tom-tom-tommy, how are ya? he shoves a beer into tom's hand.
that's it, take the medicine deep into your body. good, good.
the hell it isn't! this is the best god damn neighborhood in chicago, `cause we look out for each other, and that's sayin' a lot as we approach the year of our lord two thousand.
what is lenny doing here? did you tell him you were having a party?!
i mean, i could see if he just heard the noise and wandered in, but to actually invite him into your home.  .
bullshit.
bullshit!
bullshit!
prove it.
hypnotize somebody. hypnotize vanessa.
you do it, sheila. we promise not to make you do a strip tease on the kitchen table. sheila glares at him. they must be fun to hang out with.
no.
no fuckin' way, i ain't gonna do it. tom sits forward.
that was the weirdest thing i've ever seen in my whole fuckin' life.
joey ariola woulda burned it. they laugh again. tom looks at him, stunned.
the kid who beat you up all the time when you were twelve. you told us all about him. you were cryin' and everything.
not time yet.
lighten up, tommy, you sound like your own grandfather .
that'll pop right out. use one of them plunger things. adam, say you're sorry.
there you go, he said he's sorry, whaddya want from a kid. let's go. frank gets in the truck. the other football players walk toward tom, calling for the ball. kurt damon, a great-looking seventeen year old, stares pointedly at the ball in tom's hand. tom looks at him.
that damon kid, he's gonna break your old passing records this friday.
comin' to the game?
two hundred eleven and two touchdowns. harry lets out a low whistle. tom sees what the cop is looking at so intently -- it's jake, who's playing on the sidewalk in front of their house while maggie watches. tom turns back, but as he does the police car is just pulling away.
don't get me wrong, it's great what the damon kid is doin' and everything, i mean, i'm sorry your record's gettin' broke, but, what, it held up almost ten years? tom is terribly distracted, looking back over his shoulder, still plagued with a headache.
(raising his voice over the
six eighty-three with three game.- left, he only needs to average, ti.iat, a hundred and five, hundred and six yards a game? he hits a thousand and we're talkin' major scholarships, the kid could write his own ticket. that kinda thing's good for everybody, helps the whole neighborhood. he's goin' a hell of a lot farther than i ever did. look at the quality of the tail he's already gettin'. he passed me in that department when he was about fourteen. he passes tom the bottle. this time, he takes a swig.
what can i do? nature commands me to spread my seed. i hear and obey.
please. the woman can't even step on a spider.
who?
yeah, lenny, they're gonna be terrified of you.
two one one.
two hundred eleven.
two hundred and eleven yards rushing the other night. that makes eight ninety-four with two games to play, kid needs a hundred and six, that's only fifty-three a game. he could walk through the rest of the season and hit a thousand.
i embarrass him. are there worse things that can happen to a human being?
jesus, lenny, don't use that word.
they're going to kill you, tommy. you and maggie both.
this is a decent neighborhood. on the street, two kids ride their bikes straight at each other, full tilt, screaming. at the last second, one of the kids swerves, the other taunts him with cries of "chicken!" a bird swoops over tom's head, too low, and tom flinches. he walks across the driveway, toward frank's house. the mailman waves to him, headed down the block. tom waves back. tom walks up the steps to frank's front door and knocks. a voice calls from inside. adam come in!
he might make it. might not. sheila's over there now, i'm headed back.
what are you talking about?
hang on a second.
what the hell is goin' on around here? tom goes to the trap door and lowers himself halfway through. frank follows.
how did you find this?
you don't know it was adam and kurt.
but there's nothing to.  you're talking like a nut, that's what people will say. this is just a body, it doesn't prove anything.
i mean.
i mean, what were we supposed to do? tom stops. frank the kids come to us, she's already dead, the damage is done, there's nothin' gonna bring her back. but those boys, they've got everything ahead of them. frank lets his jacket drop to the floor, revealing his right hand. he's holding the 38 with the carved white handle. he turns and looks at tom.
who do you think?
get out of here.
get out! get out! tom starts up the ladder.
they were gonna kill you, tommy. you and maggie both. frank turns and walks to the front door. he opens it, walks out onto the porch, and sits down on the top step, facing the street. tom looks at maggie. they're both in shock, can hardly speak.
cold-blooded murder. i can't let something like that happen. not here. he looks at tom. frank this is a decent neighborhood. a few tentative faces gather across the street, staring at tom's house, wondering what the hell. a siren wails in the distance.