Few people argued with Burke about payments. They looked into his flat gaze and backed down. If they didn’t have money they made arrangements. Angelo liked him.
“Anthony’s right,” Angelo said to him. “You got a nice way with this. You talk to people. They come around.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I don’t want to hurt nobody if it ain’t necessary,” Angelo said. “Guy in the hospital ain’t earning money to pay me back. Dead guy is earning even less.”
“ ’Less there’s life insurance,” Anthony said.
“Well, ’a course,” Angelo said. “That’s a different story. We get it from the widow, that’s excellent.”
“Not a lot of widows going to give Burke any shit,” Anthony said.
“Damn few,” his brother said. “Generally they cough it up.”
“I don’t do widows,” Burke said.
Angelo stared at him.
“Whaddya mean?” Anthony said. “Why not?”
“I don’t feel like it,” Burke said.
Angelo kept looking at him. Nobody said anything for a time.
“You work for me,” Angelo said finally, “and mostly it matters what I feel like.”
“I heard that,” Burke said.
Angelo looked at Anthony.
“He’s your friend,” Angelo said, “whaddya think?”
“Angelo,” Anthony said, “it’s what you call a hypothetical question, ya know? Burke’s done a good job so far. Let’s worry about the fucking widows and orphans when it comes up.”
Angelo nodded slowly, staring at Burke.
“Okay,” he said. “Makes sense, but he got to know that I mean what I say. He don’t feel like something that I feel like doing — we’re gonna have some trouble.”
Burke made no comment. For all his face showed they could have been talking about Douglas MacArthur.
“Sure,” Anthony said. “That’s fair. Ain’t that fair, Burke?”
“That’s fair,” Burke said.
“Probably won’t come up anyway,” Anthony said. “You know? Probably not really a problem, anyway.”
“Probably not,” Angelo said.
Neither Burke nor Angelo mentioned the matter again. Later that week Burke got a copy of the final papers ratifying the divorce that he had not contested.
On a Monday evening Angelo took him to dinner. They sat in a dark booth in a place called Mario’s, and had spaghetti with marinara sauce, some sliced bread in a basket, and a bottle of Chianti.
“Guy I know,” Angelo said, “political guy. He needs somebody to watch his back for a while.”
“Because?”
“Because he does,” Angelo said. “I want to give you to him.”
“What are friends for,” Burke said.
He poured some more Chianti into the short water glass provided and drank some.
“I told him you was tough as a five-cent mutton chop,” Angelo said. “That you kept your word, and that you didn’t have much to say.”
Burke nodded.
“Pay’s good,” Angelo said. “And you step up a level.”
“Guy legit?” Burke said.
“ ’Course he ain’t legit,” Angelo said. “He’s legit, he don’t need his back watched. But he’s more legit than I am.”
Burke nodded again. The Chianti was cheap and sour. He drank it anyway.
“You and me are going to have trouble you keep working for me,” Angelo said. “You know it and I know it. You ain’t good at taking orders, and I’m really good at giving them.”
“True,” Burke said.
“Anthony says he owes you from Guadalcanal, and he’s my brother.”
Burke didn’t say anything.
“You want the job?” Angelo said.
“Sure.”