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getting.”

    “Tough story about your knee. But Homer, didn’t I ask you how you picked up fighting?”

    Wow, I’m rambling. I know what he asked me, but it’s the first time I ever really spoke to Sev. He’s the boss; why does he give a shit about me? Man, I’m getting buzzed. Tina walks over with two more shots. At this point I welcome the shots and damn, Tina looks good.

    “Sorry,” I say. “They’re kind of related. Despite my knee injury, my high school coach put in a word for me at New York State University where he had some connections. They offered some financial aid and some bullshit job that I didn’t even have to show up for. It was enough to get me by. They called it a ‘soft scholarship.’ I was going to be a walk-on player. It was the best I could do with a bad knee.

    “When I got to school, way the fuck up in Albany, the ‘soft scholarship’ got pulled from me and six other prospective players. Only one guy really had a shot for the team and the rest of us were like insurance. It’s the same as an airline overbooking a flight. So here I am; if I want college, I got to pay for it. If it’s not college, it’s back to Hempstead. So I started working a bunch of shit jobs to make tuition and pay bills. Then I lucked out. They had this crazy old coach who took guys like me and trained us for club fights. When we won, he got a third of our prize. I got to learn how to box and make some decent bucks. But to tell you the truth, I dug getting the attention again.”

    I’m surprised Sev’s asking but more surprised he’s listening. I’m feeling weird telling Sev about this shit. I wouldn’t mind not talking anymore. As a matter of fact, I can use some answers myself. Fuck it, I tell myself. Let’s see if I can get some info; worst case, if he gets heated up, I blame the 151.

    More of the liquor magically appears at our table. Tina lights them up. It dawns on me that she’s probably lighting them right at the table as opposed to the bar so that the blue flames won’t lap up the booze before we get our chance. It’s a pretty good observation. I’m thinking that this stuff might actually be making me smarter. “Sev, can I ask you something?”

    “Yeah, what’s up?” Sev seems to be more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. His head is bopping slightly to the Allman Brothers song, “Sweet Melissa.”

    “Who whacked Georgie Skolinsky?” I ask.

    “Good question, but it’s not one I’m gonna answer. You got any other questions, wiseass?” Before I could ask anything Sev blurts out, “Say, how did you get into Kosher World anyway?”

    “I got friendly with Rich Balducci, Jimmy Balducci’s son.” I told him how we started at the Remington Academy together. We both really stood out, I said, since everyone else there practically came off the Mayflower except for the two of us. “I got in for hoops and Balducci’s old man donated a building or something. The kids let me alone but they really hassled Richie. I kinda looked out for him and even got him on the basketball team. His father always appreciated that, and every now and then he did some nice things for me. I still stay in touch with Richie, and when his dad knew I needed some money over the summer, he did me this favor.”

    “He gets you in Kosher World and considers that a favor?” Sev chuckles quietly.

    “You laugh, but I’m always looking for money,” I say. “This is as good as it can get for me as far as the dough.” We both fall silent for a minute, and I figure I can try again. “How come nobody can give me a straight answer about where you were before Kosher World? Did you do any fighting?”

    This question seems to intrigue Sev and I can see his normally powerful eyes are starting to get glassy. “I don’t know.... Is it just you asking?”

    “Yeah, just me. Who’s gonna listen to me anyway?” I say.

    “It’s funny, but no one’s really had the balls to ask me to my face for years,” Sev says.