Charlie Huston
Caught Stealing
Thanks to Maura Teitelbaum at Abrams Artists for believing in this book and hustling it to anyone and everyone. To SimonLipskar of Writers House and MarkTavani, my editor at Ballantine, for making the deal to get me published and, more importantly, for their hard work and support as the book was knocked into shape. Thanks also to Robyn Starr and Simone Elliot for the key roles they played in getting this book published. This book would not have been published without all of these people, but my greatest thanks are reserved for my friend, Johnny Lancaster, without whom none of them would ever have seen it. Thanks, J., you’re a good friend.
Above all, thank you Mom and Dad for a life of unconditional love and support.I love you more than I can ever say.
And thank you, Virginia. Wife, I am nothing without you.
For Scotty AToughguy Who Loved His MomAnd Dad
September 22-28, 2000
Eight Regular Season Games Remaining
My feet hurt. The nightmare still in my head, I walk across the cold wood floor, shuffling my feet in the light grit. I’m half-drunk and I have to pee. I’m not sure which woke me, the piss or the nightmare.
My john is just a bit smaller than the average port-o-potty. I sit on the pot and rest my forehead against the opposite wall. I have a pee hard-on and if I try to take a leak standing up, I’ll end up hosing the whole can. I know this from experience. Plus my feet still hurt.
It takes a while. By the time I finish I’m just about asleep again. I get up, flush, and shuffle back to bed. On the way, a last bit of piss dribbles onto my thigh. I pick up a dirty sock from the floor, wipe the urine off and toss the sock in a corner.