Nothing personal-it’s just that he was a drunk. Or I guess the polite word is alcoholic. The Broker insisted Jerry was a “gentleman drinker,” which was his way of saying the boozing did not seem to have an impact on Jerry’s work. I didn’t like it. I have never cared for drunks, and never been a heavy drinker myself, and I didn’t like having my future in the hands of an alky.

All Jerry knew, however, was that after a handful of successful jobs together, the Broker had split us up, and assigned us new partners. I’d gone on to work with a guy named Boyd, who had his own problems, but that’s another story. I had no idea who Jerry had teamed up with.

Well, maybe not no idea…

“Are you out of the business, Jerry?”

“Not hardly,” he said, followed by a sigh. His Scotch had come. He sipped it. “I wish to hell I could get out. I mean, it’s been a long run. Hell of a ride. But someday it’s got to catch up with you.”

“I hear that.”

He made a sound that mingled a grunt with a chuckle. “Made a small fortune, these ten years or so. If I had invested instead of throwing it away on three fuckin’ wives, and six fuckin’ kids…shit. Child support’s a bitch.”

“So you’re not going to take out your wallet, and show the family photos?”

“Fuck them. Two of those brats I’m not even sure are mine.”

“Shame. Long as you’ve been at it, you could have socked a lot away by now.”

“Tell me about it.” The white smile flashed. “What the hell? Easy come, easy go. And anyway, my new wife isn’t like those other bitches. We got so much in common, it’s ridiculous.”

So she was a drunk, too.

“I always wondered,” I said, and summoned a nostalgic smile, “whatever happened to the guys I worked with, after the Broker bought it.”

“Yeah. I wonder who killed the old bastard?”

You’re looking at him.

“I wonder. Without him, how did you stay in the business? I mean, Broker kept us cut off from clients. We were in limbo.”