'It wasn't like I was just breaking up with her,' I said, taking another pull on my drink. 'I thought I was doing the right thing, being noble.'
'Nobility isn't about telling someone what you think is right for them. It's doing the right thing, period.
Girls's a grown woman, she can make her own deci sions. What you did was selfish, and it was to alleviate your own guilt over what happened to her and Mya. You felt like if you broke things off, you could feel as if you were protecting them. Just not so. I don't claim to be
Mr. Perfect Relationship, but there's give-and-take.
You're with someone, you're their partner. It was selfish, bro, own up to it.'
'Maybe you're right,' I said. 'And trust me, I know
I screwed up. And I'm atoning for it.'
'How?'
'For starters, I cook every Friday night.'
'You a good cook?'
'If by 'good' you mean she's able to swallow one forkful without gagging, then yeah, I'm a good cook.'
Curt sipped his drink, then shifted his weight, a small grimace spreading over his face. It was a brief reaction and certainly unintentional, but for some reason it made my stomach feel hollow.
'Can I ask you something?' I said.
''Course, man. You sound serious all of a sudden, you got a month to live or something?' he said, laughing.
I smiled, drank. 'You ever feel like I do more harm than good? As a person?'
Curt looked at me. He could tell I was serious. 'Not quite sure why you say that,' he said. 'But it feels to me like you might be having a little pity party.'
'It's not that,' I said. 'I'm over all that. I just feel like over the last few years…I mean, look at it. Mya.
Amanda. You. My dad. Just feels like all these people
I'm supposed to be close to get hurt. Not to mention this guy who got killed the other day.'
'What guy?' Curt asked.
I filled him in on the details of Hector Guardado and the briefcase. He sat there, focused, listening intently.
He nodded when I brought up Detective Makhoulian, said he'd met the guy once or twice and that he seemed like he was on the up-and-up.
Often it took a good cop to recognize a good cop, so it was reassuring to hear Curt say that.
Though my first few months in the city I'd been dis trustful of cops-and who could blame me since two of them tried to kill me for erroneous reasons-recently
I'd begun to settle back in, believing that guys like Mak houlian were truly here to serve and protect. Just because most of them didn't like me didn't mean I didn't have respect for them.
'And you think this guy Guardado is somehow tied in to your brother's death?' he said.
'Probably not directly, but I caught Guardado coming out of a building where I saw a bunch of other drug couriers signing in to a company called 718 Enter prises. I couldn't find much on them, but I'm pretty sure
'Selling drugs,' Curt said.
'That's right.'
'And what's the name of that company you men tioned? 718?'
'718 Enterprises,' I repeated.
Curt scratched his nose, downed the rest of his beer. 'Not sure why, but for some reason that name sounds familiar.'
'That means it's likely not a good thing,' I said.
Curt shook his head, thinking. 'Give me some time tonight, I'm going to go back and dig into some of the files, ask around.'
'Curt, you don't have to do that, I-'
'Don't even start. I need to get some action, so don't look at this as a favor from me to you, but an excuse for me to get back on the horse.'
'Then giddyup, cowboy,' I said.
'You know damn well there were no black cowboys, and no, I don't count Mel Brooks movies.'
'Actually I think there were,' I said. 'I know a little about the Old West.'
'You being cute with me?' Curt said.
He stood up. We'd finished just one beer, but I could tell he was motivated. And since his motivation might answer a few questions, who was I to stop him?
'Keep your cell on, I'll give you a call tonight,' he said. We shook hands and gave an awkward fist-bump man hug that I always felt silly doing but practiced nonetheless.
We both left the club, Curt hailing a taxi while I headed toward the subway. I hadn't known Curt to spend money on cabs too often, he preferred to walk or use public transportation. That he was willing to spring for a cab meant his leg was bothering him enough to forgo the walk to the bus stop.
I arrived home a little past nine. Amanda greeted me with a hug and a kiss and a plate of cold spaghetti. She was wearing an oversize gray sweatshirt and a pair of light blue boxer shorts, and looked absolutely adorable.
Even the rumples of the sweatshirt couldn't hide the body beneath, and I made sure to squeeze her extra tight during our hug.
Changing into shorts and a T-shirt, I sat down at the table and dug into the food. She'd sprinkled a light sheet of parmesan over the tomato sauce.
'I can warm that up for you,' she said.
'It's actually good like this,' I said. 'I ran some track back in high school and always ate cold pasta before meets. It always tastes better cold than reheated.'
I proved this by shoveling another forkful in my mouth and grinning.
As I finished the meal, I couldn't help but think about how just yesterday a briefcase full of drugs had occupied the tabletop. Now the owner was dead, and it frightened me to think that whoever Hector Guardado was working for, his life was expendable compared to the contents of the briefcase.
And I wondered, again, why my brother's name was in a dead drug dealer's cell phone. And why Hector
Guardado had called him once and only once, the night
Stephen was murdered.
And as I sat there chewing and thinking, my cell phone rang.
Rummaging through the pile of laundry on the floor, I pulled the phone from my pocket, clicked Send. I rec ognized the prefix as coming from Curt's precinct.
'This is Henry,' I said.
'It's Curt.'
'You find anything?' I said, beginning to feel that familiar rush of apprehension and excitement. Then I remembered what I'd told Wallace, promising that my mind was still with the paper. I had to think about all this information both as a son and a reporter.
'You could say that. Now I know why the name 718
Enterprises sounded familiar. You sitting down?' he said.
'Yes,' I lied.
'Your boys Gaines and Guardado, they're not the only ones.'
'What do you mean?'
'Five bodies, Henry. Christ, what have you gotten into.'
I stood there, listened, feeling dread pour through me.
Curt continued, saying, 'Five young men murdered, the coroner's reports all suggesting the use of a silenced pistol. All gunshots from close range, all executionstyle. Assumed that the victims knew their killers. So if that's true, these guys were all killed just like Stephen
Gaines. Which means all five people were somehow connected to this 718 Enterprises. And all of them killed in the past three months. It's not just Gaines and
Guardado, man. Somebody is systematically taking out everyone who works for that organization.'
