“You sure you don’t?”
“Why should I? You’re old enough to look out for yourself.”
“I’m glad you know that,” Frank said. He straightened his shoulders, trying to look cold and hard. But his lips were twitching, and he went on blinking. He took another conclusive drag at the cigarette and said, “See you later.”
Kerrigan watched him as he walked away, crossing the cobbled surface of Vernon Street and heading toward the taproom on the corner of Third and Vernon. The name of the place was Dugan’s Den and it was the only dive in the neighborhood that sold legitimate liquor. All the other joints were in the back rooms of wooden shacks or in the cellars of tenements. Most of the alcohol sold along Vernon Street was homemade and the authorities had long ago given up trying to catch all the bootleggers. Every once in a while there’d be a raid, but it didn’t mean anything. They never kept them locked up for long. Just long enough to let them know that payoffs had to be made on time. So a few days later they’d be back in business at the same old stand.
He stood there at the edge of the alleyway and watched the scarecrow figure of his brother moving toward the murky windows of Dugan’s Den. When the fifty cents was used up, Frank would hang around Dugan’s and beg for drinks, or maybe he’d steal some loose change off the bar and make tracks for the nearest establishment where twenty cents would bring him a water glass filled with rotgut. But there was no point in worrying about Frank.
There was no point in even thinking about Frank. It was a damn shame about Frank, but then, it was a damn shame about a lot of people.
Approaching voices interrupted his thoughts. He looked up and saw the two men. He recognized Mooney, the sign painter. The other man was a construction laborer named Nick Andros. They came up smiling and saying hello, and he nodded amiably. They were men of his own age and he’d known them all his life.
“What’s doing?” Nick greeted him.
“Nothing special.”
“Looking for action?” Nick asked. He was short and very fat and had a beak of a nose. Totally bald, his polished skull shone in the glow from the street lamps and moonlight.