter what anybody else would do," I said. "I'm the only man who can give me permission."
"And you won't."
"Suppose I decided it was all right to drink when I got punched in the stomach. What do you think would happen?"
He grinned. "You'd soon have a sore midsection."
"I would, because I'd make sure I got hit a lot. Mick, a drink wouldn't help me any. All it would do me is harm."
"Ah, I know that."
"And I don't really want one, anyway. All I want is to give you some of your money back, and then to go home and get in a hot tub."
"The last's a good idea. The heat will draw the pain and make the morning easier. But I'll not take money from you."
"I had to rent a car," I said, "and I put in an afternoon's work, and TJ spent a few hours riding the phone and the computer. I figure I earned about half of the thousand you gave me."
"You took a beating," he said, "and risked a bullet. For the love of God, man, keep the fucking money."
"I'd have argued with him," I told Elaine, "but I'd fought enough for one night. So I kept the money and treated myself to a cab home. I felt silly, riding that short a distance on a nice night like this, but I
Similar Books
