he's alive.
pit bull . must have lost somebody some money . the dog stares at them and they stare at the dog .
they just left him here to die. they threw him out the window and kept driving. a ship's horn sounds from the hudson.
they're used to waiting. monty squats near the dog and inspects him. from this angle it is clear that the pit bull has been badly abused. one ear has been chewed to mince; his hide is scored with cigarette burns; flies crawl in his bloodied fur.
i think maybe his hip -- the dog pounces, jaws snapping,; lunging for monty's face. monty stumbles backwards. the dog, too badly injured to continue the attack, remains in his crouch, growling. monty sits on the pavement, shaking his head.
christ. he's got some bite left.
look what they did to him. used him for a fucking ashtray. monty stands and dusts his palms on the seat of his pants.
let's get him in the trunk.
there's a vet emergency room on the east side. i like this guy.
this is a good dog. i can see it in his eyes. he's a tough little bastard.
we wait much longer, he'll be dead.
that was a mercy thing. but he's not ready to go yet.
distrac t him.
i got him, didn't i? surprised you how .-- quick i was, huh? monty checks for traffic and pulls back onto the highway.
that's the dog's blood.
go away, simon.
~, put that away.
i'm over, man. simon points at a line of scabs that run along his throat.
you need to leave me alone, friend. i told you, i'm out of business. doyle sniffs simon's boots, then raises his head, snout climbing the man's leg. simon dances a half-step, trying to keep away from the pit bull without provoking him.
you're not listening to me. i got touched. game over. simon blinks, tries to jlaugh, looks behind him,,,looks down at doyle, rubs his nose with the back of his hand.
you got no left.
what?
no, i don't think so.
look at what a little punk i was. the administrator bends forward and squints at the photo.
, ha ha. starting point guard. started on varsity from my first game, freshman year. i still hold the all-time assist record.
- we* weire undefeated that" year.
until i got kicked off the team. after that, they fell apart. do you know where jakob elinsky is?
thanks.
marvin ray?
you're sure?
i think the one with the bell y button' s checking me out. jakob turns and sees mary staring at them. he quickly turns back to monty , wh o is smiling at mary. jako b grab s the door knob.
tel l frank we'll meet up after midnight . he leads doyle away and jakob closes the door , the n turns to look at his silent class. the bell rings and all the students grab their bags . ,
why you waiting down here?
of course it was a beautiful day. he holds the door open for her and doyle.
what?
what am i thinking about? he leans forward and unclips a hand-tooled leather holster from the back of his belt. a "b" for brogan is tooled into the leather, stylized like the old brooklyn dodgers' logo. a .40 caliber automatic, squat and black, rests in the holster. monty drops the holster onto the coffee table and runs his fingers over the b. naturelle stares at the gun.
i'm thinking i want to be like that girl from the x-men, the one who can walk through walls. he's still tracing the holster's "b " with his fingertips.
and if i can't do that, if i can't figure out how to walk through walls, i'm thinking one shot through the roof of the mouth, boom, problem solved. naturelle hits him on the shoulder.
you think i'm joking?
uncle blue's throwing me a party at velvet.
that's a nasty habit you have. she leans forward and kisses him on the lips.
not right now. she caresses his jaw but monty is distant, his mind j elsewhere. ^--^
you were born in america, you lived in america your whole life, you've been to puerto rico twice, for vacation. what is that? i should get an irish flag tattooed on my ass cause my grandparents are from there?
between you and me the kids will be just right. loud pounding on the apartment door startles them. they stare at each other. doyle barks from the other room. naturelle gets out of the tub, pulls on a bathrobe, and goes to answer the door. monty waits, listening. he knows who it is. he stares out the bathroom's open window.
close the door, baby. she closes the door.
yeah. brzowski flips open a badge and hands a paper to monty, who looks it over.
yeah.
easy, doyle.
get it over with.
i got to meet my dad for dinner. i'll call you in a couple hours. he kisses her quickly and turns to go, but then stops and looks at her.
could you wear the silver dress tonight?
i want to remember you in that dress . he walks out of the apartment, leaving naturelle alone in the dark living room.
what are you doing here?
i'm having the time of my life.
yeah, three other people already told me . he's really dying to say goodbye, huh? kostya releases monty's arm and nods sadly.
what does he want?
i'll be there. i'm bringing naturelle and some friends.
oh , jesus. she didn't dime me out, man .
why would she?
what if she is?
 you're insane. she wouldn't do that.
what's down there? the boys point and monty looks. we follow his gaze. we can't see anything at first, but then, as if our eyes were adjusting to the dark, we begin to pick out movement. a gang of large rats crawls through the tracks, nosing through balled-up paper bags, candy wrappers and orange peels.
watch this. he selects a quarter and -- with a free throw motion as smooth as hersey hawkins's-- tosses it into the empty cup, a ten- foot shot. the big rat, startled, hustles into the alcove below the lip of the platform. the boys, impressed, whistle.
here -- he offers his palmful of change.
take a shot at it. the boys look at each other for a moment before each takes a coin. they stare up at monty. he nods at them.
let's see what you got. boy 1 takes careful aim at the coffee cup. his shot is way off target, though -- it pings off the tile on the far side of the tunnel.
your release is too high. look -- he mimics the boy's shooting motion.
baseball?
no? what do you play?
soccer? all right, forget it. your turn, little man . boy 2 toes the edge of the yellow danger line and practices his motion . when he finally releases the coin, it flashes through the air and drops neatly into the cup.
thataboy! he raises his fist and the boy taps knuckles, grinning
make a wish.
yeah, well i'm sure i'll see you soon --
yeah, i hope so, definitely. good seeing you. monty makes his escape and trey watches him go.
ah , come on, dad.
sal? the guy's been out of the picture for twenty years.
the guy's three hundred years old. he sits around playing gin rummy all day. what's he going to do for me?
dad, would you please? i'll be all right. just, please, don't get involved in this . okay?
jesus. enough.
dad? i fucked up. okay? what else can i tell you? i fucked up.
you fucking touch her --
you're lying to me .
can i ask you a question?
when you've got your dick up his ass, is he still talking all the time? cunningham and brzowski sit back.
cause it seems to me he never shuts up, and i'm just wondering, is that annoying, you're fucking the guy up the ass and he never shuts up?
yeah, all right.
let me abk you "a question.
what do you think of naturelle?
do you trust her?
do you think i can trust her?
i've been hearing weird things. some people are saying she dimed me out
i don't know. maybe the feds got to her somehow. blackmailed her.
everything's gotten so strange, dad. i wake up some mornings and it takes me a minute to remember who i am, you know? where i'm going. mr. brogan looks down at his plate and nods.
most of the people i'm with, i look at them and i think, these are my friends? the only ones i trust these days are you and the guys i grew up with -- frank, jake.
and naturelle.  jesus. i can't get it out of my head.
it matters to me . monty checks his watch.
i should get going.
the morning? what for? i'm taking a bus up there.
no thanks. i'd rather say goodbye here. mr . brogan pulls a small photograph from his wallet and hands it to his son.
-?-. don't, dad. not now. l'')
not for you it's not. he raps on the window. a sales clerk walks over to the window, peers out and sees monty. he goes to the door, unlocks it, holds it open for naturelle and monty.
how you doing?
don't worry about that. it's your birthday. the clerk emerges from the back room. . "'.'jaillt ^m clerk vs" "~ we got some of the new stuff in from italy this morning. you want to take a look?
nope.
nah.
urn. .  i don't -- naturelle wheels around and monty has to jump back to avoid getting gutted by the carving knife.
oh, shit. shit, i'm sorry. i completely-- naturelle stabs the air to emphasize her point.
i meant to.y i just --
could you put the knife away?
okay -- ^
you been here long?
uncle blue's throwing me a party at velvet. we ought to head over there.
huh? nah, it's a nickname. his real name's like ankaybusim or something, but no one can pronounce it . monty surveys the sawdust-covered floor, the country rtiusic- piay-ing--j-u-keboxy--the-glass jars of bugs_,_.  _.
what is this place?
fuck sunday. he drinks. slattery and jakob hesitate and then follow suit .
the whole city came out to say goodbye .
wait a second.
nice coat , you bastard. ( ;
i gotta tell you, buddy, it looks better on me . khari skeptically fingers the sleeve of monty's coat .
just trying not to think, you know? what's with all the kids?
i've got my people waiting. you want me to bring them through here?
thanks, man .
bus leaves at nine a.m.
jake, what are you doing? monty has circled back and now motions for jakob to hurry.
i've got someone holding the door for us .
it's past your bedtime, isn't it? mary clutches jakob's arm and rests her head on his chest.
we went to school together.
they didn't think so, either.
why not? we're already in.
what do you think of mr . elinsky?
do us a favor, d'annunzio. don't talk too much . mary grins, tears off her fake fur coat, and hides it underneath a sofa. she wears a white tank-top with tweety bird emblazoned on the front. tweety bird looks scared.
-"" ' champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends. everyone takes a sip except for mary, who guzzles hers in one giant gulp, then belches and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. jakob stares at her, horrified.
do what you want to do .
she's cute, buddy. she talks too much but she's cute.
so what, so you ran into her at a dance club. you haven't done anything wrong, have you? not yet.
you want this girl, don't you?
he needs a home. and he loves you.
poor doyle, he'll live in a small apartment. hey, he's a tough dog. he'll survive.
she's moving in with her mom. woman hates him. and doyle hates frank. and my dad's allergic.
cristal. they went all out for me , huh? i'm lucky to work for such caring people.
listen, this is important to me.  doyle is important to me . you understand that?
doyle's the toughest guy i know. he was lying there off the highway when i found him, waiting to die. he knew he was going to die. and he didn't make a sound. the best thing i ever did, my whole life, was rescue that black little son-of-a-bitch. every day he's had since then is because of me . every time he runs through the park, that's me . every bone he chews -- because of me . i saved him.
i was hoping you'd say that. i really was.
what do you think, jake's girl's looking pretty good, huh?
i should have shot you, you fat russian fuck. kostya ambles over to the sofa, wagging his finger.
i'm really not in the mood for that .
the last girl you picked out special had three teeth.
why is it funny i should say that?
wait, when you say, "funny you should say that," it's like saying, "that reminds me of this other funny story."
i don't think so. naturelle's dancing downstairs.
you have someone nice for my friends?
come down there with me . i need to talk to you.
no, that's cool. i just want to ask you something.
you've got to stay here. who's gonna look after mary d'agostino when she gets back?
where we going, the white room?
i'll meet you down there. i need to talk with frank about something. kostya leans closer to monty and speaks quietly.
they knock out your teeth the first night. you know why? so you can give them head all night long and they don't have to worry about biting.
how the fuck do you know it's not gonna happen? two broad-shouldered hoodlums in expensive suits saunter down the catwalk. they stop to embrace monty.
hey, fellas.
yeah.
believe me , frank, i've studied this. i've looked at the options. seven years, man . seven years .
i hate green bee r on st . paddy's day.
but it's a nice thought, man . i don't see it happening, bu t it's a nice thought.
no .
but you won't be there tomorrow. cute little white boy like me , how long am i gonna last? i need a favor from you.
not here . stick around, okay? we'll go uptown in a couple hours. monty points to the dancers below. we can see mar y dancing wildly on a platform.
our friend jake has picked himself a winner.
hey! the girls keep swinging.
could i bum a smoke?
a smoke.
yeah, you look familiar. naturelle has stopped swinging now. lindsay jumps off he r swing.
you know wh o i am? who am i?
so you're natalie?
really? naturelle. i like that. naturelle. so what's your friend's problem?
yeah, well, lots of people got thrown out of campbell-sawyer. how come you didn't follow blondie to practice?
i never really got the hang of these things.
it's my fault. you're very beautiful. he hands her the bottle again and she takes a long sip.
yeah. i'm a star.
she's very nice.
i said so, didn't i?
it's all right. thanks for setting it up.
yes .
you don't need to do this. i never said a word to anyone. you don't need to bring him into it. i
i understand exactly what you mean.
no.
i never said a word to anyone. they came after me to get to you. i know it, you know it. they don't care about me . but i never said a word. uncle blue makes a gesture and the zakharovs, frighteningly fast, spring forward, slamming kostya to the floor and holding their pistols to his skull.
i don't want it.
i know how to use it.
you were my friend. f=*5 kostya ^ monty -- monty closes his eyes. when he opens his eyes, he flicks the safety back on. he stands. he tosses the gun to uncle blue, who catches it and frowns.
what?
it's getting late.
i've got an hour left. listen -- naturelle waits as monty stares down at the bed. ^j
i was wrong. about you, about -- she runs her hand through his hair.
it matters to me. i don't want you to hate me.
jesus, nat, i blew it. i really blew it. he stands.
there's one last thing i gotta do. naturelle doesn't like the sound of this remark. she leans forward and takes his wrist.
let me take one more walk with doyle. slattery and jakob nod. both are exhausted.
it would be good to work a tugboat. be out on the river all day. he turns to face jakob.
so what do you think? you ready for mr. doyle?
i need a favor, frank.
i'm not going in there like this. the minute they get a look at me, i'm gone. monty straightens up and looks directly into slattery's eyes.
make me ugly. slattery looks dumbfounded. he turns to glance at jakob, who is equally confused. monty clears the snow off the nearest bench, unbuttons his camel's hair coat, and lays it down.
you just said you'd do anything. so this is what i need.
you think i deserve it, don't you? slattery holds his hands up and backs away.
i think you can. i think you want to, a little bit. i think you've wanted to for years.
you want to. come on, frank, you're afraid?
what are you afraid of, frank? that i'll hit back? you're afraid i'll hit back? that would be embarrassing, huh, big tough guy like you getting his ass kicked?
who the fuck is talking to you?
this works out pretty well for you, doesn't it? you're gonna take good care of naturelle while i'm gone?
you think i don't see you staring at her all the time? you've wanted to fuck her for years. he shoves slattery hard. slattery's eyes narrow for a moment, but he shakes his head.
it's okay .
no . he staggers toward them. doyle is mewling now, stomping his paws, confused. monty bends down unsteadily and scratches behind the dog's ear.
be a good boy. he walks over to slattery, wh o sits in the snow, sobbing. monty leans over and kisses his forehead.
i'm sorry. slattery rocks back and forth, hands over his face, his forehead marked with blood. monty turns to jakob and touches his shoulder.
i'm sorry, jake.
take care of my dog.
i don't want you to visit. his voice is rough and slurred, his split lip impeding his diction. she opens a bottle of rubbing alcohol, wets a cotton ball, presses the cottpn lightly against the gash in his forehead. -- he shudders, his fingers gripping the edges of the sofa cushions.
i don't want you to see me up there. naturelle struggles mightily to keep herself together. she continues cleaning his wounds.
why'd you stay with me? you should have left a long time ago.
what time is it?
no. i need to go. he pushes himself upright. naturelle comes in from the kitchen and hands him a glass of water. he takes it and drinks.
no. monty goes to his bedroom.
i'll say goodbye here. he approaches his father but mr. brogan shakes his head.
subway.
i'll take a taxi.
i don't want it like this. let me walk away, dad. it's easier that way.
no hospitals.
i want you to be happy.
will you d that for me ?
okay?
i'm sorry for everything.
fo r everything .
i don't know, dad. a bunch of them.
you were right, dad. it wasn't naturelle. mr. brogan shifts into drive.
i always thought i'd make you proud of me . m r . brogan turns to look at monty and then turns back to the road.
i pictured it, you know? i pictured you sitting at the bar with all your friends, poker night, and you'd say, "did i tell you what my boy's been up to?" and your friends would be like, "goddamnit, _ brogan,,_all you ever talk about-is your ,,.  _, __,, _ boy."
left turn to where?
dad.