When I was fifteen, me and my best friend Bobby Ray started out sellin’ weed and doing a little number runnin’. But Andre was a drug dealer. As far as he was concerned, gambling and prostitution were just sidelines. That all changed when Andre was murdered. I took over his gambling operations and got out of the drug business.

“All I’m sayin’ is that whackin’ DEA agents is bad business. But you gotta handle shit the way you handle shit. You killed them.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a killer.”

“I fuckin’ know that. I was there when you made your bones, Mikey,” Angelo said.

“No you weren’t. You were there for number two. I was there when you made your bones, Angee. Nickie Nemecek. Two shots: One to the chest; one to the dome.”

“Make sure he’s gone,” Angelo said and raised his glass. “And I was too there when you made your bones.”

“No, Angee, I couldn’t do it ’cause of the kid. Remember?”

Angelo took another swallow and I guess he thought about it. “You know what? You’re right. His little girl came out the house and you backed off.”

“I knew you’d remember.”

“You did the right thing. I couldn’ta shot him in front of his kid either.”

“What did you say?”

“What, are you drunk? I said you fuckin’ did the right thing; Shootin’ him in front of his kid wouldn’ta been right.”

I got up and punched Angee in the face. He fell off his chair and hit the floor hard.

“What the fuck, Mikey!”

I helped him get up, sat down, and poured us both another drink.

“What the fuck you hit me for?” Angelo asked and shot his drink.

“You woulda done the same shit?” I shot mine and poured us another.