said Donnie.
“What care I about such details?” She blew dismissively out her mouth and then turned to stare at the man covered by a sheet on the bed. “Cash?”
“Of course,” said Donnie.
“This moosh, he has the money?”
“I’ve seen it.”
“You know,” she said, “for no one else would I do such a thing, but you, Donnie, are such a kushti darling. So okay. I do it. Just for you.”
“Thank you,” said Donnie.
She turned to Scrbacek. “I hope you are grateful of your friend. He came all the way my shop to bring me here because your trouble. If the cards they tell me you are not a grateful moosh, I will be very disappointed.”
“Who are you?” said Scrbacek, still clutching the sheet to his body.
“Mr. Scrbacek,” said Donnie, “I’d like you to meet the Contessa Romany.”
“Charmed,” said the lady.
“The Contessa Romany,” said Donnie, “is going to tell you how to save your life.”
14
D ONNIE G UILLEN
After the Contessa swept back out of the room, Scrbacek glanced up at the girl sitting on the bureau with the gun. “Does she have to be here while I dress?”
“Reggie insists,” said Donnie with a shrug.
“And if Reggie insists, then I guess there’s no—”
“That’s right,” said Donnie with a smile.
“Okay, then,” said Scrbacek as he searched the pile of clothes for his boxers. He slipped them on under the sheets before getting out of bed and starting with his pants. He tried to keep his swollen, purpled arm as still as possible. Even so, and even with the drugs, the pain at first was hard to bear, but the more he moved the arm, the less the pain restricted his movements.
“All these people,” said Scrbacek, gingerly pulling on his jeans. “The old woman with the beard, Squirrel, the Lady Baltimore, Regina, that girl up there on the bureau.”
Donnie looked up at her and smiled. “The Nightingale.”
“Yes. Who are they?”
“Friends. We kind of live together here. Some of us, anyway. Squirrel has a rough operating room in a house on Garfield, and Elisha has a place in the Marina District, but they all help me with my work.”
“What exactly is your work?”
“Same as before. I’ve always been good with my hands. I build stuff for people, fix stuff. Work on my projects.”
“Projects?”
“Hurry up and dress, and I’ll show you.”
“No more guns, I hope. You’re staying out of trouble, right?”
“I live in Crapstown, Mr. Scrbacek. There’s only trouble here.”
“So I’ve found.” Pause. “Thank you, Donnie. For taking me in and finding me that doctor, or whatever the hell he is. I probably would have died there on your stoop if you hadn’t answered the door.”
Donnie looked at the floor and kicked at the splintering wood. “I don’t think I’d have done too well in prison, Mr. Scrbacek. Some of the people there, man, they deserve to be there, they’re, like, dangerous. You did a good thing keeping me out.”
“I was just doing my job.”
Donnie shrugged. “Most court-appointed lawyers wouldn’t have cared like you cared, and that made all the difference. You pulled out all the stops for me. So when I saw you lying there looking half-dead on the front porch, I figured I owed you.” Donnie let out a laugh. “Man, you were a mess.”
Scrbacek nodded. “Someone is trying to kill me.”
“I know.”
“I have to get out of here, get out of Crapstown, get out of the state.”
Donnie turned to look behind him and then back at Scrbacek. “That’s probably a good idea. Especially the getting out of here part. Do you know where you’d go?”
“No idea.” Scrbacek struggled as he slipped a white T-shirt over his lame arm and then a soft white long-sleeved shirt over that, buttoning the buttons carefully. He found he could use his left hand as long as he didn’t need any strength from his arm beyond bare movement. “Thanks for the clothes.”
“Elisha cleaned what we could save, but the shirt, it was
“What care I about such details?” She blew dismissively out her mouth and then turned to stare at the man covered by a sheet on the bed. “Cash?”
“Of course,” said Donnie.
“This moosh, he has the money?”
“I’ve seen it.”
“You know,” she said, “for no one else would I do such a thing, but you, Donnie, are such a kushti darling. So okay. I do it. Just for you.”
“Thank you,” said Donnie.
She turned to Scrbacek. “I hope you are grateful of your friend. He came all the way my shop to bring me here because your trouble. If the cards they tell me you are not a grateful moosh, I will be very disappointed.”
“Who are you?” said Scrbacek, still clutching the sheet to his body.
“Mr. Scrbacek,” said Donnie, “I’d like you to meet the Contessa Romany.”
“Charmed,” said the lady.
“The Contessa Romany,” said Donnie, “is going to tell you how to save your life.”
14
D ONNIE G UILLEN
After the Contessa swept back out of the room, Scrbacek glanced up at the girl sitting on the bureau with the gun. “Does she have to be here while I dress?”
“Reggie insists,” said Donnie with a shrug.
“And if Reggie insists, then I guess there’s no—”
“That’s right,” said Donnie with a smile.
“Okay, then,” said Scrbacek as he searched the pile of clothes for his boxers. He slipped them on under the sheets before getting out of bed and starting with his pants. He tried to keep his swollen, purpled arm as still as possible. Even so, and even with the drugs, the pain at first was hard to bear, but the more he moved the arm, the less the pain restricted his movements.
“All these people,” said Scrbacek, gingerly pulling on his jeans. “The old woman with the beard, Squirrel, the Lady Baltimore, Regina, that girl up there on the bureau.”
Donnie looked up at her and smiled. “The Nightingale.”
“Yes. Who are they?”
“Friends. We kind of live together here. Some of us, anyway. Squirrel has a rough operating room in a house on Garfield, and Elisha has a place in the Marina District, but they all help me with my work.”
“What exactly is your work?”
“Same as before. I’ve always been good with my hands. I build stuff for people, fix stuff. Work on my projects.”
“Projects?”
“Hurry up and dress, and I’ll show you.”
“No more guns, I hope. You’re staying out of trouble, right?”
“I live in Crapstown, Mr. Scrbacek. There’s only trouble here.”
“So I’ve found.” Pause. “Thank you, Donnie. For taking me in and finding me that doctor, or whatever the hell he is. I probably would have died there on your stoop if you hadn’t answered the door.”
Donnie looked at the floor and kicked at the splintering wood. “I don’t think I’d have done too well in prison, Mr. Scrbacek. Some of the people there, man, they deserve to be there, they’re, like, dangerous. You did a good thing keeping me out.”
“I was just doing my job.”
Donnie shrugged. “Most court-appointed lawyers wouldn’t have cared like you cared, and that made all the difference. You pulled out all the stops for me. So when I saw you lying there looking half-dead on the front porch, I figured I owed you.” Donnie let out a laugh. “Man, you were a mess.”
Scrbacek nodded. “Someone is trying to kill me.”
“I know.”
“I have to get out of here, get out of Crapstown, get out of the state.”
Donnie turned to look behind him and then back at Scrbacek. “That’s probably a good idea. Especially the getting out of here part. Do you know where you’d go?”
“No idea.” Scrbacek struggled as he slipped a white T-shirt over his lame arm and then a soft white long-sleeved shirt over that, buttoning the buttons carefully. He found he could use his left hand as long as he didn’t need any strength from his arm beyond bare movement. “Thanks for the clothes.”
“Elisha cleaned what we could save, but the shirt, it was
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