saying anything stupid. Just listen in case the two Blues give up any good info.
They don’t.
But he learns something when he turns on the local 11 o’clock news in the bar.
The graphic next to the anchor’s head shows a gun. Sirens. A bank. Kieron’s not looking at the closed captioning—he’s trying to serve drinks and listen to the cops—till he realizes the cops have stopped talking.
The cops’ silence gets his attention.
Now he’s watching the TV. He shushes one of the regulars and turns up the volume.
The anchor says, “—If it wasn’t for the heroics of NYPD officers Saim Dajani and Joe Leonard, it’s almost certain we would have seen more innocent people harmed and possibly killed today. Patricia McNamara is at the scene with a live report. Patricia?”
The screen changes. The images of two smiling, freshly-uniformed officers fill the TV.
The Patricia woman starts to drone on about a bank robbery and...
Kieron thinks: Oh no.
The left one is the Southern dude. Joe.
The right one is Saim.
Kieron thinks: Fuck.
People in the bar realize that the two cops are sitting right there. Right next to em.
The news report TV goes on: Saim and Joe killed two goddamn bank robbers. And then pulled in the third for charges. And on top of that, they saved damn near twenty people.
Kieron thinks: Cops are bad enough. These two assholes are hero cops. And they saved a bunch of people around the fuckin corner . Which means this area is part of their beat. Fuck shit ass piss.
He wants em out of the bar.
But soon the heroes are enveloped in a small crowd of people offering congratulations.
Kieron blinks and rubs his face. He puts his charm on. Slides two free shots over to Saim and Joe. Says, “On the house.”
Saim and Joe take the drinks.
Kieron still thinks: Fuck .
***
Hours later, Saim stumbles out. Drunk off free booze from barflies.
He wonders how he’s gonna keep tabs on the bartender.
He’s got time on suspension to figure it out.
16.
Kieron watches the clock. The cops are gone, but he’s feeling paranoid as hell. He wants the night to be over. Now. He considers tossing the regulars out early. Shutting the doors. Except Saim or Joe might be watching. Which’d just be another sign he’s guilty of something.
Christ.
Sarah’s upstairs with Aaron.
He should be there.
Playing with LEGOs. Building Aaron’s ship.
Lying next to the one woman he thinks might not destroy his soul.
He could bring up a bottle of Jameson. Sit with a glass and watch Supernatural with his boy. Aaron always did like that show and—
The two idiot Russian thugs walk in.
Kieron turns his face away. Grimaces. “When it rains it fuckin pours. Pinko commies.” He grabs two Baltikas from under the bar. Pops their tops and sets them up for the thugs. He smiles at em. Says, “You guys are late.”
Fearless Leader says, “We been busy.” Smiles. Takes a pull from the bottle.
Boris laughs. “Yeah. Busy.”
Kieron says, “Hey guys. I ain’t your keeper. I’m sure my regulars got plenty of shit they gotta do when they ain’t drinking in my place.”
Fearless Leader says, “We had a good day. Keep the beers coming.”
Boris says, “Definitely a good day.”
Kieron smiles. Shrugs.
Thinks: Well, that’s good and creepy.
***
Before too long the thugs are going back and forth about chicks. Blondes they wanna bang. Brunettes they’d love to strip down and get fuckin. Mostly it’s boring. Cuz it’s the same kinda dumb shit that dumb men around the planet talk about when they’re drinking.
Takes three shots of vodka for anything interesting to fall outta their mouths.
Then, man, it’s a waterfall of info.
There’s another score. Grand and Clinton. Near Seward Park and those tenement buildings. Nothing crazy. How much? Like probably twenty grand. Jewels? Some. Electronics, too. Dope’s the main thing. Heroin. Some mid-level pusher’s getting too big. Boss wants to let him know
They don’t.
But he learns something when he turns on the local 11 o’clock news in the bar.
The graphic next to the anchor’s head shows a gun. Sirens. A bank. Kieron’s not looking at the closed captioning—he’s trying to serve drinks and listen to the cops—till he realizes the cops have stopped talking.
The cops’ silence gets his attention.
Now he’s watching the TV. He shushes one of the regulars and turns up the volume.
The anchor says, “—If it wasn’t for the heroics of NYPD officers Saim Dajani and Joe Leonard, it’s almost certain we would have seen more innocent people harmed and possibly killed today. Patricia McNamara is at the scene with a live report. Patricia?”
The screen changes. The images of two smiling, freshly-uniformed officers fill the TV.
The Patricia woman starts to drone on about a bank robbery and...
Kieron thinks: Oh no.
The left one is the Southern dude. Joe.
The right one is Saim.
Kieron thinks: Fuck.
People in the bar realize that the two cops are sitting right there. Right next to em.
The news report TV goes on: Saim and Joe killed two goddamn bank robbers. And then pulled in the third for charges. And on top of that, they saved damn near twenty people.
Kieron thinks: Cops are bad enough. These two assholes are hero cops. And they saved a bunch of people around the fuckin corner . Which means this area is part of their beat. Fuck shit ass piss.
He wants em out of the bar.
But soon the heroes are enveloped in a small crowd of people offering congratulations.
Kieron blinks and rubs his face. He puts his charm on. Slides two free shots over to Saim and Joe. Says, “On the house.”
Saim and Joe take the drinks.
Kieron still thinks: Fuck .
***
Hours later, Saim stumbles out. Drunk off free booze from barflies.
He wonders how he’s gonna keep tabs on the bartender.
He’s got time on suspension to figure it out.
16.
Kieron watches the clock. The cops are gone, but he’s feeling paranoid as hell. He wants the night to be over. Now. He considers tossing the regulars out early. Shutting the doors. Except Saim or Joe might be watching. Which’d just be another sign he’s guilty of something.
Christ.
Sarah’s upstairs with Aaron.
He should be there.
Playing with LEGOs. Building Aaron’s ship.
Lying next to the one woman he thinks might not destroy his soul.
He could bring up a bottle of Jameson. Sit with a glass and watch Supernatural with his boy. Aaron always did like that show and—
The two idiot Russian thugs walk in.
Kieron turns his face away. Grimaces. “When it rains it fuckin pours. Pinko commies.” He grabs two Baltikas from under the bar. Pops their tops and sets them up for the thugs. He smiles at em. Says, “You guys are late.”
Fearless Leader says, “We been busy.” Smiles. Takes a pull from the bottle.
Boris laughs. “Yeah. Busy.”
Kieron says, “Hey guys. I ain’t your keeper. I’m sure my regulars got plenty of shit they gotta do when they ain’t drinking in my place.”
Fearless Leader says, “We had a good day. Keep the beers coming.”
Boris says, “Definitely a good day.”
Kieron smiles. Shrugs.
Thinks: Well, that’s good and creepy.
***
Before too long the thugs are going back and forth about chicks. Blondes they wanna bang. Brunettes they’d love to strip down and get fuckin. Mostly it’s boring. Cuz it’s the same kinda dumb shit that dumb men around the planet talk about when they’re drinking.
Takes three shots of vodka for anything interesting to fall outta their mouths.
Then, man, it’s a waterfall of info.
There’s another score. Grand and Clinton. Near Seward Park and those tenement buildings. Nothing crazy. How much? Like probably twenty grand. Jewels? Some. Electronics, too. Dope’s the main thing. Heroin. Some mid-level pusher’s getting too big. Boss wants to let him know
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