“If you insist, nobody can stop you, not that I like you roaming around outside with your head in such physical shape. Though if you do leave and need a lawyer for future advice on these matters I’m not saying you don’t legitimately fear, I do have a private practice too. This should be confidential between us if you don’t mind. I’m not by city law allowed to take for money one of the defendants I was initially appointed by the court to defend for free, even after the charges against him are dropped, and my fees compared to lawyers of much less caliber and human sympathy are relatively cheap. Here’s my card.” She takes one from her briefcase and puts it in my hand. “Maybe you’ll forget it’s there, though your attention span seems to be progressing by the second,” and she opens a sidetable drawer. The whistler says “Hey, lady, what are you doing in my things?” and she says “Sorry,” goes around my bed and opens what I suppose is my drawer, takes out my wallet, says “Mind?” and sticks the card in. “One positive thing I can probably do for you now is get your nurse,” and she touches my finger and goes.
“Wait!”
“What?”
“Advice. What do I legally do if Stovin’s group comes at me again?”
“Why should they? If what you say is true, then they gave you your lumps. If what you say isn’t, then what’s to worry about?” and she goes.
Nurse comes in with two policemen and says “Actually our policy is if you can stand by yourself once we get you out of bed, you can walk out of here if you have your court release, so let’s first see if we can make you stand.”
They help me out of bed. She says “Ready?” and I nod and they let go of me and I keep standing though sag at the knees somewhat and really have to fall.
“Good boy. They’ll get you dressed. Truth is it’s only because there was a big knifefight in your jail last night that I’m kind of hurrying you, Mr. Fleet, as they’re now recovering in the halls. Besides of course we always no matter how many fights and suicides a night in there need all the beds we can get for the injured prisoners coming from the outside. Stay out of trouble and best of luck.”
I’m discharged, go to my hotel, am given a new room, with a view, as they thought I ran out on the bill and wouldn’t be back, rest and that night call Hector at home. His wife, when I tell her my name, says “He out, be back.” She says that every hour for three hours till I call and say in a phony accent and voice with a tissue over the mouthpiece “Hey, dis is Jake,” who’s a drinking pal of his, “de old crow in?” an expression for Hector I’ve heard Jake use.
Hector gets on and says “Jake, you dumb jerk, how do they say it: so what’s it by you?”
“Hector, how come you don’t want to speak to me?”
“Shaney? Not speak to you how? What’s with this Jake? Anything happen to him?”
“Your wife told me you weren’t in.”
“I just came through the door while she was talking. How are you? Heard you were really hurt bad.”
“Heard from who?”
“Why the exam? I don’t know: cops. One on the street. Not on the street where he told me but one from the street I remembered when I spoke to him by phone at the police station as to if anything happened to you and he said you’d been busted over the head real bad. I’m really sorry for you. How do you feel?”
“What’s this policeman’s name?”
“I don’t know his name. His voice, on the phone, and don’t ask what kind of voice. Just a voice, a rough one on and off the phone that I remembered by ear. Maybe I only think it’s him I spoke to.”
“Hector, how come I’m not believing you? It’s funny but now that both my ears are bandaged over and I’ve got to strain to hear anything, I’m starting to hear better than I ever did before.”
“I don’t understand. Speak clearer. What’s all that jumble about?”
“Speak clearer. Jumble. You don’t understand me. Bull. I don’t like this, that’s what I’m saying. That you didn’t want to speak to me. That you just came in the door.”
“I did. Ask my wife. No, leave her out of it. I just came through and that’s what I did.”
“Forget it. How much you give Kelly so I know when I ask him for it?”
“You know, you really came out sooner than anybody and that cop expected you to. I’m not kidding when I said I spoke to him. Maybe you weren’t hurt that bad after all.”
“I came out because I was afraid to stay in. My head still kills me. Now how much?”
“One twenty-one and change. Fifty cents to be exact if I remember. Yeah.”
“What? I had two hundred minimum between the register, tip glass and spillover box. What’re you pulling on me?”
“That’s all there was. I knew I shouldn’t have taken the job. People always accuse you.”
“Damn right. Where’s the rest, Hector?”
“Where’s what? I did you a favor, now you’re insulting me for the lousy fifteen you gave me and all your stinking free drinks and crummy food for two days? Screw off, I’m never coming around your place,” and hangs up.
I call back. “Hector please.”
“Out for good, fuck you, take a walk, who you think you are?” his wife says and hangs up.
I go to bed. Trying to find a place to rest my head keeps me up half the night. Next day I go to Kelly’s and he slaps his cheek when I walk in and says “God in heaven, what happened to you?”
“Looks good, huh? You didn’t hear?”
“Hear? I knew something had to be wrong when I called your bar over and over again.”
“It’s been closed, you didn’t know?”
“Nobody told. And I never leave here except back and forth home to the subways and your place isn’t on my way. I thought you were sick, your heart, the insides, something that knocked you out for the first time in your life — the flu — but nothing so bad as this. What, you got hit by a truck?”
“Pipe truck. In the night, no headlights. Actually headlights — mine, but forget it, I’m still a little screwy up there. Though I’m sure it was one of Stovin’s who did it, a fellow cellmate, forget the details for now, I’m tired of telling them, but just came in for my money or what Hector left of it.”
“First a drink. Rye, right?”
“Can’t. I’m on medication, and it’s scotch.”
“Medication nonsense. Have a drink. I’ll go one with you.” He pours us both a shot and soda backup, fills a bowl with salted peanuts and puts it between us.
“What is it, Kelly? I got to go to work.”
“In your condition? Drink up, have a nut.”
“Yes to work. Now what is it, stop dillying.”
“You won’t like this and which was why I was calling you over and over so much, but something funny happened to your dough. Not funny to laugh at, for you see—”
“You don’t have it?”
“First listen. Drink up, have a nut.”
“Just tell me.”
“I put it away as Hector said you told me to. In my least obvious spot, nobody but me and a somebody very dear to me who wouldn’t take a toothpick off the bar without first asking me, if she knew I didn’t want her to. When next day, along with my own cash numbered in the hundreds which I always keep, as you also must, for Sundays and bankless holiday Mondays that we forget are coming, and all the money, yours included, was gone from the hiding spot. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Hey, now wait a minute.”