No Sleep till Wonderland Read Online Free PDF Page B

do besides bouncing?” I stress the word do like it’s a cipher to my secret code. Not that I’m speaking in secrets, but I am trying to learn a few.
    “Eh, he’s a small-timer. Really small-time, sells some stuff on the side, to kids at the bar mostly.”
    “Did you get this bag of jelly beans from him?”
    “No, Mark, I didn’t.”
    We don’t talk, just share looks that we should probably just keep to ourselves. I’m getting tired again. Other people are such hard work.
    He says, “There are plenty of small-timers in Southie who sell this stuff, you know. He’s not the only one.”
    “So I’ve heard.” I take out one of my own cigarettes and put it to work. I don’t know what to think or how to think. There should be a manual or a training film. Our words are forming complicated crossing circuits in my head. I need to regroup. I need a nap. I do think he’s telling the truth about the amphetamine conversation that I don’t remember. The stuff about Desoxyn and the side effects, particularly the diarrhea, has the ugly ring of my truth. The Eddie connection, though, I don’t know.
    Gus isn’t in the client chair anymore. He’s standing at the side of my desk, tugging gently on my sleeve. I must’ve gone out for a bit, and he waited. Don’t know if that counts for or against him.
    “Hey, Mark.” He waits until I move my arm and adjust in my seat, then he adds, “I understand everything you’re saying. But I don’t know what else to tell you. I didn’t invite you out to set this up. There was nothing to set up. I promise.”
    I don’t ask, Why did you take me out? I want to know the answer so desperately my teeth ache, but I won’t ask. I’m not that needy. I say, “All right, I’ll do the job.” I am that needy. I don’t say it aloud because I’ve already made my neediness quite apparent. “Write down the details for me.”
    Gus slaps me on the shoulder. My shoulder is going to hit back eventually. “Thanks, Mark. You’re a lifesaver.” Gus brightens considerably. The eclipse of my mistrust has passed. He’s practically dancing in place as he pulls a folded check out of his pocket and tosses it on my desk. It lands like a betrayal.
    “Not necessary. I’m not a charity.”
    “Stop it, Mark. Take it. You’re doing work for me. Like I said, you’ll be helping me and Ekat out, big-time.”
    I unfold the check. Five hundred bucks.
    He says, “Is it enough? If it isn’t, I—”
    “It’s plenty.” I fold the check and throw it at his chest. A strong throw.
    Gus tosses it back. “I’m not leaving here with this check, Mark. I mean it.”
    He wins. Again. I tell him, “I’ll be at her bar tomorrow night.”
    “Great!” Gus claps his hands, then shakes one of mine and says, “All right, I’m out of here. Call me tomorrow night.” Still standing, but swaying side to side, he writes down his cell number and the other details I’ll need for tomorrow night.
    “Thanks again, Mark. I’ll talk to you soon.” He backs out of my office, pointing at me like everyone should be looking here, at me, hiding behind my desk, the not-so-incredible shrinking man in his shrinking office, same as it ever was.
    When the door shuts, I give the check my hairy eyeball. I might cash it, or I might lose it. I open my top drawer and put the check inside, wedge it under a cigarette lighter shaped like a handgun. It was a gag gift from my late best friend George, the one who died the night of the van accident. I don’t want to think about that now, so I won’t.
    Instead, I think about turning on the computer and checking e-mail, but I decide to call it a day. My days usually end early anyway. The bag of amphetamines, almost forgot about the little fellas. They’re still on my desk. A bag of promises. A bag of threats. I don’t know which. Probably both. I pick up the amphetamines and tuck them inside my suit jacket. They make a lump on my chest.
    Maybe I trust Gus. Maybe I don’t. I really want