"How's it, Ed? You going on early, uh?"
"Yeah, Wino—ah—Jonesy. Mind if I call you Jonesy?" He didn't. "What's with you? Been washing a dish for the Mig?"
He nodded. Some of the upper-level boys from the row worked off and on at odd jobs like that. It didn't make Jones unique, but it made him stand out a little.
"Me and Stanley, we like a little change in our pockets. Right, Stanley?"
He looked down and a little to one side, just as though he were asking agreement from someone. Only there wasn't anyone there. There wasn't anyone in sight on the block but Jones and me.
But Jones smiled and nodded warmly at the short vacancy beside him and then looked back at me. "Stanley here, he come by to meet me after work. Mr. Mig, he let me fix us a bite of breakfast when I finish up the night."
I looked again at where Stanley was supposed to be standing and then, blankly, back at Jones. He shrugged almost unnoticeably and, I thought, barely shook his head.
"Well-l—" he said, "I expect me and Stanley better drift back on down to the Yard before some fuzz comes along and fans us down."
"Yeah?" I said. "Yeah. So long, Jonesy—Stanley."