"Loretta. What are you doing?"
"Trying on those shoes I bought."
"Those shoes."
"I bought. You were with me."
"That was three days ago."
"So I'm still trying them on. So what?"
"You're alone?"
"My mother's here."
"You're not alone?"
"My mother's here."
"She's there now?"
"She lives here. It's her house. She has a right."
"I just thought if you were alone."
"My mother's here."
"I could come over."
"She's still here. She was here when you first asked and she's still here."
"So meet me at the car. I'm parked across from Mike's."
"Meet you at the car? Now you want me to meet you?"
"We'll drive somewhere."
"What am I supposed to say? Ma, I'm going out for a bottle of milk."
"Tomorrow's off. You don't have to get up for school."
"I have to get up for the turkey. We have twenty-two people. I'm up at six-thirty Maybe when they all leave. Tomorrow night."
"Wear your shoes," he said.
He went over and watched George run the table. George had a floury face and hollow eyes and he talked to Nick with his nose compassed on the cue ball.
"What's this about you're not going to school no more?"
"No more, no more. Waste of time, don't you think?"
"Stay in school."
"Stay in school. Okay, George."
"Ifbu're working?"
"I got something I'll be doing part-time."
"What?"
"In an ice-cream freezer. Packing and unpacking."
"This is union?"
"What union? The union wants ice-cream packers to do twenty minutes in the freezer, twenty minutes out. So they don't freeze their peckers off. So the company's hiring fools like me."
George slammed in the four ball with a flourish, nearly driving the stick up into the ceiling. It was interesting to see a clammed-up guy like George become a showman at the table.
"You want some money in your pocket."
"That's right."
"And you're not thinking about the right or wrong of the situation or your own danger to your health."
"That's right."
"But they're gonna pay you shit-ass wages. What are they paying you?"
"Shit-ass wages."
"And they're gonna keep you in the freezer for unsafe periods. Let me talk to a guy I know. Maybe I can get you something better. You'll work like a beast of burden but at least you don't wear no mittens."
Vito Bats had taken Nick's place at the other table. Nick went over and watched, smoking, pointing out errors in their game.
"Everybody knows," he said.
"We just have to leave it," Vito said. "We don't go near it anymore. I'll take my uncle's plates off, late tonight. They'll see a car with no plates, they'll tow it away. Goodbye, good riddance."
"You'll never get laid, Vito. Both of you guys. That car is your only hope."
"I rather die a saint in my coffin than go to jail with ten thousand tizzoons."
"Give me the keys. I told Juju. Give me the keys, I take care of everything."
"Give me my uncle Tommy's plates, maybe I'll give you the keys."
"Take the fucking plates. I'm taking the keys."
"Ifou're taking ugazz. That's what you're taking."
"Hard-on. Give me the keys."
"U'gazz. All right?"
"See that stick? The stick you're holding. The stick you're holding."
"Alls I'm saying, Nicky."
"Cuntlap. Give me the keys."
He was talking to Vito even though he knew Juju had the keys. He didn't want to put Juju in a position where he would lose pride or standing. But Vito with those thick glasses and big lips, fish lips-he had those wet lips he was always licking.
"I don't get the keys, you know what happens to that stick? The stick you're holding. I give you one guess where it goes."
George the Waiter paid and left and soon the cardplayers came in, blinking in the smoke, the high-stakes poker players, they played till four, five in the morning, chips massed in the pot and a guy named Walls sitting by the door.
Walls carried a.38, this was the story, somewhere on his hip.
Four of the players were here and they stood at the counter talking to Mike and after a while two more players arrived and the lights over the pool tables began to go off and the poolshooters drifted out.
Somebody croons in a clear tenor, "Bluer than velvet was the night."
Walls was sitting by the door, different from the others, a narrow face and long jaw, hair cut short, and Nick watched him from the counter and Walls caught the look and raised his eyebrows slightly. In other words there's something you want to say to me?
Nick smiled and shrugged, taking his change.
"Be good," Mike said.
Vito borrowed a small folding knife off Mike's key chain and the three thieves went down to effectuate removal of the plates.
Mike the Dog went with them.
Nick watched them work and pointed out flaws in their method. He pissed against the hospital wall, drawing the dog's attention, and then went back to the car, where they were still disengaging the plates, and he commented freely.
Vito said, "Hey. Don't be such a scucciament'. All right?"
"Give me the keys," Nick said.
"We're not finished."
"You'll never be finished. Because you're a scumbag in the shape of a human. You're a scumbag that's gonna marry a dooshbag when you're twenty-one, Vito. God bless you. I'm serious. You and your lovely children."
When they got the plates off, Juju handed the keys to Nicky. It was his car now, a green heap, naked of documentation, gas tank close to empty.
Nick said he'd take the dog back up to Mike's and the two guys went their separate ways and Nick crossed the street with the dog alongside.
He started up the stairs talking to the dog and when he was three-quarters of the way up the tall door creaked open and the man named Walls stood there with his hand in his jacket.
Nick smiled at him.
"Walking the dog," he said.
Walls stepped back so the dog could get in. Then he stood in the opening again.
"I thought that was a thing you do with a yo-yo."
"That's right," Nick said. "Walking the dog. But I think my yo-yo days are over."
Walls showed a slight smile. Nick approached and looked through the opening, hoping that Mike might see him and invite him in to watch the game a while.
Walls shook his head, still smiling, and Nick nodded once and went back down the stairs. He got in the car, started it up and drove it to the original parking spot, two blocks away. Then he got out, walked around the car, inspecting it for this and that, and went back to the stoop in front of his building, where he sat haunched on the iron rail smoking one last cigarette before he went upstairs.
3
The knife grinder came and went. Matty was supposed to listen for the knife grinder's bell and then go downstairs with the knives that she'd set out on the kitchen table-knives to be sharpened and money to pay, all set out.
On her way home she saw the fresh-air inspectors standing on the corner, elderly men mostly, they were out even in cold weather provided the sun was shining and they stood there breathing steam, changing their position inchingly with the arc of the sun, and when she went upstairs the knives were on the table, dull-edged, and there was the money in bills and coins, thirty-five cents a blade, untouched and unspent, and Matt was at his board in the parlor, waiting for Mr. Bronzini.