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"Whaddaya say, Payne?" Jesus replied.
Both our smiles are forced, Matt thought. He doesn't like me, for no good reason that I can think of, and I am not especially fond of him. We are on our good behavior because Charley likes both of us, and we both like Charley.
Matthews and McFadden were dressed much like Matt. Charley was wearing a zippered nylon jacket and blue jeans, and Matthews was wearing blue jeans and a sweatshirt with the legend PROPERTY OF THE SING-SING ATHLETIC DEPARTMENT. A loose-fitting upper garment of some sort is required to conceal revolvers.
They both had their feet up on chairs, and were watching the dancers on the floor, at least a half dozen of whom appeared to have their slacks and blouses painted on.
"We have a new rule," Jack said. "People who win a lot of money gambling have to buy the beer."
"Right," McFadden said.
They're both plastered. I think Jack is here because he wants to be, not because the FBI told him to hang around the cops with his eyes and ears open.
"Does that apply to guys who can tell certain females that their boyfriends spent Saturday night ogling the broads in the FOP bar?"
"You have a point, sir," Jack said. "I will buy the beer."
"Sit down," Matt said. "Ortlieb's, right? What are you drinking, Hay-zus?"
Martinez picked up a glass that almost certainly held straight 7UP.
"I'm okay. Thanks."
Matt crossed the room to the bar and picked up three bottles of Ortlieb's beer and a bottle of 7UP and returned to the table.
When he passed the 7UP to Jesus, Martinez snapped, "I told you I was okay."
"I'm the last of the big spenders, all right?" Matt countered, and then his annoyance overwhelmed him. "Drink it. Maybe it'll help you grow."
Martinez was instantly to his feet.
"I'm big enough to whip your ass anytime, hotshot."
"Don't fuck with me, Martinez, I've had a bad day."
"Shut up, Hay-zus," Charley said. "Shut up and sit down."
"Fuck him!" Martinez snarled. "Fucking hotshot!"
"Hey!" an authoritative voice called from somewhere in the large, dark, low-ceilinged room. "Watch the goddamned language. There's ladies in here, for Christ's sake."
Martinez turned on his heel and went quickly out the door. Matt could hear his shoes on the concrete stairs. They made a sort of metallic ringing sound.
"What was that all about?" Matthews asked.
"You shouldn't have made that crack about him growing, Matt," Charley said.
"All he had to do was say 'thank you' for the goddamn 7UP. Or say nothing. He didn't have to bite my ass. I don't have to put up with his shit. Or yours, either."
"Oh, boy," Matthews said. "I'm going to get to see a real barroom brawl."
"He never liked you for openers," Charley said, "and then you passed the exam, and he didn't."
"What am I supposed to do, apologize for passing the exam?"
"Just show a little consideration for his feelings is all," Charley said, almost plaintively.
Matt laughed and sat down.
