“You could try Utah.”
“Ah, I hear they got ’em out there, too.”
“What do you want, Boyle? You think she ought to have a poster of you up on her wall?”
“Look, I don’t expect you to relate.”
“You’re right; I can’t relate. But I do understand you, Boyle. I got you pegged for just about the most enlightened guy I know.”
Boyle smiled. “Good thing you and me have got an understanding, Nick. Nothing like spilled blood to hold a couple of guys like us together, right?”
Stefanos dragged on his cigarette, watched Boyle crush his dead in the ashtray. Boyle got up, drained his shot, upended his bottle, finished his beer. He dropped a five and some ones on the mahogany and walked out of the bar.
Mai, the Spot’s second-string tender, came in around four and ate her dinner at the bar. Mai was wide of hip, with round shoulders and a plain, kind face featuring rosy Raggedy Ann cheeks. At work she wore her blond hair pinned back in pretzels. She was a German with a green card and a weakness for marines. Conveniently, the barracks were right down the block.
“Where you off to tonight, Nicky?” said Mai. “Gonna see your girl?”
“What?” said Stefanos. “Do I ask you personal questions about Sergeant Slaughter?”
“His name’s Sergeant DeLaughter.”
“Go ahead and answer her,” said Anna Wang, sitting beside Mai with one of Stefanos’s Camels hanging from her pouty mouth. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. We’re practically like your sisters.”
“Does that mean we can take showers together?”
Mai laughed as Anna blew a smoke ring in his direction.
“How is she, Nick?” said Anna. “C’mon.”
“Alicia’s fine.”
“That’s all you’re gonna say?”
“She’s fine.”
Roberto Juarez, Maria’s husband, entered the Spot and stayed up on the landing. He was a humorless man with a thin mustache, hard forearms, and thick, heavily veined hands. It made Stefanos angry to look at Juarez’s hands.
Stefanos put his head in the reach-through. “Maria! Your husband’s out here!”
“I’ll be right there!”
“So long, senorita, ” said James Posten in a musical way.
James came out of the kitchen, fully dressed for the weather, swinging his walking stick by his side. James cooked round-trip on the D.C.-to-New York Metroliner three nights a week, and he was off to work.
“What’s this?” he said, making a gesture toward one of the house speakers.
“Beastie Boys,” said Stefanos. “ The In Sound from Way Out. ”
“That’s some beautiful shit,” said James. “I thought they only shouted.”
“They play on this one,” said Stefanos. “Say hello to the Big Apple for all us provincial types down here.”
“Closest I’ll get to that apple is beneath Penn Station. But I’ll make sure and soak up some of the vibe.”
He waved good-bye to Mai and Anna, and walked toward the front door. Juarez did not step aside to let him pass. As James went around him, Juarez smiled thinly and gave James a small air-kiss. James ignored him and left the Spot.
Maria emerged from the kitchen, a cheap nylon coat over her uniform. Her smile faded as she reached her husband. The two of them went quietly out the door.
“Phil said he wanted to talk to me,” said Darnell, stepping off the rubber mats and coming out into the bar area, his full apron wet from the sink. “You know what it’s about?”
“He’s gonna get you some help for lunch, I think,” said Stefanos.
“I told him I didn’t need no dishwasher.”
“It’s for the expediter’s position.”
“Oh. Y’all don’t think I can handle it, is that it?”
“We can all use help from time to time, Darnell.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I’ll listen to what the man has to say,” said Darnell. “He is the boss.”
Stefanos looked at Mai. “You about ready to jump in here?”
“Let me just finish the rest of this chicken. It’s really tender.”
“Nick’s gonna take some home with him tonight, on account of it’s so tender.” Anna grinned as she stubbed out her smoke. “Just in case he doesn’t hook up with Alicia.”
Stefanos left a little rubber on the street as he gave the Coronet 500 gas on the green.
From the shotgun bucket, Anna Wang side-glanced Stefanos. “Nick, don’t you think this car is a little noisy?”
“I put custom pipes on it. You know, dual exhaust. It runs more efficiently now, and it’s faster.”
“And noisier.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“Everybody at that stoplight did.”
“They were just checking out the boss lines on the car. You know what they used to call the shape of this model? ‘Coke bottle,’ on account of the way the metal cuts in on the rear quarter panels.”
“You remind me of why I never dated Chinese guys. Those dudes, all they want to talk about is their cars and the next car they’re going to buy. They’re all gearheads, like you.”
“I’m no gearhead.”
“Yes, you are.”
“You know, good thing you’re cute. You remind me of this really pretty four-barrel carb I saw the other day.”
“You think I’m cute?”
“Sure. If I wasn’t -”
“Fifteen years older than me?”
“I was gonna say ‘attached.’ ”
“You’re attached, all right. But thanks for the compliment, Nick.”
Stefanos pulled over on 7th Street, just south of the Mount Vernon Square Metro stop. Anna’s apartment building, a beat-to-shit white building with white columns and forest green doors, was across the street. A guy wearing an army jacket and socks without shoes stood outside the door, insulting people who were walking by. A young man a half block south was leaning into an open car window, selling crack in the middle of the day.
“Now, go straight inside,” said Stefanos.
“I thought I’d ask that guy up for a drink first.”
“There’s an idea. And then he could, I don’t know, hack you up into little pieces while he cries for his mommy?”
“Thanks for the ride, Nick.”
“My pleasure.”
Stefanos watched Anna cross the street, one hand gripping the strap of her backpack. She lived on the subway line, but he drove her home whenever he was able. Anna was his friend, and he couldn’t stand to think of anyone hurting her. It wasn’t just Anna; lately, he couldn’t stand to think of anyone getting hurt at all.
Lou Reed was singing “Perfect Day” from the juke as Nick Stefanos navigated the crowd at Rio Loco’s on U at 16th. He found Alicia Weisman at the bar and kissed her on her mouth.
“How’s it goin’, sweetheart?”
“It’s going good. How about for you?”
“Great, now.”
Stefanos smiled. She had small, light brown eyes, great blossoming laugh lines, and a crooked nose. Her lipstick always overshot her lips. Her hair was in some kind of irregular-length cut, and the color of it changed every few weeks. No one would ever mistake her for double-take pretty on the street, but she was pretty to Stefanos, and looking at her made him smile.
“Mind if I sit down?” said Stefanos.
