“It’s a cinch you’ll stay longer than that,” Nick said. “You know you can’t swim.”
“Well, I’ll float.” Mooney released his arm from Nick’s grasp. He continued toward the door. At the door he turned and looked at Nick and Kerrigan. “You coming with me?”
Nick sighed. “I better be there when you jump in. You’ll need someone to pull you out.” He went back to the bar and gulped the rest of his beer. Then he looked at Kerrigan. “You coming?”
Kerrigan wasn’t listening, and Nick repeated it, and then Nick saw that Kerrigan had his mind on something else. He saw what Kerrigan was looking at in the mirror. Nick’s face was expressionless as he watched Kerrigan staring at the mirror that showed the man at the table on the other side of the room. Mooney had already made an exit, and after some moments Nick went to the door and opened it and walked out.
Dugan was dozing again, his head down and his arms folded on his chest as he stood behind the bar and hummed a squeaky tune. The white-haired gin-drinker was gazing tenderly at the few drops remaining in the glass. The other drinkers were bent over the bar and looking at nothing in particular. Then the door of the men’s room opened and Frank came out and saw Kerrigan and walked toward him, saying, “What are you doing here?”
Kerrigan took his gaze away from the mirror. He looked at Frank.
“You never come to this place,” Frank said. The corner of his mouth went up and came down and went up again. “Why’d you come here tonight? You don’t hafta put any tracers on me. I know how to take care of myself. What’s your point, anyway? Were you worried how I’d spend your fifty cents?”
“I came here to drink a glass of beer,” Kerrigan said.
“Then why don’t you drink it?”
Kerrigan lifted the glass to his lips and took a long drink. He put the glass down and Frank was still standing there, breathing hard, the mouth still moving in up-and-down spasms. Frank’s eyes were shiny and he was having difficulty standing still.