to risk it? You’re not the only asshole in town who knows how to perpetrate an irrational act.”
I wanted to argue with him for as long as it took. Failing that, I wanted to leave before I went down with him. I had done a great deal of both in our long friendship.
“Don’t worry. These guys are tough in their own neighborhood, they’re tough in a group at a party. But they don’t travel much. And my apartment is in a totally different part of town,” Joe said and took a gulp of more whiskey than could have been pleasant.
It was a heinous plan. But in a weird way, I trusted Joe to pull it off. His lunacy never put him in jail or the hospital for longer than a long weekend. And his lunacy certainly stood out against the grim monotony of the coming weeks.
“Well, it’s one hell of a pickle you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“A pickle indeed. I mean, I have a gang actively hunting me. How about them apples?” Joe said.
“You’ve come a long way from Venerini Academy. I forget, weren’t you voted ‘Most Likely To Be Actively Hunted By A Gang’?”
“I forget. It was either me or Anthony DiStephano,” Joe said, cracking up.
We laughed and got more drinks, Sunday be damned. The middle-aged band started warming up at the front of the room. My driving instructor, a bald, acne-scarred man with a sad, hound-dog face, was playing bass.
“But seriously, you don’t have a gun, do you?” I asked.
“No. That was a lie. But I’m getting one. I think Marissa’s boyfriend knows somebody.”
“Again, it seems like you’re trying to put out a fire with gasoline. Say you get a gun, and say you do defend yourself with it, then what? You go to jail, at least until they can prove it was self-defense. And even then, they’ll probably charge you for having the gun. Two stupids don’t make a smart.”
“I don’t think I’ll have to use it. But fuck it. Sully and them can fucking bring it on. I was born here and I have friends everywhere. I’m not going to just back down and run away. I’m a lot smarter than they are. So if I do go, it will be on my terms. I’m not going to New York with just a thousand dollars and starting from scratch.”
“I’m just saying, it seems like you’re putting yourself at risk for no good reason.”
“Maybe it is foolhardy, but life is boring. I mean, I’ve gone to school, I’ve worked, I’ve travelled, I’ve done drugs, I’ve slept with beautiful women. And that’s all great. But it’s not that great. It’s not that impressive. I’ve never had a job I wanted to keep, or met a woman I’d want to marry. It’s all a big so what . I mean, tomorrow, I’m back in the office, filing records and giving out parking permits. So let it get nuts. Let the dice fly high.”
“That didn’t work out so great for Caesar.”
“Maybe not. But he had a good run, and I bet he wasn’t bored. I honestly do not give a damn.”
Not giving a damn was Joe’s particular faith. It was his way out of a dead end. It protected him from the frightening moments that came with being at odds or in league with dangerous people. He had booze and drugs to keep from being bothered by the shallowness of dubious friendships and hookups. And he had not giving a damn to shelter him from the inevitable betrayals and disappointments of that life, from how the nights added up to very little over time.
The band started playing a Dire Straits tune. Joe got up to use the bathroom, and when he wasn’t back after a song, I spun around, suddenly afraid. But he was at the end of the bar, hitting on a middle-aged Spanish woman who looked the worse for wear. I drank my drink and ordered another one, giving Joe room to operate. The band played a few more cover tunes and closed out their set with an original song about fast cars and child support. I looked back over at Joe. His mouth opened in big, crazy laughs, and the Spanish woman’s eyes followed him, amused and hungry.
I went outside. The steps were icy,
I wanted to argue with him for as long as it took. Failing that, I wanted to leave before I went down with him. I had done a great deal of both in our long friendship.
“Don’t worry. These guys are tough in their own neighborhood, they’re tough in a group at a party. But they don’t travel much. And my apartment is in a totally different part of town,” Joe said and took a gulp of more whiskey than could have been pleasant.
It was a heinous plan. But in a weird way, I trusted Joe to pull it off. His lunacy never put him in jail or the hospital for longer than a long weekend. And his lunacy certainly stood out against the grim monotony of the coming weeks.
“Well, it’s one hell of a pickle you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“A pickle indeed. I mean, I have a gang actively hunting me. How about them apples?” Joe said.
“You’ve come a long way from Venerini Academy. I forget, weren’t you voted ‘Most Likely To Be Actively Hunted By A Gang’?”
“I forget. It was either me or Anthony DiStephano,” Joe said, cracking up.
We laughed and got more drinks, Sunday be damned. The middle-aged band started warming up at the front of the room. My driving instructor, a bald, acne-scarred man with a sad, hound-dog face, was playing bass.
“But seriously, you don’t have a gun, do you?” I asked.
“No. That was a lie. But I’m getting one. I think Marissa’s boyfriend knows somebody.”
“Again, it seems like you’re trying to put out a fire with gasoline. Say you get a gun, and say you do defend yourself with it, then what? You go to jail, at least until they can prove it was self-defense. And even then, they’ll probably charge you for having the gun. Two stupids don’t make a smart.”
“I don’t think I’ll have to use it. But fuck it. Sully and them can fucking bring it on. I was born here and I have friends everywhere. I’m not going to just back down and run away. I’m a lot smarter than they are. So if I do go, it will be on my terms. I’m not going to New York with just a thousand dollars and starting from scratch.”
“I’m just saying, it seems like you’re putting yourself at risk for no good reason.”
“Maybe it is foolhardy, but life is boring. I mean, I’ve gone to school, I’ve worked, I’ve travelled, I’ve done drugs, I’ve slept with beautiful women. And that’s all great. But it’s not that great. It’s not that impressive. I’ve never had a job I wanted to keep, or met a woman I’d want to marry. It’s all a big so what . I mean, tomorrow, I’m back in the office, filing records and giving out parking permits. So let it get nuts. Let the dice fly high.”
“That didn’t work out so great for Caesar.”
“Maybe not. But he had a good run, and I bet he wasn’t bored. I honestly do not give a damn.”
Not giving a damn was Joe’s particular faith. It was his way out of a dead end. It protected him from the frightening moments that came with being at odds or in league with dangerous people. He had booze and drugs to keep from being bothered by the shallowness of dubious friendships and hookups. And he had not giving a damn to shelter him from the inevitable betrayals and disappointments of that life, from how the nights added up to very little over time.
The band started playing a Dire Straits tune. Joe got up to use the bathroom, and when he wasn’t back after a song, I spun around, suddenly afraid. But he was at the end of the bar, hitting on a middle-aged Spanish woman who looked the worse for wear. I drank my drink and ordered another one, giving Joe room to operate. The band played a few more cover tunes and closed out their set with an original song about fast cars and child support. I looked back over at Joe. His mouth opened in big, crazy laughs, and the Spanish woman’s eyes followed him, amused and hungry.
I went outside. The steps were icy,
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