Another freezing night and here I am, outside yet again.
I light another smoke.
The back door of Spironi’s finally swings open and the one I want to see comes out. He doesn’t notice me at first until I blow some smoke his way and he jumps.
‘Who’s there?’
He’s carrying a garbage bag.
‘Chuck that away, kid. I have an offer for you.’
But he backs toward the door so I step where he can see me.
His face relaxes. ‘Didn’t see your face in the dark, Mr—’
‘Chuck it away, kid.’
He tosses it in a dumpster and gives me his attention.
‘Young bloke like you needs a few dollars. Right?’
‘Sure, but—’
‘Just listen.’ I toss the cigarette onto the filthy ground. ‘You might get someone asking about a certain disagreement you overheard.’
His mouth drops open.
I pull a wad of notes from a pocket and start peeling some off.
‘Thing is. That was a private conversation, and it needs to remain private. You need to forget anything you think you heard.’
The kid’s eyes don’t leave my hands. Probably counting. There’s a thousand there. Not bad just for not saying something.
‘Heard what?’
‘Good boy.’ I curl his notes into a cylinder and slide them into his apron pocket. ‘Keep that up and you’ll get another grand.’
‘When.’
‘Never know when I might drop in. Come around to check up on you.’
He has the money in his hand, counting rapidly.
‘Mind you, one word out of place and that’ll be paying for your funeral.’
The kid shoves the cash into his pocket and almost trips over his own feet getting back inside. He’s got my message loud and clear.