A Friend Is a Gift You Give Yourself by William Boyle

Author:William Boyle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2018-12-24T05:00:00+00:00

WOLFSTEIN

Wolfstein and Mo are passing the wine back and forth, chain-smoking cigarettes. Lucia is snuggled up against Rena, both of them passed out from exhaustion, the briefcase held tight between Lucia’s legs. She looks like a real little kid now, even with the way she’s been acting. Fifteen’s tough. Especially when your world gets turned upside down.

The wine is cheap stuff, not quite bum wine but not far off. Wolfstein unscrews the cap and takes another swig. “I’ve gotta clear my head,” she says to Mo.

“This will help, I promise.”

“I can’t believe what we saw back there. I can’t believe any of it. A chase, too.”

“Freaked you out bad, huh?”

“Mob wife.” Wolfstein tilts a thumb at Rena. “I don’t know if she ever saw someone get shot before. Maybe she saw a lot of other people get shot. But she shouldn’t have it happen to her daughter right in front of her. That fucking Bobby. And the other guy, what he did. My god.”

“No shit, she’s a mob wife?” Mo asks in a whisper, swatting Wolfstein’s leg. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I mean, she was. Mob widow, more accurately.”

“That’s what this is all about?”

“Part of it, anyway.”

“Jesus Christ, Wolfie.”

Rena opens her eyes. “I’m not really asleep,” she says.

“I’m sorry,” Wolfstein says.

“It’s fine. I understand.”

Rena straightens out against the wall, adjusting Lucia’s head on her shoulder while simultaneously stretching and yawning. “She looks so peaceful when she’s sleeping,” Rena says.

“She’s a tough kid,” Wolfstein says. “It’s good to be tough.”

“What you were talking about, all those years, I never did see somebody get shot. I found Vic, like I said.” Rena turns to Mo. “Vic was my husband. He never ever let anything happen in front of me. I heard of some things, sure. Hard to keep totally removed from that. Some rat got cut up, buried in cement. I don’t know, that’s different.”

“Your daughter,” Mo says. “I’m so sorry.”

Rena nods into her chest, looking down. “We were, what’s the word? Exiled from each other. Not exiled. Disconnected? I can’t think of the word.” She pauses. “Estranged, is what I mean. Doesn’t make it hurt less. I just . . . I hardly knew her anymore.”

“Me and Wolfie, we never had kids, thank Christ.” Mo shakes her head. “That’s not an appropriate thing to say. I’m sorry. I’ve been drinking for days.”

“It’s okay. None of this seems real right now.”

Wolfstein can’t imagine what Rena’s going through. She really can’t. How torn up and confused she must be. She wants to keep her talking, though. You disappear too far into your own head after something like this, there might be no coming back. You start seeing replays. So Wolfstein turns the conversation away from Adrienne. “I tell you me and Mo knew some mob guys out in Los Angeles? Few guys involved in the industry. This one, Lenny Olivieri, I really liked him. Class act.”

“Vic was a class act.”

“I’m sure. Lenny, he’d always bring me bread from my favorite bakery. Flowers every now and again.

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