– Now, fucking now!

– OK, man, OK.

I start to step out of the unit, then go back in. Most of the cash is in the bag, but some is still scattered on the floor. I grab a pack of twenties and a pack of hundreds and follow Russ out.

We stand by the elevator, waiting.

– What’s up, man?

– I have to make a call.

– What about the, like?Mmmm. What about the money, man?

The elevator is taking forever. I push the button again, leaning on it hard, and hear the bell ringing loud down the shaft.

– Man, what about the money?

I jam the button down and squeeze my eyes tight. What is taking so fucking long?

– MAN, LIKE, WHAT ABOUT THE MMMMONEY?

I take my hand off the button and put it on Russ’s throat and slam him back into the wall. His eyes spin around and the concrete scrapes part of the scab from his wound and it starts to bleed again.

– Fuck, man. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I squeeze his neck and he stops cursing and starts gasping.

– There is no money, Russ. There is no fucking money! My friends are fucking dead, they’re fucking dead! There is no fucking money because my friends are dead because you gave me your fucking cat and now there is no fucking money!

His face is going from red to purple. I let him go. He slides down the wall to the floor and sits there gasping and holding his throat while I lean my forehead against the wall.

– Fuck, Hank. Fuck.

– Yeah, fuck.

We are quiet for a moment,then he slowly climbs back to his feet.

– Hey, Hank?

– Yeah.

– Where.Mmmm. Where is Bud, anyway?

I take my forehead from the wall and open my eyes.

– Roman has him.

– Shit.

– Yeah. Russ?

– Yeah?

– You’re bleeding again. Put your hat back on.

He puts the hat on, I push the button again, and the elevator doors open. The operator is standing there.

– Get the fuck off that button, man. I’m here.

On the way down, he takes our passes. I tell him we may be back later, but he says we’ll have to get new ones then. When we get to the ground floor, I trot right over to the pay phone and pick up the handset before I notice the littleOUT OF ORDER sign taped to the wall next to it.

It’s a typical day for New York pay phones. We work our way east, trying to find one that works. At Eighth Avenue, I pick up my fifth phone and get a dial tone this time, but when I try to punch in the number none of the buttons produce a tone of their own. I slam the handset against the phone over and over until the earpiece snaps off and dangles by a couple wires. I’m searching for the next one and Russ grabs my shoulder and points at the electronics store across the street. I nod and we cross over.

I pay for the phone itself with cash and open the service account with one of Russ’s credit cards. When he sees that I have his wallet, he starts to say something but stopshimself before it can get out. The sales guy keeps offering me this and that. To hurry it along I tell him to give me deluxe everything and never mind the cost. It takes about twenty minutes in all and I end up with one of those phones where the antenna is angled away from your head so you don’t get tumors from the signal.

Back on the street, I drag Russ to a quiet doorway off the avenue and make my call.

It’s Saturday. They’re both home.

– Hi, Mom.

– Henry! Oh, God, Henry! Oh, God! Oh, God!

– Mom.

– Henry. Oh, my God, Henry.

– Mom!Mom, I’m OK, Mom. I’m. Listen to me, I’m OK.

– Henry, We’re so, just so. People called, and the news, we saw the news, we saw the bar. Oh, Henry, the police and all those people.

– Mom, it’s OK, I’m OK.

– We’ve been so, so scared, Henry. Oh, God.

She cries and can’t get any more words out. I hear the phone being fumbled around and my dad comes on the line.

– Henry?

– Hey, Pop.

– Jesus, Hank,are you all right?

– Pop, oh,Pop.

– What’s going on, Hank? Thank God you’re OK, but we just need to know.

– I know, Dad.

– Oh, son. Jesus, I’m glad to hear your voice.

– Dad. I’m in some trouble here, Dad.

– What is it? What do you need us to do?

– Dad,it’s big trouble.

– The police called, we’re… They want to know where you are.

– Big trouble, Dad.

– Tell us.

– Dad, I can’t, but I was there, at the bar and the police, Dad, the police think I did it.

– What?

– Dad, they think I did it, but I didn’t and I needed to call to tell you I was OK and that I didn’t do that. I would never do that, Dad, I would never kill people. But they think I did.

– Why, what the hell is going on?

– I just, Dad, I just fell into some trouble.

– Well, let’s get you out.

– It’s, uh, it’s not that kind of trouble, Pop, and I need you and Mom to just be ready, because I’m not sure how I’m gonna work it all out.

– Ready for what?

– I may, I may need to go somewhere. I don’t know, but I may,it’s big trouble and I may need to go away and I don’t know.

I stop. I can see them standing next to the kitchencounter, my dad with the phone held away from his ear so my mom can listen, leaning against each other.

– What do you need us to do, Hank?

– Just, Dad, I just need you to know I didn’t do it. These people, they did it and, oh, fuck, they, they killed Yvonne, too, Dad.

– Jesus.

– And, Dad, I’m trying to do the right thing, Dad. I need you guys to know I didn’t hurt anybody, no matter what you hear.

– I know, Hank, I believe you.

– Thanks,Pop.

We both go silent for a moment.

– Hank, what about the police?

– Just don’t lie to them. If they ask, tell them you talked to me and tell them what I said, just don’t lie.

– Sure.

Russ is leaning in the doorway, trying not to look at me, but I know he can hear everything I’m saying.

– I got to go, Dad.

– Well, you better say good-bye to your mom first.

– Yeah. I love you, Dad.

– I love you, too, son.

He passes the phone to my mom.

– You getall that, Mom?

– Oh, Henry, how could anyone think you’d do something like that? How could they?

– I just. It’s just a mess, Mom, that’s all.

– I love you, Henry.

– I love you, Mom.

– Besafe, OK?

– I will and I’ll call very soon, just, just as soon as I can. OK?

– Besure you do. Don’t say you’re going to call and forget. You know I hate that.

– I know.

– We love you so much.

– I love you guys, too, Mom.

– Becareful.

– I will, Mom, I’ll be careful.

– OK. Good-bye, Henry.

– Good-bye, Mom.

The line is silent except for her breathing and I know she can’t hang up, so I take the phone from my ear and push the littleEND button and the light on the liquid crystal display goes dark.

At the funeral, Rich’s parents had slumped against each other, rocking back and forth. They were alone. They had no other children.Only Rich. And I’d killed him. They didn’t blame me. They didn’t have to. I blamed myself.

I picture my parents at my own funeral: alone, inconsolable.

I will not die. I will not die for money, or even for another man’s life.

I look at Russ and watch him stare at something fascinating on the ground.

– I’m gonna give up the money, Russ. I’m gonna give up the money and I’m gonna give you up, too.

He tilts his head up and looks me in the eye.

– That, like, sounds about right.

At a DuaneReade, I grab one of thoseprepacked first-aid kits and a couple Ace bandages. My stuff is still in Roman’s car. Russ gets a carton of Camel Lights. At a bodega, we fill two bags with fruit, snacks, cold cuts and soda. Russ wants a six-pack and I don’t argue. We walk a couple blocks to 23rd Street and check into the Chelsea Hotel. It may be hip now, but it’s still a flop. The desk clerk is so jaded that we don’t raise an eyebrow even when I pay with cash.