I smiled, thinking how odd it was that the two of us tolerated each other. We couldn’t have been more different. He was successful, together, and completely on the up-and-up. And me? I was in as much, if not more, trouble than I was in my teens. What a pair we made.

“You know, you have a name that should be in a Frank Capra movie. Jefferson Blout Goes to Washington.” I displayed the marquee in the air with my hands.

Blout laughed. “Yeah, Capra made a bunch of films about black cops.”

I took a drink and swallowed hard. “Can I ask you a question?”

Blout just shrugged. The last mouthful was his.

“It’s what, two, three o’clock in the morning. Doesn’t it bother your wife that you don’t come home?”

Blout looked away and sighed. “Jessica left me last month. So yes, I guess it did bother her.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have brought it up if—”

“It’s all right. We were married a long time, a lot of good years. I don’t have any regrets.” He was fumbling in his coat. His hand came out holding two of those jumbo cigars he smokes. “Want one?”

I was about to agree when I had an idea. “I’ll be right back.”

I got up and darted to the right where there was a small efficiency kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and smiled. I love it when hunches pay off.

“What’ve you got there?” Blout asked at my back.

I turned and showed him. “I present to you, one six-pack of the finest ten-year-old Black Label for our consuming pleasure. Warm, of course.”

I planted the six-pack on the floor between us, broke one from the ring, and gave it to Blout in exchange for the cigar. When I popped open my beer, it foamed. I took that as a good sign.

Blout was staring at his can. “Is this safe?”

“Only one way to find out.” I swigged and was surprised to discover that it tasted as crappy and watery as a new Black Label.

Blout sipped, testing. Finding it normal, he swigged away.

“What about you, Cal? Why haven’t you ever settled down? I’ve seen you with some young women that weren’t completely out of their minds.”

“Thanks,” I laughed. “The way shit comes flying at me, it’s impossible. Nobody can take a life like that, and I wouldn’t wish it on them.”

“Come on. You’re exaggerating. It can’t be that bad.”

I looked him square in the eyes. “My best friend is a fucking ghoul. It’s that bad.”

Blout stared at me for a full minute before he spoke. His voice lowered. It was serious time. “It really boggles me that you buy into all this crap.”

“When a brick lands on your head, you start believing in bricks or you get your skull bashed in.” I paused, feeling a speech coming on. “Don’t you see, Blout, nothing is true if you don’t believe, but if you do believe, really believe, you can create the impossible. The power of belief—Braaappp!—is a potent force.”