Killing Them Softly (Cogan's Trade Movie Tie-in Edition) (22 page)

“The fuck's a lawyer gonna do for him?” Amato said.

“He's gonna do it for me,” Frankie said. “He's gonna get Russell off my back. He wanted Mike Zinna.”

“I doubt if you can get him Mike,” Amato said. “I doubt if Mike'll touch him.”

“Oh, for Christ sake,” Frankie said. “Of course I can't get him Mike. I can't afford Mike, I couldn't get Mike for myself. And Mike, Mike couldn't do nothing for him. What's he gonna do, the guy's alone and he's got it in his hands? Make it disappear? What Russell really needs is a magician. No, I got him Toby.”

“I dunno Toby,” Amato said.

“That's because you never had nothing to do with junk,” Frankie said. “When they grab you with the junk, you call Toby and you pay him no more'n a grand and he gets you as good a deal as anybody could. The cops all know him. He's cheap and all the good anybody can do for Russell, Toby'll do it, and without going all ape-shit and telling the guy to give them the names of everybody he ever saw.

“Added to which,” Frankie said, “there's certain things Toby won't do, and that's good for me. Because Russell's gonna want something else, I figure.”

“Somebody hit the guy he thinks put him in,” Amato said.

“Right,” Frankie said. “So, all right, I'm a bastard,
but there's no way inna world he's gonna be able, get Toby to tell me that, and I'm not personally gonna go down and see him.”

“Where is he?” Amato said.

“Charles Street,” Frankie said.

“You'll get the message, then,” Amato said.

“I don't object to hearing it,” Frankie said. “You hear it, you can always say, well, what the fuck, I wouldn't go around and do something like that on what I heard. No, if the guy asked me, I'd have to tell him something, I guess, and I don't wanna do that, you know? I like Russell. He was all right to me, and I told him, not to do this. But shit, Goat-ass just did what he wanted, he went out and stole four pounds of procaine or something like that, and I suppose some fuckin' cop was bright enough, starts wondering who wants pounds of that stuff and that was it for Russell. Goat-ass didn't do anything. And besides, who the fuck am I? I didn't, I don't know anybody.”

“I see where Trattman knows a couple guys or so, though,” Amato said.

“That poor bastard,” Frankie said.

“Well,” Amato said, “I mean, it wasn't like, you didn't expect it or something.”

“Sure,” Frankie said. “But, you know, when it didn't happen, and Russell was telling me all that stuff there, then I was scared shitless, it wasn't gonna happen. I thought it was gonna happen to me. That don't mean, well, yeah, I'm glad it happened to him. But, I still wish it didn't even happen to him, you know? Didn't have to. Like Russell. I knew this was gonna happen to Russell. I told him. But the fuck, I know the guy. And I can't do nothing to help him. I don't know anybody.”

“He took his chances,” Amato said.

“Sure,” Frankie said, “and now he's gonna take his time. And you're taking your chances and I'm taking my chances and we're gonna do this thing, sooner or later, and probably they're not gonna get us this time, either. But I was thinking about it, right? Suppose, me and Dean go in the place, all of a sudden we got all kinds of cops around. Who do I call? Who do I call, that's not gonna give me the same kind of shit I give Russell? You know why Russell called me? Because, who else's he got to call? And it's the same thing. If we get grabbed in there, Dean calls Sandy. And what do I do? Have him tell her, get me somebody too? I can't call you, for Christ sake. They'd be waiting for that. I, we haven't got no friends, either. You look at it, you and me and Russell're in exactly the same position, except he's in it now and we're not in it yet.”

“Well, Jesus,” Amato said, “I mean, this was your idea and everything. It isn't like, I came around and saw you on this one. Shit, you're afraid of it, forget it. Won't piss me off any. I just went down there and I did, I did what you wanted. I haven't got no investment in this. I made almost four thousand yesterday alone. I can do without it.”

“Won for a change,” Frankie said.

“Yeah,” Amato said, “I kind of liked it too. Broke even about, the first part of the week. I got fifteen hundred or so Thursday after and then last night, another twenty-five onna Knicks. Knicks're gonna take it, this time.”

“Yeah,” Frankie said. “John, you told me it was gonna snow in the winter, I'd go out and bet against it, you know that?”

“Nice when you win, though,” Amato said. “I figure,
after what I been through, I'm gonna be winning pretty good when I start.”

“I figure,” Frankie said, “I'm never gonna start. I'm gonna stick to things I can figure out.”

“Well,” Amato said, “what is it, then?”

“How does it look?” Frankie said.

“It looks good to me,” Amato said. “It's nice and dark, they backed the block up to where they put the fill and there's a lot of brush and stuff there and signs on the roof that'll cover you when you're up on the roof. It's brick in front, which don't matter, and it's cinderblock in back. The roof's flat. Looks like tar and pebbles, some kind of cheap shit. I'd go in through the roof. There's a grocery store on one side and a place that sells glasses on the other side and I suppose you could go in through there. But I wouldn't. I'd go the roof. The guys in there in the daytimes're those dopes from Northeast Protective that couldn't see a hockey game in Boston Garden. The cops, I didn't do the cops yet. Northeast always works on two, three hour schedules because they don't hire enough guys. But if you don't want to do it, it's okay.”

“John,” Frankie said, “it's not this job. That's what I'm trying to tell you. It's not this one and it's not gonna be the next one, either, that's giving me the yikes. It's just, ah, shit, I dunno what it is. I don't like having guys after me, you know? I don't care who they're working for, I don't like having guys after me.”

T
HE BLACK GIRL
, lanky, arched her spine and bent her arms behind her to fasten her bra.

“The first one?” Mitch said. “She wasn't bad. She wasn't good but she wasn't bad, either. She was all right. Seemed like she was in an awful hurry, though.”

“Well, after all,” Cogan said, “it was probably pretty short notice for her and all.”

The black girl adjusted her breasts in the bra cups. Then she walked up behind Cogan's chair on the apricot rug and used the heel of her left hand to touch his right shoulder. “My dress, honey,” she said, “you're sittin' on my dress.” Cogan moved forward without turning his head. The black girl pulled the white dress out from under him. She put it on over her head, her feet splayed on the rug.

“Shit,” Mitch said, “its not that. It's the same thing as it is with everything else. Nobody does anything right any more.”

Cogan laughed.

“I mean it,” Mitch said. He picked up the glass on the end table next to his chair. “This's empty,” he said, looking at it. “Want one?”

“Too early for me,” Cogan said.

“Early?” Mitch said. He stood up in his tee shirt and shorts. “After noon.”

“Still too early,” Cogan said. “You go ahead if you want, though.”

“I'm gonna,” Mitch said. He went into the bathroom.

The black girl arched her back again to zip the dress.
“Honey,” she said, walking around in front of Cogan and stooping, back-to, “could you zip me up?”

“No,” Cogan said.

Mitch ran water in the bathroom. “Screwing's no different'n anything else,” he said.

“You bastard,” she said, straightening up. She turned and looked at Cogan. “I thought you were kidding.”

“I never kid,” Cogan said. He inclined his head toward the bathroom. “Get your trick to do it.”

Mitch came out of the bathroom, the glass full of dark Scotch and water. “Nobody gives a good shit any more,” he said. “You ask somebody to do something and you're willing to pay for it, and they say they'll do it and then they about half do it.”

The girl backed up to Mitch. “Zip my dress, honey,” she said. “Your nice friend there wouldn't do it.”

Mitch zipped the dress. “They still want all the money, though, bet your ass on that. No half money, no sir. All the money.” He went back to the chair, sipping from the glass. “Half the job. Pisses me off.”

The black girl sat down on the bed and put on her red shoes.

“For a guy that's been having himself a regular party for three days or so,” Cogan said, “you sure bitch and moan a lot.”

“I've been paying for it,” Mitch said. “I been paying for it myself. I can bitch about it if I want. You know this broad, this Polly?”

The black girl stood up and straightened her dress. She looked at Mitch. “Honey?”

“Onna bureau,” Mitch said. He drank. “Wallet's onna bureau.”

The black girl walked across the room, rotating her hips.

“Everybody knows Polly,” Cogan said.

“That's what the broad you sent up said,” Mitch said.

The black girl picked up the wallet.

“There's a hundred and seventy-three bucks in that,” Mitch said. “When I get up I wanna find a hundred and forty-eight, got that?”

“
Oh
-kay,” the girl said. She removed currency, counted it and put some back in the wallet. She put the wallet down. She picked up the shiny red shoulder bag from the bureau, opened it and put the money in. “No tip, Honey?” she said.

“No tip,” Mitch said.

“Because you know, Honey,” she said, “I got to give all this to my man. Girl needs something for herself now and then.”

“No tip,” Mitch said.

“You're the original sport,” Cogan said.

“Fuck her,” Mitch said. He drank again. “This's afternoon. She's, this one's gravy, right,
Honey
?”

“It's better'n filing,” the girl said.

“I wouldn't know about that,” Mitch said. “I never did no filing.”

The girl walked toward the door. “Well,” she said, “it's not
much
better'n filing, some times. But it's, it's
mostly
better. Some times, you know, you get an old guy, and then it's just faster.” She opened the door.

“You know, Honey,” Mitch said, “some day some old bastard you just milked, he might decide to carve you up some, talking like that. How'd you like that?”

“Jesus,” the girl said in the doorway, “I don't
know
. You think I'd
come?
”

“If you could, you might,” Mitch said. “Probably not, is what I think.”

“Fuck you,” the girl said closing the door.

“Which,” Mitch said, “is pretty much what I had in mind when I had her come up here. Christ you got some funny gash in Boston. I hadda practically talk her into it. That Polly, there? Same thing. Nothing but french. ‘For Christ sake,' I say, ‘I wanna get laid. Isn't that what you do?' ”

“No, it's not,” Cogan said. “Any guy you asked could've told you that.
I
could've told you that.”

“You didn't, though,” Mitch said.

“Well, you didn't ask me,” Cogan said. “Wasn't me that had her come up here. That broad I sent, she was all right, I assume? The guy said she's all right.”

“No more'n that,” Mitch said. “I couldn't get over it. I said to her: ‘Whaddaya mean, french? I happen to like fucking. Who's hiring who, here?' Didn't make no difference at all. You can feel her up, you can finger-fuck her, but you can't fuck her. For Christ sake. A fuckin' blow job.”

“It's supposed to be a great blow job,” Cogan said.

“When you wanna get laid,” Mitch said, “there's no such thing as a great blow job. She's telling me, guys spend two, three hundred a night for what she does. Is that true?”

“I guess it used to be,” Cogan said.

“Yeah,” Mitch said, “well, you know what I think? I think you're all nuts, letting broads get away with that.”

“She's supposed to be afraid of the clap,” Cogan said.

“Yeah,” Mitch said, “well, okay. That line of work, I don't think you oughta be able to say like that, but I didn't have no luck with her. She, she still didn't fuck anybody that I could tell you about. Her teeth fall out, boy, she's gonna be the hit of the world. But not me. You know something? I'll tell you something.” Mitch
finished his drink. “I haven't had a real piece of ass since I was in Florida.”

“That was one fine-lookin' broad you had down there,” Cogan said.

“Sunny,” Mitch said. “That was Sunny. I suppose you fucked her too, after I was gone.”

“Mitch,” Cogan said, “when me and Dillon got there that night, she was with you. When we left, you're still there and, wasn't she still with you? You're there, what was it?”