Home didn’t help. No matter how high I got I couldn’t get the smell of chlorine out of my nose or the knot out of my stomach. When I first started social work I had counseled a young couple, and in the course of a conversation about sex I asked the woman something about what she enjoyed. She told me that she liked to insert hairbrush handles. I sat there dumbfounded. Later the supervisor suggested that I not ask questions if I wasn’t prepared for the answers.

I wished I had just lost Fran after her doctor’s appointment. And I fucking well wished my friend hadn’t gotten me involved to begin with. I felt like calling and telling him, but odds were he’d ask why, and I didn’t feel like letting him know that his wife had nightmares because she was either diseased or pregnant.

It was too early to go to sleep. Too early to watch TV. Too early to do much of anything.

I got more dope from the stash and sat at the kitchen table. The gun didn’t feel comfortable anymore so off it went. I spent the next forty-five minutes furiously smoking and cleaning the weapon. I didn’t even bother to turn on the radio, just sat there and worked up a sweat. Finished, I reholstered it and hung the whole damn thing over the chair. I changed into shorts, got down on the floor, and started to work out. My lungs needed a breather so I stopped and smoked a cigarette. After the smoke I felt drained so I popped a Valium, showered, and lay down. I don’t know how long I slept or what time it was; I only knew it was dark when I woke to the banging at my door.

For a wild moment I thought it was Simon coming to kill me for what I had seen. I stayed tucked and groggy in my bed hoping for the commotion to stop. Only the hammering continued. Finally a strange voice began hollering my name. I didn’t want to move, but it would be only a matter of moments before Mrs. Sullivan’s light began to flash. I padded over to the door, calling “Wait a minute,” and had just unlocked it when it was pushed hard into me and knocked me backwards.

I stood there confused as two large men filled the entrance. One was a fat white man with silver hair and a bulbous red-veined nose that looked as if it had been pickled in boilermakers. The other was black, with hard eyes and a body built by Gold’s Gym. Both wore suits and looked like they just walked out of a barber shop—Lenny Bruce’s tell on cops. I got sweaty thinking about my stash.

“What do you guys want?” It wasn’t snappy, but neither was I.

The Nose growled something unintelligible. I hoped his friend had brought a leash.

“Do either of you speak English?”

The black man smiled though his eyes never softened. A part of me began to hope they were cops.

The black turned to his friend. “We have a smartass here.”

The fat man’s jowls began to shake and his mouth opened in what seemed to pass for a smile. He took a step forward. I tried to figure out how to get to my gun.

“Wait, Connolly, if you start now he won’t be able to talk.”

“What are you doing here? Do you have a warrant?”

“Listen to the man, Connolly, he wants to know if we have a warrant. I told you he was smart. He guessed we were police.”

My admirer walked over to me and slapped me hard across the face. I kept my head still but the blow brought tears to my eyes.

“You like our warrant?”

I didn’t say anything. I hoped they found that agreeable. Connolly began to wander around the room while his partner stood and stared at me.

“We have some questions.”

I kept quiet.

“I hope I didn’t knock your tongue out. I’d hate to feed you to Connolly here.” Body-by-Gold never took his eyes off me.

“What do you want?” It wasn’t easy to talk, my cheek and jaw still throbbed.

“We want to know about your sudden interest in 290 Commonwealth.”

“What interest?”

Connolly started to walk toward me, but the black guy moved between us. Just as I began to relax, he slammed me across the other side of my face.

“I just did you another favor.” He nodded toward Connolly. “Now we can do this hard or we can do it easy?”

Something told me that easy wasn’t going to be easy. “I don’t know what you want. That’s my shrink’s building.”

This time he let the dog through. I picked myself off the floor after he hit my stomach.

“Shamus, you are being foolish. It’s really a simple thing here. What does a shrink in the building have to do with a bad stakeout?”

Any doubts about their being police vanished in the face of calling me shamus. I hadn’t spent enough time watching 290 for someone to have identified me without the help of a government computer.

“Who hired you?”

“No one hired me. I felt fucked up and thought about seeing her. Just didn’t want to when I got there.”

“And I didn’t want to do this when I got here.” He nodded toward the Nose and I thought about running, only there was nowhere to go. When I opened my eyes I was on the floor again with a black boot headed in my direction. It seemed to be moving in slow motion and I figured I’d have no trouble avoiding it, but I was wrong. All I could do was inch my face out of the way. My neck didn’t appreciate it.

“That’s enough,” the hard body ordered.

Connolly didn’t think so. He bent over and grabbed me by the front of the shirt, pulled me up and held me while he punched me in the belly with a hand that looked as big as his foot.

“Damn, Connolly, I can’t take you anywhere. Let him go.”

When he did I crumpled to the floor and tried to find a way to breathe.

“Now look Jacobs, I guess you’ve watched too much TV and think that you’re supposed to protect your client’s identity at all costs. But I don’t think you were at that building for your head. Now I don’t like too much blood so I’m going to be a nice guy and suggest that, if you have a shrink appointment, you do it in the office. If I find out you’re around that place, and don’t have an appointment, I’m going to let Connolly have some real fun. You see how he likes to have fun, don’t you?”

I looked up from the floor to see an open toothy gap under the white man’s nose, his eyes lit with pleasure. The black guy was shaking his head at me with pity.

“We don’t see too many of your type, Jacobs, degree boy with no smarts.”

“It’s Jacob, without the s.”

This time the black man lifted me up. “Jacob, without the s. I’ll remember. And you remember this.”

He held me with one hand and pummeled me with the rock-hard other. I tried to move away but my body wouldn’t respond to my begging. I closed my eyes and waited for the beating to stop. He finally let go and I slumped back to the floor. I kept my eyes closed and hoped they’d think I passed out.

“Now you play ‘possum all you like, Jacobs, but listen good. Stay away from 290. Go to your shrink and go home. And tell whoever hired you that you’re off the case.”

I opened my eyes a slit and watched as four blurry feet walked out the door. At least, I thought it was the door. I could see a small pool of blood gather by my face and somehow knowing it was mine threw my stomach into overdrive and I began to dry-heave. I heard someone whisper my name and I was afraid they had changed their minds.

But the voice sounded familiar, so I forced myself to look. All I could see was a pair of purple Converse high-tops. I looked up to see Charles standing by the door in a plaid three-quarter-length nightshirt, looking horrified. The clash of green plaid and purple kept my stomach rolling but I managed not to throw up.

“God, Matthew, I thought you were dead.”

I couldn’t talk. Someone had stuffed a grapefruit in my mouth.

“I’m going to call an ambulance.”

I shook my head and brought tears to my eyes.

“Why not, Matthew?” Charles whispered.

I didn’t know why not so I tried to get up. Charles scurried over and tried to help but I was too much dead weight. He set me lightly back down on the floor and went into the bathroom and emerged with a washcloth. He sat down on the floor next to me, cradled my head, and began to gently wipe my face. I couldn’t stomach the plaid so I kept my eyes closed.

“I don’t know why you won’t let me call an ambulance. You might have internal bleeding. They may have broken your ribs.”

I shook my head again.

“I saw them, Matthew. They just trashed you.”

His shock was comforting. He was comforting. He opened my shirt and we both looked at angry red splotches on my belly and chest.

“This is outrageous. Two . . . two animals. Just trying to hurt you. I don’t understand it at all!”

His voice was getting shrill. I closed my eyes and prayed for the room to stop spinning.

“Damn it, Matthew, you can’t just lie there. At least let me call the police?”

I opened my eyes and stared into his face to stop the whirlies. I tried to speak around the grapefruit.

“Charles, they were the police.”