I scoop up Bud from the seat and put him on my lap.
– I’m the bad guy here. I’m the fucking bad guy. Get me the fuck out of here.
– I’ll give it to you,Hank, that is one cool cat.An’ you? Well, shit.
I’m down on the floorboards in theback, Bud curled up on my stomach. Ed is up on the seat. He talks to me without looking at me. He doesn’t want the cops at the roadblock to know there’s anyone besides two black guys in the car. Both he and Paris have removed their sunglasses and cowboy hats. In this car, they look like a record producer and his driver/bodyguard. Paris has switched tapes and we’re listening to
– Hey, Ed?
– Yeah?
– Aren’t you guys kind of wanted yourselves?
– Sure.
– So?
– See, Hank, all these cats are thinking about is you. I mean, your ass was just in a gunfight a few blocks from here. So they’re on the lookout for a skinny white dude, not a couple of black hard-asses wanted forrobbin ’ banks in the Midwest. Follow?
– Sure. But this car is kind of distinct.
– You think we robbed in this baby?No way, man. This thing has been in storage in Jersey awaiting our return. We used a wholeshitload a cars to do our jobs. This honey is clean.
– Yeah, but.
– Shut the fuck up. It’s our turn.
They’ve got the traffic blocked up at Union Square. Anything heading south is being diverted. Anything going north, west or east that might have come from the vicinity of Astor is being checked out. Paris pulls us forward and stops. The beam from a flashlight dances over the interior. Ed turns his head and nods. We pull forward. Ed glances down at me and winks.
– First timebein ’ black kept me fromgettin ’ hassled by the cops.
We drive west. From thefootwell I look up through the windows and the buildings swerve by overhead as Paris turns left on Seventh Avenue, taking us downtown toward the Holland Tunnel. We drive. Ed reaches forward and taps his brother on the shoulder.
– Here.
From my angle, I can just see the back of Paris ’s head as he nods. He pulls the car over and stops. Through the window behind Ed I can see part of a tenement and an old warehouse. I think we’re somewhere below Houston, inTribeca. I start to pull myself up onto the seat, but Ed puts his hand on my chest and gently pushes me back.
– Just stay there for now.
I settle back into my spot. My wound is throbbing.Throbbing. It feels like someone is stabbing me in the side. My feet hurt.
Funkadelicswings into “Maggot Brain,” their endless guitar solo from hell. Ed picks his hat up from the seat and holds it in his lap, fiddling with the shape of the brim.
– I’ll tell you, Hank.Me and Paris are torn.
– How’s that?
Paris swivels around in his seat so he can look down and see me. It’s the first time I’ve seen his eyes. They look anxious.
– Well, what you did back there, that’s some pretty wicked shit.Very impressive.
– But?
Ed rubs the top of his head.
– Truth is,the smart play for us would be to just bump you and dump you.
Bud purrs, sleeping on my stomach, rising and falling with my breath. I scratch him behind the ears with my left hand.
– See, the heat on you is gonna be pretty fucking intense. Combine that with the heat on us and things could get sultry.
– Yeah?
– So, another option, we could just drop you off and let you do for yourself. Give you some scratch and shake hands.
– Fair enough.
– Sure, that’s fair enough, but is it the right play?The smart play? Follow?
– Sure, I follow.
I scratch Bud with my left hand. My right hand is tucked under his belly.
Ed looks at his brother and Paris nods.
– Thing is, people out of the life, they always talk about “honor among thieves.” But it ain’t really like that. See, honor ain’t much of an issue, but trust is. Trust is definitely an issue. Now, all this that just happened, this whole mess, it went down because of misplaced trust. Now, we never trusted Roman or his cronies, an’ least of all the fucking Russians.But Russ?Known him since we were kids. You bet we trusted him. When he went south on us? Well, color us shocked. But more than that, color us hurt.Deeply. Something like that happens an’ a man is likely to question things, things he thinks he can believe in. Questionhis own judgment. That’s bad. Lose trust in yourself, that’s the final blow. You follow?
– Sure.
I scratch Bud some more. I want to keep him mellow. I want to keep him mellow because I don’t want him to jump up. Because then Ed and Paris would see the gun tucked in my waistband. The gun my right hand is resting on.
– What I told you before, about having no past, no connections. No family. That’s all well and good, as far as it goes. But the truth is that it only goes so far. Me an’ Paris, we beat the odds more than our fair share. Know why?
– No.
– Because we are greater than the sum of our parts. That greatness comes out of three things: faith, love and trust.
He offers his hand to Paris.
– I love you, brother.
Paris takes the hand.
– I love you, Ed.
They unclasp hands and look at me.
– Roman, Bolo, Russ? Truth is,you didn’t kill those guys. They killed themselves.Them, the Russians, the Chink? They’d be alive an’ have the money, if only they could have trusted each other. Trust is a feeling, Hank. It’s something you feel for another person, like love or hate. It comes about because you see what a man does, who he is. A man does what he says he’s gonna do, values his friends, his family, an’ tries to do right by them? You can’t help but trust a man like that. You can’t help but feel trust for that man.A man like you.
He quits playing with his hat and puts it on.
– So your call. We can dump you here with a couple hundred grand for a job welldone, you can make a run, try to start over someplace. Take your chances with the Russians that way,cuz they’ll belookin ’ for all of us. Maybe you can go to the cops, try to spell it all out, take your chances with the truth. Get to see your mom an’ dad again that way. Or, come with us. Have a new life.A new family. Be trusted. An’ I think that maybe, that’s what might be best for you.Cuz the truth is, Hank, whoever you were a week ago, you’re not him anymore.
Really, it’s not as hard a choice to make as you might think. Because after all, he’s right, I’m not the man I was a week ago. I’m not half that man. I stop scratching Bud and uncurl the fingers of my right hand from around the pistol.
– I’m in.
They smile.Beautiful smiles, just beautiful. Ed reaches down and pats me on the knee.
