Merrick

Merrick and I were chewing down on some Hot Dogs, washed down with Bud, after The

Jets had yet again been handed their ass.

That expression made me smile and Merrick, snapped

‘Us losing, that amuses you?’

Phew, he had an edge. You never knew when it might show. I said

‘Jesus, take a fooking breath, I’m not your enemy, I was tickled by the expression.’

He reined it in, then let out a tight breath, said

‘Sorry buddy, I’m wound tight as a freaking Sunday Rabbi.’

Like I was supposed to know what fook that meant?

Went with

‘Anything I can help with?’

He took a sharp bite out of the dog, looked at it, said

‘Jesus, the fuck I’m eating.’

Slung it in a perfect arc into a litter bin. He washed it down with the Bud, reached in the

cooler, pulled out two, twisted the caps, handed one over, said

‘Slainte.’

We’d been hanging out for almost two months now, cementing a solid friendship with

sports, music, the brews. We shared a bond in that neither of us were, exactly team

players, we didn’t need a chorus of disapproval to know who we were. An unlikely

friendship in just about every way but it seemed to be cooking. The case, the one he’d

originally mentioned had never been mooted since.

Being Irish, one thing you know, bad shite isn’t going away, you just have to wait and

sure as Mass, it will come slithering down the path.

It was about to.

He drained the brew, the guy could drink for Ireland and he asked

‘Remember the case I mentioned, the child stuff?’

Like you could forget such a blasphemy, I said

‘Yes.’

He took another kid.’

Jesus wept.

He reached in his cargo pants, took out a sheet of paper, handed it over, didn’t look at me.

I read

…………………….Yo, Jewish

…………………Taking over your deadbeat partner’s case?

…………………..Felications.

………………….Here is a head start for you.

And chuckle, the kid gave me some serious head, I digress, on West 59^th, Corner of 7^th

and 8^th, an old brownstone, second floor, kiddies delight.

Isn’t this fun kike?

One more sweet fang to savor then I’ll have me one of yours, the boy, twelve? little out

of my age group so I’ll do him quick.

Here’s a clue yah dumb Shamus……..clowns to the right……………..

Xxxxxxxxxx

…………………………Two much.

My stomach lurched. I asked

‘You call the cops?’