“You ever try their crackling pork shank?” I said, pointing to the sign.
“With firecracker applesauce? They don’t serve that here.”
“Pity. In that case, I’ll have a strip steak.”
“I look like a waiter to you?”
“Not so much,” I said. “Want to join me for a steak?”
“I’d join you for rooster knees!”
“Well, who the hell wouldn’t?”
Smith and Wollensky was still the premier steakhouse in Philly. Like its cousins in South Beach and New York, the restaurant has a bank of windows that offers great people watching. We sipped some bourbon in the main bar and rated the women. It was mostly sevens and eights until we saw a Megan Fox lookalike who had it all going for her: high cheekbones, sultry smile, the impossibly toned abdomen she bared for those of us who appreciate such things. She wore designer jeans with rhinestone-studded back pockets. Every now and then we caught a fleeting glimpse of thong when she set her purse down or picked it up, which by my count happened twice. At one point, while I was distracted by the soulless bartender, Quinn caught a down-blouse.
“Real or fake?” he said.
“I missed the defining moment,” I said, “but you date enough strippers you get a feel for these things, pun intended.”
“So your answer is?”
“Definitely real. Without question, you are looking at a gift from God.”
“I agree. What do you give her?”
“For me it’s an eleven.”
“There are no elevens,” he said.
“Look again.”
He did.
“You’re right. We need to create a new category.”
I said, “Must have been a perfect day in Heaven, what, twenty years ago? This girl comes down the assembly line, God’s in the best possible mood, and, there you go.”
“So for you it’s a religious experience.”
“Some people see God in a potato chip.”
“How do you rank her against Callie?”
“Callie’s a twelve.”
Quinn was about to argue for a higher score, but two Asian girls walked past us wearing cut off jeans that showed half their backsides.
“Look at that ass,” Augustus said.
“Which one?”
“Both.”
“Okay,” I said, “but just long enough to make sure I can identify them in case someone called the cops.”
“You’re a good citizen, Donovan.”
The hostess brought out waiter to us, and we followed him to our seats. Of course, everyone in the bar and restaurant gave Quinn a wide berth. As we walked past him, a drunk guy said to a friend, “Gimme your cell phone, I think I just sighted Bigfoot,” but instead of laughing, his drinking buddy moved away. Quinn seemed not to notice. He was actually chuckling.
“What are you laughing at?” I said.
“I just remembered the name of the movie star you look like.”
“Stop!” I said, “don’t tell me.”
“Fine. But you know who I’m talking about.”
“I feel like an idiot, taking this face out in public.”
“Th e chicks seem to like it,” he said. “You’re getting more fingers pointed at you than William Shatner at a Star Trek convention.”
Although I felt it was more likely the fingers were being pointed at Quinn, I said, “This is my test drive. So far so good, meaning, you’re the only one who’s laughed.”
“I’m not used to you with—what is it, sandy blond hair?”
“Light brown.”
“How often you have to dye that?”
“Regularly.”
“And the eyebrows?”
“Let’s change the subject,” I said. “How’s Alison these days?”
“Ouch. How would I know? I haven’t seen her in years. How’s Kathleen?”
“The same. What happened with Afaya?”
“He never showed up. One morning his “cousin” was at work in Denver, took his usual lunch break, never came back.”
“Someone tip him off ?”
“That’s what Darwin thinks, but it doesn’t matter. The threat went away.”
“How’d you and Alison start dating?”
“Who said we did?”
“Lou Kelly.”
Quinn stared at me a moment. “I guess you could call it dating. It lasted a couple of weeks, is all.”
I nodded, took a sip of my drink. He knew I was waiting for him to tell me how he and Alison got together sexually, when he was supposed to be training her to kill people. He finally did.
“She thought with you dead, maybe I’d give her the high-paying job you promised. I didn’t discourage her from thinking that.”
“You dog.”
“Woof. So anyway, when she realized that wasn’t gonna happen, she bolted.”
“You never heard from her again?”
Quinn laughed. “I know. You’d think, sensitive guy like me, she’d call whenever it rains or when she’s feeling blue, right?”
I smiled at the thought. “What about the guy from the Texas Syndicate?” I said.
“He didn’t follow up on her, far as I know. I think he had enough problems of his own, trying to stay in power.”
We were quiet a minute, and then I chuckled.
“What,” he said.
“She ever do that love song for you while in the throes of passion?”
“Which one—the asthmatic alley cat, or the singing horse?”
“The horse is the one I remember.”
Quinn gave a sudden imitation of her that made all the surrounding tables take notice. I laughed like I hadn’t laughed since the days of Kathleen.
Quinn said, “Alison was really something, she was.”
“So was Kathleen,” I said.
Quinn nodded. “So when do you want me to kill her fiancé?”
Chapter 51
Of course I didn’t want Quinn to kill Kathleen’s fiancé, but I appreciated the gesture. Hell, I’d thought of killing him myself and starting over with Kathleen, but like Callie said about quitting the business, each time I thought about it, I came to my senses.
Quinn and I had our steaks and split an order of truffled mac and cheese. During dinner we drank an outstanding cabernet, the 2004 Oracle, from Miner Family Vineyards.
“I only eat like this when I’m alone or with somebody,” I said.
“You were due,” he said. “Keep working out and eating like this and you’ll be back to normal strength before you know it.”
I almost told Augustus how much I’d missed him, but changed my mind at the last second. It wouldn’t have been worth all the shit he’d give me for saying it.
“What brings you to Philly?” he said.
“I came to see you.”
He twisted his face in the manner I’ve come to recognize as his signature smile. “That’s nice,” he said.
“People like us,” I said, “can’t afford to have many friends. I like to think of you and Callie as people I can count on.”
Quinn said, “I feel the same way. They’d have to pay me a lot to kill you or Callie.”
Coming from Quinn, that was quite a compliment. On the other hand, it was scary to think that this monstrous man who would kill me for the right price was the closest I had to a guy friend.
I looked at him as he stared at the women coming and going on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, and wondered if our team of surgeons could do anything about his extreme deformities. I decided they could not.
Quinn wasn’t as ugly as Joseph Merrick, the Elephant man, but at least Merrick enjoyed two years on earth as a normal human being before the growths began forming on his face and head. Quinn was born this way, and his world view was formed in response to the reactions he got from others.