Payback Is Forever by Nick Kolakowski

Author:Nick Kolakowski [Kolakowski, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shotgun Honey Books
Published: 2022-03-24T11:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

At his apartment, he reloaded the .25 and cleaned the .38. He spent another few minutes re-checking the locks on the windows. How had someone gotten in here to switch out his bullets?

Not for the first time, he wondered whether to follow the advice given to him by other professionals in the game. Move out of the city, they told him. Find an isolated house where you can see anyone coming from a long way off.

Except he couldn’t leave New York City. What was the point of working as a professional thief if you couldn’t enjoy the fruits of your labor? He didn’t endure the stress and violence just to sit in a farmhouse afterwards.

He found Bob in front of The Strand, smoking a cigarette. “Your timing’s amazing,” Bob said. “I just started my lunch break.”

“I’ll buy you a sandwich,” Miller said.

“So generous. You get any luck with that address?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it.” Miller pointed down 12th, toward University. “There’s a good place down that way, Billie’s, you know it?”

“Let’s go.” As they crossed the street, Bob added, “That guy shouting gibberish that we saw? He came back after you left. Bought a stack of Medieval poetry books. I’m guessing he’s a professor or something.”

“You can never tell in this town.”

“That’s the truth. Everyone’s a little mad.” Bob waved an arm at the honking cars, the tides of people, the steam blasting from a sidewalk grating as if the whole city was ready to blow sky-high. “I’ve been having trouble lately, myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You remember Cherbourg?”

“I try not to.”

“I was pinned down behind some rubble, trying to snipe this German in a church tower. I didn’t see him fast enough, and he got off a shot. It hit maybe three, four inches from my head. If the wind had been a little different…” He swallowed. “I keep thinking that maybe I died that day, and all this is a dream. Mine or someone else’s.”

“I’d say you’re embracing the artist’s life a little too hard.”

“Maybe. But I’m fine, ultimately. I just have thoughts.”

Miller debated telling Bob about his nightmare with the clown and the rooftop. What would be the point? After everything they saw in the war, they all had broken toys in their heads.

Billie’s was hot, crowded, and narrow. If you leaned back while sitting at the long white-laminate counter, your spine touched the wall. Burgers, eggs, and grilled-cheese sandwiches smoked on the griddle, hazing the air. The cook, his paper cap cocked on his hair and an unfiltered cigarette between his teeth, stared off into space as he flipped the food.

Miller and Bob settled into the two stools furthest from the front door and the griddle. “The double-decker burger with extra cheese looks good,” Bob said, pointing at the menu. “You okay with me ordering that?”

“Sure. You could stand to gain some weight.”

“You are a terrible date.”

“Your mother didn’t think so.”

The cook called out, “You comedians know what you want?” His cigarette did an Olympic-caliber job of staying on his bobbing lip as he talked.

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