“Oh, that,” said Nancy, rolling her eyes again.
Louis rubbed his face from frustration.
“He was a head counter or something,” Nancy said. “What he told me anyway. He says that’s what they pay him with, the fives, so he passes them on to me.”
“Sounds like he’s the one doing the collecting, he has all that cash on him. The fuck’s a head counter anyway?”
“Something to do with how many people see the movie. He counted them, I guess. Maybe he collects money, too, now, I don’t know. What do you care?”
“Maybe when the phone rang before it wasn’t my girlfriend.”
“Who then, your bookie?”
“Close enough.”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “You borrowed money again?”
“You should be a cop,” Louis said. “You’d fit right in. You could guess wrong and keep working backwards.”
“Now how much do you owe?”
“None of your business, except your other ex might be able to help me out there. He coming to see you with his child support this weekend or not?”
“Yeah, right. John’s behind two weeks as it is.”
“Maybe I should be there when he comes.”
“He doesn’t like you, Louis. You know that.”
“And I’m not exactly fond of him, but this is business.”
“None of yours, he’ll say. Besides, what do I do with my husband? You can’t confront John at my house, not with Nathan there. Think about it.”
He would have liked to smack her for being sarcastic. Louis was hoping to catch John Albano the day he collected, preferably after he was done so the count would be high.
“When’s he come to see his kid?” he asked.
Nancy crushed out her cigarette. “Why?”
“Maybe you’re still banging him, too, I wanna know.”
“I wouldn’t mind if you were jealous, but it shouldn’t be over John. It’s pretty obvious we hate each other.”
“When’s he pay for the kid? Which day?”
“Usually Sundays,” Nancy said. “When he shows up, but he didn’t show up last week. He owes me two weeks now.”
“Morning or afternoon? When he shows.”
“Used to be mornings, before the weekend stuff he’s doing. Now it’s whenever. What’s this sudden interest in John anyway?”
Louis ignored the question. “He have the money with him when he comes?”
“What? No, I just said. He’s late.”
“I’m talking about the other money, the cash he collects.”
“How do I know? Besides, he isn’t going to deal with you about child support. He won’t discuss anything that has to do with his son. There’s no talking to him about that kid.”
“Except you say he isn’t paying on time and he don’t spend enough time.”
“Because he’s broke and he’s working two jobs,” Nancy said. “But don’t kid yourself, his son comes first. John would walk away from a million bucks if that kid called.”
“He would, huh?”
“He isn’t going to discuss child support with you, Louis.”
She didn’t get it, the dumb fuck. “You’re sure of that?”
She leaned toward the night table for the ashtray. “No way,” she said. “And thank God he never knew about us when I was married to him. He might’ve killed you for that.”
“He might’ve tried,” Louis said. He finished tying his boot laces and stood up. “Point is, he’s got all that cash, he shouldn’t be late paying you. He should be flush, the work he does for his new friends.”
“John doesn’t even like those people, the ones he’s working for, and he’s barely making it now. He’s still working two jobs, even with this thing he does with that movie. By the way, did I tell you I know a woman knows the guy directed it?”
“Who?”
“Some woman gets her hair done where I go. Sharon Dowell. A real piece of work. Loose as they come. In her forties going on fifty, tries to look twenty. Word in the salon’s always been she sleeps with gangsters. Looks like she’s been around the block a few thousand times, so it might be true.”
“I take it you don’t like her.”
“We say hello. We’ve talked a few times.”
“And she knows the director of the movie?”
“What she says. He was a hairdresser.”
“What’s he, a fag?”
“Not according to Sharon. More like a swinger.”
Louis was interested. “This broad balled him?”
“She’s probably balled everybody, but don’t get any ideas. She’s not your type, Louis, trust me. Too old, for one thing. You like them young as I recall.”
Louis stroked the air with a fist.
“And she’s bossy,” Nancy said. “Very bossy. Apparently she has connections. Maybe from the director guy, I don’t know, but the girls at the salon think he’s mobbed-up, too.”
“Yeah, well, everybody knows somebody,” Louis said. “She really screw this director?”
“She sure made it sound like she did. She likes to drop names, though, so who knows. She claims she fucked one of the Vignieris, the one in jail, I think.”
“She fucked old man Vignieri, she is connected.”
“Who knows. All I know is I was sick of hearing her one day and got her jealous talking about you. I told her you look like Duane Allman. I don’t doubt she left a wet spot on her chair after.”
“You got a mouth on you, you know that?”
“Please.”
“Tell me this much. How’d John find that job in the first place, the movie thing?”
“Something to do with a fight in a bar. I don’t know.”
“He ever connected? His family, whatever.”
Nancy rolled her eyes again. “Please. John’s a straight arrow. His mother’s brother was involved or something way back and wound up dead, but that was a long time ago.”
“Those guys he’s working for are connected.”
“Like I said, he mentioned something about a fight in a bar. Ask him, you’re so interested.”
“I wish you would find out how much money he’s carrying when he stops by to pay you.”
“I ask him something like that and he’ll tell me to fuck off. He’ll tell you the same thing.”
“Can’t you call him?”
“If it’s that big a deal and you’ll stop bugging me I guess I can. He gave me the phone number of the bar where to reach him on weekends. It’s in Brooklyn. Williamsburg, I think. John said I should call there if I need him in an emergency.”
“What’s the name of the place?”
“I don’t remember. Something fast, with the word ‘fast’ in it. I’ll give you the number.”
“I’ll bet six-to-one it’s connected, the bar.”
“You’d bet on anything.”
“And I’d win, too.”
“Except your bookie isn’t being paid.”
Louis stopped what he was doing and stared at her.
“What?” she said.
“I forget,” he said, “is this why we divorced, because you can be such a cunt?”
Nancy lit a fresh cigarette. He knew she hated the C-word, but it was his best weapon when she got on him about gambling. Usually the C-word stopped her cold.
“Well?” he said.
“Look, John is always broke, so I don’t know what you think will come of being there when he comes to drop off the money he never has,” Nancy said. “Like I said, he owes me two weeks now. He drives around in that beat-up Buick and I don’t think I’ve seen him with a new shirt in two years.”
“So buy him one.”
“Very funny.”
The phone rang again. Nancy’s face tightened.
Louis yanked the cord from the back of the phone. “There,” he said. “Happy now?”