He's doing his best to come across sincere, looking me in the eyes, his pupils pinned out from whatever kind of bennies he got his hands on tonight.

— How much money you got on you, Phil?

— Well, uh.

He pulls the bills I gave him out of his breast pocket and counts them.

— Looks like I got about fifty here.

— What other money?

He pats at his pockets, gives me a hopeless look and shrugs his shoulders. I squat down and put my face close to his.

— You might be close to getting off the hook here, Phil. I suggest that now is not the time to start fucking with me.

He nods and starts digging into his pockets, turning them inside out. A handful of change, his hair goop, a pack of Dentyne, a baggie full of about twenty little black capsules, and a small wad of cash all spill out onto his lap. I grab the cash and give it a quick count. Hundred and eighty bucks. I hold the bills in front of his face.

— I'm giving this to Billy, toward what you owe him.

— Sure, sure, I mean, that's what I had it on me for was ta give ta Billy for what I owe him.

I stand up.

— Yeah, right. Do what you want with the fifty, that's for the phone call. But pay Billy off before Monday.

— Yeah, before Monday, no sweat, Joe.

I bend over, pick Philip's comb up off the floor and toss it at him.

— Fix your hair, Philip, it looks like crap.

Walking past the bar I get Billy's attention and slip him the buck eighty. He counts it and smiles. -S'more than I thought he'd cough up.

— Yeah. He'll come through with the rest by Monday. He don't, give me a call.