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Nick Stefanos has given up his job in sales to tend bar at the Spot, where drinks and women are both a bit too easily available, and the routine is starting to feel as dead-end as his last gig. But things are about to change. First, his high-school friend Billy Goodrich asks him to find his wife April, who he says left him for small-time crime boss Joey DiGeordano. In fact, April has taken off with hog farmer/bondage freak Tommy Crane and, it turns out, with $200,000 of DiGeordano family money. There are powerful enemies on her trail -- and now on Nick's trail, too.
brother Leo, who was one year older and looked like a young Denzel. But he had something. When he walked down the street or into a bar, women noticed him. Some of them got damp. He had recently turned thirty-one, and he was as lean, cut, and fit as the day he walked out of boot. “Which reminds me,” said Petersen. “While I’m out getting you lunch, no fraternizing with my interns.” “Right.” “Have you seen Constance lately?” “No,” said Lucas. “I had planned on promoting her here.” “Guess she
“Maybe,” I said. “But you probably knew that. And you came down here anyway to ask for my help. Right?” Billy finished his beer and replaced the bottle softly on the bar, then looked at me. “That’s right.” “You want to talk about it?” “I’d feel better if we went somewhere else.” Billy had a look around the bar. “I mean, this place is so depressing. Don’t you think it could use a few…” “Plants?” “Yeah, something.” “I don’t know. I kind of like it the way it is.” WE WERE GLIDING NORTH on
said. “Wanda, buy those two older ones their next round. And give the soldier in the middle whatever he wants.” “Sure thing.” Billy said, “And we’ll take a couple of those pig’s feet, honey.” Wanda said, “You got it.” A hand wrapped around my arm. It was attached to a little man in a Cubs cap who was sliding onto the stool to my right. The man was not very old, but he had lost his teeth and on this night at least was not wearing the replacements. He used my arm for support as he adjusted his
exited the Spot. I stopped uptown at my apartment for a shower and a shave, and to feed my cat. Out of the shower, I dressed the cut on the inside of my hand and left the bandage off. I put on jeans and a black V-necked sweater over a white T-shirt, and slipped my Doc Martens oxfords onto my feet. Before I left I stroked my cat’s head until her eye closed. She slinked across the room to her dish. Her eye was still closed as her pink tongue lapped water from the dish. I closed the door silently
too.” “What are you going to do?” Boyle said, “Fix it.” I dropped the Beretta to the hardwood floor. Boyle drew a handkerchief from his jacket and rubbed my prints from the gun as I stood. He moved to Goloria and placed the automatic in the hand that still had fingers, and he wrapped the fingers of that hand around the grip. Then he drew the Python and the .38 and walked around the bar to Solanis. Boyle bent down, and when he came back up the guns were no longer in his hands. I knew then what