Lush Life: A Novel
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
A National Bestseller
A New York Times Notable Book of the Year
Lush Life is a tale of two Lower East Sides: one a high-priced bohemia, the other a home to hardship, it's residents pushed to the edges of their time-honored turf. When a cocky young hipster is shot to death by a street kid from the "other" lower east side, the crime ripples through every stratum of the city in this brilliant and kaleidiscopic portrait of the "new" New York.
carefully. “I mean, this motherfucking . . .” Billy abruptly stalked off a few feet and began muttering, his balled fists like bloodless clubs. At first Beck strained to pick up the specifics of the rant but quickly gave up. He knew what was happening: Matty Clark had sent this guy over as his media beard, no doubt, and now the poor bastard was torn between the carefully worded script he’d been spoon-fed and the explosive bile that kept bubbling to the surface. Well, he could either help
commitment and interest . . . and I just want to reassure you that we’re doing everything we can to bring this to a close so you can grieve for your son properly.” “Properly?” Billy getting a little head of steam off that. “Like I’m sitting here with you right now in order to fend off the grieving process?” Berkowitz quickly put his hands up. “I wouldn’t presume to know that.” “Because personally?” Billy finally turned to him. “I think I’m grieving great.” “All I’m trying to say, Mr.
from the one he came in with two hours earlier, closed the lieutenant’s office door behind him, Matty looked to Yolonda with impassive disappointment, then uncharacteristically put his own consoling hand on the bleary, fuck-faced witness. “All right, Eric, we appreciate your coming in. I know we didn’t exactly make it easy for you.” “That’s it?” “That’s a lot,” Yolonda said. “We can pick this up tomorrow.” “Maybe we should go back to the scene,” Eric said, “I’m OK to do it. Maybe it’ll shake
party in the Bronx and the streets were dead. • • • Matty was on the phone with a third-person verbal from the Pursue pile, an older black man who owned a candy store outside the Red Hook houses in Brooklyn claiming that he overheard a girl this morning commenting on the reward money and how badly she was tempted for her kids’ sake, but how it wasn’t worth it if you believed in what goes around comes around. “You know her?” “I know her voice,” the man said. “Can you describe her?” “It
“Minette,” Yolonda said, then without asking eased herself across the threshold and steered the woman to her own couch, Mullins following silently, his gaze straying to the prehistoric bluffs across the river. Lost in her own panic, the young girl did everyone a favor by marching out of the dining area. A moment later a door slammed. “Please,” Minette said, an open-ended entreaty. “Is his father home?” Yolonda asked, following the script. “He’s upstate.” Yolonda and John glanced at each