The Good Neighbor (39 page)

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asked one of the nurses to hold a piece of paper for him, while he wrote on it:

Dear Betty,

Thanks for everything. You saved me.

Coltrane Hart

“She’ll like that,” said the nurse. “She always likes to hear things from her patients.”

“She’s a hell of a nurse,” said Colt. “You’re all good nurses.” “Why, thank you,” said the nurse, one he hadn’t met yet. “I feel like I’ve been here for a year,” Colt told her.

“That’s normal,” she said. “Lots of people feel that way. A day in the hospital is like a month outside, we always say.”

“I hope that doesn’t apply to the people who work here, too,” Colt said.

The nurse tittered. “Sometimes it seems that way,” she said.

“I don’t know how to explain this,” Colt said, “but I’m going to miss being here. I almost don’t want to leave. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“That’s normal, too,” the nurse said. “One look at your bill will probably cure you of that, though.”

“I don’t even want to see it,” said Colt.

“You can just take it down to the business office,” said the nurse, handing him a folded sheet of paper. “They’ll handle you down there.”

“All right,” said Colt. “So long. And thanks.”

❚ ❚ ❚

He hired a car to take him back to New York, and rode in the back, in silence, letting the chauffeur babble on about his grandchil

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dren—the pain was still bad enough that it took up most of his concentration. It was with extreme relief that he climbed the stairs to their apartment. He felt automatically in his pocket for his keys, only to remember that Flebberman had thrown them out the window. He cursed. There was certainly no point in going out to look for them now. Then he remembered that he hadn’t even locked the door to the apartment—how could he? Which meant that it had been sitting unlocked for an entire week.

A lifetime in New York had taught Colt that you never went into your apartment if you had the slightest reason to suspect there was someone else in there—because the odds were that someone
was
, or had been. But he had nowhere else to go, and be sides, the ride from Allentown had exhausted him. He wanted nothing more than to sit on his own couch, tune the television to MSNBC, and take a nap. Hesitantly he tried the knob. The door swung open, creaking too loudly. Colt winced. If anyone was in side, they would know he was here now.

At first glance, everything in the front room appeared to be where it was supposed to be. Scarcely believing his good fortune, Colt took a few hesitant steps inside, remembering just in time to swing his arm out of the way so it didn’t collide with the door frame. It was going to take him a while to get used to that. No lurking burglars clobbered him on the head, no junkies were nod ding off in the corner. Perhaps he’d beaten the odds—he’d gotten away with it. Score another one for Mayor Giuliani, he thought. With a sigh of contentment, Colt slammed the door and locked it—safe.

Then he turned around again and let out a yodel of surprise. There before him, having just appeared in the kitchen doorway, was a nude man with long hair and a heavily bruised face.

“Holy shit!” said the nude man. “What are
you
doing here?” “Gaah!” said Colt.

He turned and tried to make his escape, but having already for gotten that he’d just closed the door, he ran into it, the fingers of

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his upraised arm slamming directly into the fireproof steel and sending shock waves from his fingernails all the way up to his shoulder. For several moments he couldn’t even speak, and the world around swam in and out of focus. When he could draw breath again, he let out a howl that bespoke all the suffering that had been brought upon him over the last week, and he thought, not for the first time: Just cut the fucking thing off, and let me be done with it.

“Colt, man! It’s me!” the nude man said.

Colt, still in agony, turned to look at him. The man’s face was as black and blue as if he’d been used for batting practice, but he recognized the long hair, and the whiny voice.

“Jesus, Michael,” he said. “What are
you
doing here?”

28
‌

The Offer

M
ichael helped Colt into the living room and sat him down on the couch.

“The door was open,” he said. “So I let myself in. I didn’t know where you were, but I didn’t think you’d mind—not after you heard what I went through.”

“What
you
went through?” Colt said. “Look at me! Do I look like I give a flaming crap what you went through?”

“You are looking pretty banged up. Where’d you get the busted wing?”

“I got kidnapped. And then there was a car wreck.” “Kidnapped! What? That shit is fucked up! Is Francie all right?” “She’s fine. She wasn’t involved. It was our lovely neighbor out

in Pennsylvania. He was upset over that cemetery that you two found. I had it moved, only—there was a problem.”

“No fucking way,” said Michael. “That is so fucked up!”

“Yeah. Well put. What
did
happen to you?” Colt asked. “You look like you got attacked by a hockey team.”

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“It was a street gang,” Michael said. “See, I was sort of wander ing around, trying to figure out what to do with all that—”

“Listen, Michael,” Colt said. “Before you say another word, do me a favor and put some clothes on.”

Michael looked down at himself. “Oops,” he said.

❚ ❚ ❚

It was a drug deal gone bad, Michael explained to Colt, when he had thrown on his jeans and poncho.

“Drug deal? What drug deal?”

“I had a few pounds of pot in my bus. I’m surprised Francie didn’t tell you about it,” he said. “I thought for sure she would.”

“Francie and I are getting a divorce,” Colt said. “There’s proba bly a lot of things she hasn’t told me.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “No way!” he said. “Now
that’s
the best news I’ve heard in years.”

“Thank you,” said Colt. “Please go on.”

“Serious, bro. Nothing personal, but you guys really don’t—” “I knew what you meant,” said Colt. “Now would you please

continue?”

“Well, at first I thought I would go back to Denver and try to find the guys it belonged to.”

“The guys what belonged to?”

“All this pot I ended up with by mistake,” Michael said. “Michael. Nobody ends up with pot by mistake,” said Colt. “Yeah, well, whatever. What I’m tryin’ to tell you is that I had

all this pot I had to get rid of that didn’t belong to me. But then I thought, no way, Denver is crazy. The cops out there are probably looking for me, and they
definitely
wouldn’t understand. Plus, it’s a really long ways. So I decided to just get rid of it, like Francie told me I should. So, like, I was riding along the interstate, throw ing little bits of it out through the hole in my floor—”

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“The floor of your bus?” Colt interrupted. “You were scattering marijuana along the thruway through a hole in the floor of your bus?”

“Well, I
tried
to. Remember how I told you it was all rusted out? But it took forever. A handful at a time, you know, so no one would get suspicious, and I’m still trying to steer, y’know. It was a little on the tricky side. And by the time I got into the city I still had five bricks left. It wasn’t such a great idea. So I’m like, well, shit—I should just try and sell it. So I went up to Queens, and I found these guys on a street corner, and I asked them real casual- like if they were interested, and next thing I knew they were beat ing the shit out of me and helping themselves.” A mournful expression came over Michael’s face. “They took everything,” he said. “My dope
and
my bus. I’m lucky they didn’t kill me.”

“I’ll say,” said Colt.

“So then I needed somewhere to hole up for a while. I couldn’t even tell the cops about my bus, man, or they would have found out about the pot. It’s gone forever. And then I came here to see if you were around, because I knew you were back in the city, and I thought, I know the Coltster can’t stand me, but I was hoping you would understand and have mercy, man. You weren’t here, but when I tried the door—well, it was open. Why was that, by the way?”

“Another long story,” said Colt.

“Yeah, right. So—is Francie still mad at me?” “I didn’t know she was.”

“She threw me out,” Michael said mournfully. “She told me it was time for me to grow up.”

“Score one for Francie.”

Michael looked doubtful for a moment. Then he gave Colt a broad grin.

“Looks like we’re in the same boat!” he said. “She fired us both!” “We are
not
in the same boat,” Colt said. “We’re not even in the

same ocean.”

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“Yeah, okay, whatever. All I know is, here we are in New York, both of us all fucked up, and no Francie. You know, if she was here she’d be all like making us chicken soup and stuff.” Michael sighed nostalgically. “The universe is trying to tell us something,” he said. “That’s why we both got our asses kicked. It’s trying to say that we were on the wrong track. Francie was right about me, dude. She was right about you, too. We’re both a couple of losers.” Colt decided to let that comment slide—he didn’t have the en ergy for an argument. “Look. How long were you planning on

staying?” he asked.

“Well—I don’t know. I don’t have any money, see. Or vehicle. Matter of fact—I’m pretty much the way I was when I was born. I got nothing. Not a thing. So I was sort of hoping that maybe I could, you know, hang out here for a little bit until I get back on my feet again?”

Colt rubbed his forehead.

“That’s cool,” said Michael, getting up before he had a chance to speak. “I just thought you might need some help. But whatever. Just let me get my shoes and I’ll—”

“No, wait,” said Colt.

Michael sat down again expectantly.

“I do need help,” said Colt. “I can’t—I’m working on one arm, here. I need someone to—”

“I won’t wipe your ass,” said Michael quickly. “But I can do everything else.”

“I can wipe my own ass,” Colt said testily. “Jesus, I didn’t say I was totally helpless. But I can’t get dressed by myself. And I need someone to go shopping and get food, and do the cooking and the cleaning and all the rest of it. I was going to hire someone, a pri vate nurse or something, but as long you’re here, you might as well do it. If you want.”

“Okay,” said Michael brightly. “How does five hundred a week sound? I can—”

“How does room and board sound?” Colt said. “If you think

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I’m paying you, you’re crazy. I’ll put you up and I’ll feed you, but that’s it. At least for the first little while. After all the freeloading you’ve done, I think that’s a fair deal.”

“Right you are,” said Michael. “A fair deal it is.” He giggled. “You know, it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? I mean, here we are, you and me, stuck together, kind of like we were—”

“Don’t,” Colt said. “The irony of it is almost too great for words.”

“So, what should I do first?” “Laundry.”

“Okay. Just show me where your dirty clothes are and I’ll—” “Not mine,” Colt said. “Yours. I can smell those jeans from

here.”

“Gotcha,” said Michael.

In the morning, he decided he was going into the office. Not to work—he wasn’t ready for that yet. Just to walk in and show his face. He had to make an appearance if he was going to keep his job. Unless they’d already replaced him, that is. It was impossible to put on a suit, so he told Michael to cut a long slit in the left sleeve of one of his sweatshirts in order to fit it over his cast, and he pulled on his most respectable pair of chinos.

“So, I’ll just hang out here until you get back?” Michael said. “No. You’re coming with me,” Colt told him. “You will open

and close doors, you will pick things up for me and put them down, you will do everything that I cannot do with one hand.”

“You seriously want me to go to your office with you? With all the fat cats and capitalist pigs?”

“I’m sure you’ll find they’re not all that bad,” Colt said. “You might even learn something while you’re there.”

Michael laughed. “Yeah, right,” he said. “Capitalism 101. How to Exploit the Masses.”

“Exploitation is on the twentieth floor,” said Colt. “We’re in Trading. And trust me when I tell you that the masses are per fectly adept at exploiting themselves.”

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They took a cab to Sixth Avenue. When they got out, Michael stood and gaped at the structure of which Anchor Capital was a tenant, leaning back as the magnificent glass-and-steel wall of it faded away into nothing more than a point overhead.

“Holy shit,” he said. “You watch those clouds go by, it makes you want to fall over.”

“So keep your eyes on the ground,” said Colt, heading for the entranceway.