Fresh Kills by Reggie Nadelson Page B

Thanks,” I said. “You like music, Billy?”
    â€œCourse. How come you’re asking?”
    â€œI was just wondering.”
    â€œI like it a lot, all kinds of stuff, I even like to listen to classical music, like Ellie plays.” Elena, his older half sister, Genia’s daughter by her first husband, played the flute with an orchestra in Seattle. “I looked at some of your CDs,” Billy said. “Was that OK?”
    â€œSure,” I said. Come on. We have to stop by my loft. You remember? The place I lived before Max and I got married. We’re going to stay there, you and me, so I need you to get packed.”
    â€œI guess Maxine doesn’t want me here,” said Billy and I wondered if he’d been listening in to our conversation and tried to remember if I had called Max on my cell or on the land line. Land line, I thought. Had there been a click? Stop it, I thought to myself. Stop.
    I didn’t lie to him either.
    â€œShe doesn’t know you yet.”
    â€œIt’s OK, Artie. I understand,” he said. “I’d like to stay at your loft. I always loved it there when I was little.”
    â€œWe’ll be there together.”
    â€œYou mean you and me?”
    â€œYes. Billy?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDid you go out at all last night?”
    â€œNo way.” He said, stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t go out without telling you. I got up and you weren’t around, so I had a cigarette, I’m really sorry I did that, Artie, I’m so totally sorry, and I went back to bed. I know you have like a life, I want that for you, and I just figured you went out to get a drink, or something. But maybe you could let me know next time, ’cause I was sort of worried, which is dumb.”
    I felt bad. I had accused him of something I’d done, and Isaid, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I gestured at the newspapers piled on the couch. “You were reading?”
    â€œYou don’t believe me, or what?” His tone was soft, a little disappointed, but not hostile. “About going out?”
    â€œI believe you. So what do you read first in the papers?”
    â€œWhen I’m away, when I’m down there, you know, in the place in Florida, I like reading stories about New York. Sometimes I can’t remember myself when I was younger and living at home, I can’t feel it, and reading stuff about New York helps me.”
    â€œI feel like that sometimes, the thing about remembering myself in the past.”
    â€œYou do?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œDo you think they felt anything?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe people in the plane?” he said.
    â€œProbably not.”
    â€œI wish I knew how they felt.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œTo understand more. Who are we having breakfast with?”
    â€œAfter we drop your stuff at my loft, we’re going over to a friend’s, Tolya Sverdloff, who has a place in the Meat Packing District. He’s pretty crazy and he was a famous rock star in the Soviet Union. Also, his Russian’s a lot better than mine, so you could practice with him if you want.”
    â€œI’ll get my stuff.”
    Billy went into the bedroom and came back quickly with his duffel bag and fishing gear. We left the apartment together, and I got my car and we rode over to Walker Street where my loft was, left his things, then headed for Tolya’s.
    â€œSo, listen. I have to check something out today,” I said. “It’ll only take me a couple of hours. You think you couldmaybe hang out with Tolya? Then I could pick you up and we could go fishing.”
    â€œCan’t I go with you?”
    â€œNot this time,” I said.
    â€œYou have any cigarettes left?”
    â€œYou’re worse than me,” said Billy and started laughing, which made me laugh, too, and he got out his pack of cigarettes. There was only one left.
    For the