Bad Apple by Anthony Bruno

important. The other thing is, I never eat unless I’m hungry. And it’s very rare that I’m hungry at regular mealtimes. I think you should use up what you’ve got, then fill up the tanks again. That’s how the body was meant to run. I really believe that.” Bells blew over the surface of his steaming tea, looking Tozzi in the eye.
    Tozzi was grinding his teeth. He hated this guy’s guts, and he hated the fact that the guy got to him like this. But he still wasn’t sure if Bells was trying to bust his balls with this health rap of his. Bells was about five-ten, five-eleven, average build, but he didn’t look particularly fit. Actually it was hard to tell how he was built since he always wore dark loose-fitting suits that hid his shape. The real odd thing about him was the way he moved. He wasn’t fast and he wasn’t slow, but he was always moving, always constant, like when he was walking that cat around the muffler shop. He never stopped. He even ate that way—not fast, not slow, but constant. Maybe it was the chopsticks that made Tozzi think of this, but he suddenly remembered an old tai chi master he’d seen a couple of years ago at a demonstration who moved the same way, with purpose but not deliberate. No intention. Tozzi wondered if Bells had ever had any martial arts training.
    Tozzi thought about his own training. In aikido, you react to an attack; you never initiate anything. But with that old tai chi master, it would be hard to tell what was an attack and what was just normal movement because you could never tell when he was moving away from his opponent and when he was moving toward him. It was all the same. Just like Bells. He never seemed menacing until it was too late. Tozzi couldn’t help wonderinghow he would handle him if it ever came down to a one-on-one confrontation.
    He gulped his coffee and frowned behind his cup. It was stupid to speculate about a showdown with Bells because it wasn’t going to happen. As soon as Tozzi could get away from these guys, he was going to call in to the field office and give Ivers their location so that a squad of agents could grab Bells. He wasn’t going to be anywhere near the takedown. If he was lucky, he’d be in his own bed when it happened, resting up for his black-belt test tonight.
    Bells put the fried rice carton on the dashboard and reached into the brown paper bag on the floor. He pulled out a cellophane packet with two fortune cookies inside, ripped it open, and handed one over the seat to Tozzi. “Here. You didn’t get anything to eat.”
    Tozzi took the fortune cookie warily. “Thanks.” He set his coffee down on the floor so he could break it open.
    â€œWait, Mikey, before you open it—do you know how to read these things?”
    Tozzi crossed his brows. “Whatta’ya mean?”
    â€œYou’re supposed to add ‘in bed’ to the end of your fortune. That’s how you find out what it really means. Go ’head. Try it.”
    Tozzi raised one eyebrow and looked at Freshy, who only shrugged and chewed, his mouth full. Tozzi broke open the cookie, uncurled the slip of paper, and read it out loud. “‘Your first love and last love is self-love.’”
    â€œIn bed,” Bells added, raising his eyebrows.
    Stanley nearly spit out his coffee.
    â€œI don’t get it,” Freshy said.
    Stanley struggled to talk through his coughing. “Sounds like Mikey’s got a thing for his hand.”
    â€œIn bed.” Bells sipped his tea, his eyebrows arched over the rim of the cup.
    â€œOh.” Freshy shrugged. “I still don’t get it.”
    Tozzi did and he wasn’t amused.
    Bells cracked his cookie open and examined his fortune. “‘The current year will bring you great happiness.’ In bed.” He rocked his head from side to side as he considered his fortune, but he didn’t smile. “Hmmm . . .