taken care to place the head faceup to greet the cops.
“They told me down the station I’d find you here.”
“Yeah? Who told you that?”
“Some cop, whoever picked up the phone.”
“I’ll have to talk with them about that.”
“Whattaya gonna, ‘I’ll have to talk with them’? You know, this is what I hear about you, over and over again, same fuckin’ thing: You’re some tough prick, nobody wants to deal with you. You know that? Pain in the ass. You go looking for trouble.”
“You heard wrong. I don’t look for trouble.”
“No? Trouble finds you, then.”
“Seems like that.”
“Yeah, seems like that.” Gargano pushed open each bathroom door and poked his head in to confirm it was empty. “So what are we gonna do?”
“About what?”
“About what. Funny guy, ‘about what.’ Listen, shit-for-brains, I know what kind of trouble you’re in. Maybe you can fool a bunch of dumb-fuck cops and these broads you run around with, and maybe you can fool that dumb-fuck brother of yours, the thief/burglar/ whatever-the-fuck-he-is. But you don’t fool me. You don’t fool me. I seen guys like you. I see guys like you every fuckin’ day. You don’t fool me.”
“I’m not trying to fool you.”
Gargano paused, mollified by the note of servility in Joe’s answer.
“I’m not trying to fool nobody,” Joe said, modulating his position. A little wince showed on his face: all balls, no brains, and he knew it.
Gargano ignored it. “What are we gonna do, Joe?”
No answer.
“This is a problem. You got a big tab here, Joe, big tab.” He wagged his finger. “It’s not good. This is a real problem. We got a real fuckin’ problem, you and me.”
“I’ve been paying.”
“No, Joe. See, if you were paying and doing the right thing, see, I wouldn’t be here, would I? I wouldn’t even know your name. You’d be just some dumb cop.”
Gargano moved toward the middle of the room and settled into a seat. “When are you gonna get this money, Joe?”
“Soon.”
“No. I said when. You tell me exactly when you’re gonna get it. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, what?”
No answer.
“I’m guessing you don’t have the money.”
“Not right now.”
“Not right now.”
“Not right now.”
“So what are you giving me this bullshit about ‘soon’?”
“I could get some of it.”
“Some of it?”
“Yeah.”
“How much?”
“I don’t, I don’t exactly-”
“ How much? How fuckin’ much, Joe?”
“I don’t know. Couple thousand.”
“A couple thousand? Is that a joke? You think this is some kind of fuckin’ joke, you make fuckin’ jokes with me? Are you being funny? Tell him a couple thousand and that’s the end of it, like this is some joke. Is that it? You think this is a joke?”
“No.”
“No what?”
“No, it’s not a joke.”
“Fuckin’ right it’s not a joke. You know, I heard you weren’t the sharpest fuckin’ guy.” He shook his head. “So what are we gonna do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where are you gonna get this kind of money?”
“I don’t know.”
“‘I don’t know, I don’t know.’ You don’t know much.” Gargano had gradually moved to the edge of his chair, leaning far forward with his hands on his knees, and now he slouched back. “I ain’t leavin’ here till I know where you’re gonna get this money.”
No response.
“How about your brother the thief?”
“Let’s leave him out of it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s my problem, I’ll fix it.”
“He’s got money.”
“Not this kind of money.”
“You hear about that Copley job? He’s got plenty of money, that one.”
Joe was not sure what Ricky was calling himself these days-a car dealer or a realtor or a club owner-but he knew it was not wise to reveal anything to a guy like Vinnie Gargano. Joe didn’t know what he didn’t know, sometimes he didn’t know what he did know, and so when it came to Ricky he made it a policy to know nothing at all. Saying too much could get Ricky killed. “My brother doesn’t have that kind of money and he isn’t a thief.”
Gargano grinned. “Jesus, you really are dumber than a box of rocks.”
Joe shrugged. He felt at once defeated and oddly relieved. Gargano’s appearance here felt like a culmination-as if Vinnie The Animal had come into that bus station bodying forth all the bad luck and all the defeats Joe had been enduring, and now at last it might all come to an end somehow. Probably badly, it was true, but any sort of end would be better than this slow slide. Gargano was right, after all: Joe had passed the point where he could hope to pay off the debt. From here the vig would bury him, fast. He had no way to stop the clock, and so time itself had become a burden, the passing of an hour was a reason to suffer. He wanted it to stop.
“So how are you gonna get this money? You got a nice house. I seen it.”
“It’s mortgaged.”
“So sell something. What do you got to sell?”
“ Pfft. Nothing.”
“You know what I usually say in this situation? I tell the guy, ‘Look, you owe ten grand, fifty grand, whatever it is. You only got one thing that’s worth fifty grand. I’ll buy it from you. You know what it is?’” He paused.
“No,” Joe said. “What is it?”
“It’s your head. I tell him, ‘Sell me your fuckin’ head for fifty grand and we’ll call it even. I’ll take it right now. You want, I’ll even cut it off for you.’ Then I show him the knife.” He reached inside his leather coat and produced a small knife.
“What if the guy really doesn’t have fifty grand?”
“They tend to find it.”
Joe’s eyes closed.
“Relax. Your fuckin’ head isn’t worth fifty cents. Let me tell you what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna come work for me.”
“That won’t-I can’t do that.”
“Please. I seen Nicky Capobianco’s police pad.” Nicky Capobianco was Charlie’s brother, fixer, and money man. “The morning after the prom is a little late to be calling yourself a virgin. You’ve been taking the money. Now you can earn it.”
“Earn it how?”
