Tower

That time in the hospital with Nicky’s mother pouring it on was like being back home. Don’t know about Nick, but I was only half-listening. I remember that in spite of my folks, my childhood had been a good one. Spent most of it outdoors, beyond the walls of the Rosen Asylum for Empty Lives. Remembered the summer days when the moms, not Sophie, of course, would group together on someone’s stoop. We happily lived in the gutter and the schoolyard. We could weave a world out of asphalt and chalk. Now we lived in our own traps. Held incongruous shotguns in our hands.

Some detective named Ortiz came by to ask Nick a few questions. Waste of time. He would stay silent even if it was Boyle vis-à-vis Griffin that sent him a lead love letter. Nick would want to see to it himself. Me too. Rules of the street.

O’Connor met me at our usual spot. Wasn’t thrilled with my having been turned out. Acted pissy. Like I wanted to get exposed, right? Yeah boss, I even had a bull’s eye painted on the back of all of my clothes to make Griffin’s job easier. Might’ve been relieved to have it out there, but I wasn’t glad to become a fucking target. O’Connor gave me marching orders. I was to lay low and see how things with Nick would shake out, then it was out of town again till the time came to testify.

In spite of their high hopes for me, they hadn’t been able to build the grand case they had envisioned. Boyle’s crew would go down, that was certain. Maybe a few peripheral guys at JFK and the Port of Newark as well. But the big conspiracy case, the one reaching from Brooklyn to Boston, Belfast to the Mexican border, that was shot.

“Don’t fret, lad, your job is secure,” O’Connor assured me, a look on his face as if he’d been digesting glass shards.

As if it mattered. Thanked him anyway.

“What are the flowers for?” he wondered.

“I’ve thrown up on her grave twice. Sonya deserves a little something else from me this last visit.”

Shook his head. “Dead is dead, lad. She’s beyond caring.”

“I’m not.”

That hung there for a few seconds, him pondering the fact that inside he was nearly as dead as Sonya Einstein.

“Nicky’s gonna need a place to run.”

O’Connor started humming a tune that was familiar to me, but that I couldn’t put a title to.

“What’s that you’re humming?”

“‘My Old Kentucky Home.’ We’re way ahead of you, lad. Why do you think I asked you to hang around? I’ll have a package with the details delivered to you later today.”

Watched him walk away. When he was fully out of sight, I placed the bouquet on the grave. Didn’t do an apology. Picked up two rocks. Placed one atop Sonya’s headstone, one on my mom’s. It was Jewish tradition that. Explain it? Can’t. It would be like trying to explain how the fuck I got here in the first place.

The call came. Nick was fucked. Join the club.

Not even a hello. “I’m in deep shit.”

Said, “You’ve always been in deep shit, Nicky, but needing help, that’s new.”

We met in a diner in Manhattan. Aren’t any real diners in Manhattan, just money vacuums dressed up to look like them for the tourist trade. Like everything else in the city, you want reality, you go into the boroughs. That’s where you find New York. Only authentic thing in Manhattan is the bullshit.

“Eggs over easy, I think.” Only in Manhattan could you call two eggs for $9.95 easy.

Nick was busy pouring Jim Beam in his coffee. Christ, if he didn’t look scared. Wasn’t the bullet hole in him either. No, something else was at him. Suspected I knew what that something was.

“Shannon’s husband was shot to death last night. My guess is it wasn’t you. Tell me I’m right. You did that, even I can’t help you.”

Just sat there, drank his high octane coffee. The burden of speech was still on my shoulders.

“Griffin? A set up. Let me guess. You do me or they fuck you?”

Nick looked impressed. Not an easy thing to pull off.

“Never really wanted this life, but I’ve got a talent for this cop shit.”

Impressed ran to desperation. “What am I going to do, Todd?”

My opening, slid a packet across the counter to him.

“There’s a small town in Kentucky. I have a buddy there.” For a guy from Brooklyn with one friend in the world, I seemed to have old buddies spread out over the country like dandelion spores. “He’ll give you a job. Lie real low and we’ll see to things on this end. There’s some cash in there and a ticket for a train outta Penn Station. Leaves tomorrow morning.”

“What about Shannon?”

“I’ll talk to her. You just get the fuck out. Things are going down. Now you’re only a nuisance. We’ll bring you back up for the indictments.”

Horrified. “You want me to testify?”

“You have a choice? It’ll be messy, bro, but I’ll sort it out.”

“And my parents?”

“Go see them tonight, tell them you’re going for a fresh start. They’ll be glad you’re straightening out.”

Nick, his old self returning. “That’s it? I just split and what... wait?”

“You got it. You’re out of it.”

“I’ll be moving on then. Any words of wisdom to speed me on my way?”

“Sure. You shoulda had the eggs. They’re great.”

And there was Nicky walking out of my life. Least, that’s what he thought.

Waited for the splash, for the car to pull away. Typical fucking Nicky, effective but sloppy. The rage again. Griffin’s pants had snagged on one of the pilings. The waterline was high and it wasn’t much of a strain getting my hands on him. Pulling his dead, waterlogged carcass the fuck out of the river was another issue. Thought both my shoulders would tear apart. There goes my pitching career!

Got his body onto the pier, the skin no colder now than when he was drawing breath, his heart probably warmer. I weighted the bastard down good and trussed his ass up like a chained mummy. He’d come up eventually. They almost always do, but he’d be hell to identify. Liked thinking about him as fish food.

“Give my regards to Rudi.”

Pushed him back in the Hudson for the long dive goodnight.