He holds up the other fist.
– You, Joe. What I mean is, if Selby had crossed a line and needed to be let out of his obligations to this world, well, man, then hadn’t you done the same? Didn’t I owe it to the Society to remove a man who’d chosen to disregard the greater good for the sake of his own sensibilities? A man who, with every day it became increasingly clear, a man who was turning his back on our philosophy. Didn’t I have a responsibility to, I don’t know, to put that man out of the sphere where he could do us the most harm? With what you knew about the Society, I think, from where I am now, I think I lost an opportunity there. Blew a chance to make things run smoother. If I’d just fucking killed you then.
I nod.
– We all have regrets.
He unballs his fists.
– Yes, we do.
He looks at Lydia, still bundled on the floor, her eyes trying to find a way to burn holes in his face.
– Speaking of regrets.
He rubs his forehead.
– I seem to have been rash. Letting my anger get the better of me. I should have, like the book says, I should have stepped aside when Lydia charged in here and accused me of withholding, what was it, withholding knowledge of crimes against humanity. But that kind of thing gets under my skin. Always has. If I’d waited a moment before telling Hurley to, you know, calm her down, Lydia might have mentioned that her Bulls were nearby and waiting for her to come back out.
He taps a finger on the book.
– A little too late, I threw the coins on that one.
He gets up from his thrift store bargain table.
– They had recognized you, Joe, they would have probably grabbed you off the sidewalk. Just for, you know, being you. I’m guessing they made some socioeconomic assumptions based on your appearance and didn’t think to move till you were already on the doorstep. But you’ll be the last one in.
He points up.
– We have, I don’t know, we have a few dozen partisans in here. Some clerical staff. A couple members in hospice, dealing with the shock of recent infection. And the old school. Us. Lydia’s Bulls have the front covered. We have the alley, but they have the rooftop behind us. It’s a stalemate scenario.
He circles the table and leans his hip against it.
– How long, if you were to make a guess, how long would this kind of dissent take to travel uptown? I’m talking about the awareness of it, not the dissent itself. Which would make no sense at all.
I scratch my knee.
– Things were normal, maybe a day before word got out. Way things are now, word is already on its way.
– Yeah, that’s my thought.
He looks down at Lydia again.
– And when Predo hears we’re all tied up here, and that’s not meant at your expense, Lydia, he’ll jump. Move his people down. You know, the Coalition owns property here. They hold leases. So, while we’re fighting with ourselves, he’ll literally bus his people down and put them in those properties. By the time we can, if we can, come to terms, we’ll have at least two hundred Coalition members housed on our turf. That’s if he doesn’t just come at us here. Attack Lydia’s Bulls from the rear while they’re focused on us, and then. It’s all so. Things just. I’m.
He takes off his glasses and covers his eyes.
– I’m at something of a loss.
Eyes still covered, he raises a finger.
– Even if we avoid Predo’s involvement, a division like this is, I don’t know, has the potential to be mortal. Man, it’s like, how do you restore confidence in your leadership when they’ve just gone toe-to-toe in a power struggle? Because, our people, they’re out there, watching how this resolves. If we can’t, if Predo knows, all the Society knows, and that just. That just.
He takes his hands from his eyes.
– Cripples us, man.
My stuff is on a shelf across the room. Keys, wet matches, knife, saw, tobacco. I stare at the tobacco. I’m getting crawling claws in my belly again and a smoke sounds better and better.
– You need a symbol. Something you can rally around, show unity with. Something that gives people hope that you can move forward. That kind of thing.
Terry raises his eyebrows.
– That’s some interesting thinking, Joe. Did you have something in mind?
I point at my tobacco.
– I might think more clearly with a smoke.
He shakes his head.
– Should have picked Camel as your last name instead of Pitt.
I get up and go for the Bugler.
– Sure, except I’m a Luckys man.
– And Joe Lucky wouldn’t have fit at all.
I flick out a paper and wave it back and forth. It crinkles enough to let me know it can be rolled.
– Doesn’t seem so.
He rotates a finger.
– Your thought, Joe.
I get another of my crippled jobs rolled, but the match heads are just smearing on the striker. I cross to the little propane stove in the corner, turn on the gas, hit the sparker, wait for a flame, and light up.
All is right in the world.
– My thought is, Predo’s not worried about you right now. What he’s worried about is the hit he’s about to lay on the Cure house. Got a heavy contingent ready to go in sometime after midnight. His back is the one that’s turned. You kids can settle your differences, you can slide up there and put a hurt on him while he’s trying to clean up Horde’s mess. As a bonus.
I suck smoke, let it go to work on my lungs, and kick it back out.
– Chubby’s daughter and her beau are sitting tight up there too. Complete with their handy little symbol of unity right in her stomach. All you got to do is stop sweating out past scores with me and go get it.
I get some more of that smoke inside me.
– You can keep from killing me too soon, I’ll even show how to get up there without anyone seeing you at all.
Terry runs a hand down his ponytail, purses his lips, walks over to the shelf where my stuff is and picks up the amputation blade. Taking it from the rubber sheath, he steps to Lydia, squats, places the tip of the blade against the racquet ball in her mouth, and stabs an inch of the blade into the ball. Putting the knife aside, he pokes his finger into the slit he’s made, hooks it, and gives a hard pull, popping the saliva-covered ball past her teeth and dropping it on the floor.
– Can I interest you in a negotiated settlement, Lydia? She spits.
– You can fuck off and die, Terry. You and your hypocritical dialectic bullshit can fuck off and die.
He picks up the blade.
– My options are limited here, Lydia, and in deference to our working relationship, I’d like to avoid doing anything that I can’t, you know, maneuver around. Anything with irreparable consequences. So if you’ve got your knee-jerk anger reaction out of your system, do we have room to talk here?
Through her teeth.
– After Predo and the Cure house, we go to Queens. The hole. The kids. No discussion. No compromise. We save them. The right fucking thing, Terry. With no gray.
He shrugs.
– Hey, man, that’s the kind of opportunity I’m looking for every day of my life.
He starts to untie the twists of coaxial binding her, looking over his shoulder at me.
– Joe?
– Old buddy.
– Why’d you let Selby go?
I drop my butt and crush it.
– To see if I could get away with it.
He yanks a loop of cable free and rises.
– Yeah. I was right. Should have killed you then.
I start pocketing my keys and such.
– Think of all the fun you’d have missed out on over the years, Terry, without me around. Like a king without a court jester.
Nobody will give me a gun.
– Wasn’t for me, Lydia, you’d still be hog-tied on the floor.
– I don’t see the connection.
I fumble with the buttons of the clean shirt Terry had someone dig up for me.
– Just saying you might have one of your Bulls lend me a piece for this gig. Seeing as how I’m the one talked Terry around to not killing you.