talks, but mostly he's quiet.
Just to be saying something, because usually he likes quiet, but this is a kind he doesn't, Jimmy says, I heard they're putting up a subdivision over on Fitzgerald, too, soon. Condos, that's what I heard.
Tom nods, like he knows Jimmy's right, but Jack says, Bullshit. He says, I'm tired of people hearing shit, it's all bullshit. Markie looks real quick at Jack, and then away, but Jack is watching Markie. People hear shit, says Jack. People tell other people. Fucks everyone up, it's all a pile of crap.
Tom says, Fuck, Jack, why don't you yell a little more, I don't think you woke up those people across the street yet.
Jimmy peers into the dark. A faraway streetlight shows where across the street is, where the finished houses are, with people in them. Not so easy to wake those people up from here, he thinks, we might as well be off in the woods. But he doesn't say it, because it would be okay with him if Jack stopped yelling.
Listen, you guys, says Tom. It's too hot out here, let's go get a nightcap at the Bird before last call.
He stands and brushes off his jeans. Jimmy puts his beer can down, but Markie and Jack aren't moving.
People hear shit, Jack says, it's because someone else told them.
Tom says, What the hell's your problem tonight?
Tom's glaring down at Jack.
My problem? And now Jack jumps up, too, faster than Jimmy thought he could, as much as he had to drink. My
Jack laughs, but not like something's funny, says, What the fuck, Markie? You think you can scare me because of some made-up crap? You think that?
It's what I heard, Markie says, spreading his hands, and at the same time Tom says, What are you talking about?
You cocksucker, says Jack, I swear to God, Markie, you piss me off, who told you to feed me that bullshit?
Markie starts, No one told me.
But he can't finish because Jack's yelling: Fuck, Markie, fuck! Who're you working for?
Working for? Markie repeats the words like he's amazed Jack said them, like when they were kids and Jack said something so dirty the rest of them wouldn't dare even try it; except Markie, Markie always used to try. He says, Hey, Jack.
Jack says, You want to know what bullshit?
Jack's glaring at Tom, swaying a little to keep his balance. Like he's on a ship, thinks Jimmy. Or like the wind's blowing only where he is.
You want to know what bullshit? Okay, says Jack, I'll tell you. This asshole—he points at Markie—he's been telling me the cops have all this bullshit. Operation Jack or some damn shit, files on me and evidence up their buttholes and if I don't lay off they'll throw me in the fucking can. That's what bullshit.
Tom looks at Markie.
Markie says, It's what I heard.
Where? says Tom, like he doesn't quite get something.
Just, says Markie, just around.
Balls, spits Jack.
Just around? Tom asks Markie. You just heard this?
Markie nods.
Guys? Jimmy says. I heard it, too.
Jack goes wild.
Oh, fuck! Oh, shut the fuck up, Superman! Who the hell's gonna tell shit like this to you? To either of you? Squeaky clean motherfuckers like you? This shit was true, you'd be the last guys in hell to hear it.
But here's the punch line, Jack says, with his hands opening and closing. He takes a step closer to Markie. Markie's looking up. Jack's between him and the moon. The joke about this bullshit, says Jack, it's crap. It's lies. It's not fucking true.
Tom steps up, too, so he won't be behind Jack. He says, How do you know?
Fuck you, little brother. You think you're the only Molloy with cops in his pocket?
Jack's growling now, like a dog warning you to back off. Like King, when they were all kids. When the dog was trapped and couldn't get away.
Tom tries: Jack—
I pay good money to find out shit like this! Jack yells. Markie tells me this shit, I ask my guys, What about it? They say it's news to them. They check around, come back, and say it's bullshit from ass to tits. So what I want to know, Markie, what I fucking want to know is
I—
