“Heard he died today. Wanted to give my condolences.”
I dared one more look to my left, and sure enough, Ben Parker seemed very concerned at the news.
“Shit happens,” Parker Senior replied. “Then you die.”
“That’s a bleak outlook.”
He sniffed a final time and looked back down at his puzzle. I guess once you hit nine thousand years old, you’ve got exactly no fucks left to give. But Ben seemed to have plenty to spare, what with eventually taking over his dad’s shop, I imagined. The news that one of his frequent flyers with high-quality goods would no longer be supplying a hefty lining for his wallet had to come as a shock.
“Well, thanks for your time,” I said, and Parker ignored me in response.
I walked back out of the shop, crossed the street, and waited around the corner of a bodega for Max. He came out close to ten minutes later, when I was beginning to legit worry and considered running back in for him.
“Max!” I hissed, waving him over.
He hurried toward me, letting out a breath. “That was close. I was haggling for the guitar and offered way more money than I actually have, but he didn’t budge on the price.” He laughed and put his hands on his hips. “Debt averted!”
“You went to college,” I reminded.
“Furtherdebt averted!”
I rolled my eyes. “Did anything happen after I left?”
“Not exactly. But that guy was pretty chill before you entered. After, he was in a rush to make me buy or get out. Definitely acting a little weird.” He glanced over his shoulder at the pawnshop before turning back to me. “What’s the plan now, boss?”
“He got awfully concerned the minute I said Dick-Mark was dead. I think I should go to Brooklyn.”
“We.”
“You’ve done enough, Max.”
He waved his finger in my face. “I’ve got Calvin on speed dial.”
“What? I don’t even have him on speed dial. Why are you speed-dialing my boyfriend?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out!”
I shook my head and rubbed my temple. “Jesus Christ on a crutch. Now I know how Calvin feels when I tag along.”
I NEVERwent to Brooklyn.
I had no reason to go to Brooklyn.
I hated Brooklyn.
Okay, I didn’t hate it… but I did hate the subway. And I hated having to ride the subway to Brooklyn to hunt down stolen museum pieces from a guy found floating dead in a pool full of pennies and candy wrappers, who was responsible for brutally murdering another guy four years ago.
Even if said other guy also stole priceless artifacts and probably wasn’t all that nice himself.
Add to the fact that it was Saturday and trains had alternate schedules, weren’t running due to maintenance and repairs, and just seemed hell-bent on fucking the general population, I really didn’t like having to go to Brooklyn.
But I digress.
“Maybe you could move out here,” Max said, sitting beside me on the train as we rumbled over the Williamsburg Bridge. “It’s nice.”
“No.”
“Manhattan spoils you.”
