“Listen to me, Nick-O,” Hank said, softly. “I’m not sayin’ you have to do somethin’ with it. Just wave it in front of the mark’s face and I’ll do all the hard part.”

“I can’t—”

“Listen, for chrissakes,” Hank said. “I’m the one that’s doin’ all the hard stuff. I’m the one that’s gonna bait him, bring him to the spot. Man, all you hafta do is wave the gun. You can even wear a mask, Nick-O. I wouldn’t make you do anything dangerous.”

“I just can’t do it,” Noam said.

“Stop saying that!” Hank shouted. “You’re making me pissed off!”

Noam stopped protesting. He felt his limbs shake. And the tears come back. “I can’t take this anymore, Hank. I wanna go home—”

“You what?” It came out a whisper.

“I want to go home,” Noam said. “Just let me go, I won’t say anything about you—”

“I didn’t hear you right, did I?” Hank said.

Noam didn’t answer.

“’Cause if you said you want to go home, ’cause if you said that, know what I have to say to you?”

Noam remained silent.

“I’m gonna say I’m pissed off. And you know what I do when I’m pissed off?”

“Stop threatening me,” Noam managed to say.

“What’d you say?” Hank asked, incredulously.

“I said stop threatening me,” Noam repeated.

Hank bit his lip. “Fine. You want to go…go.”

Noam didn’t move.

“Go on, hotshot…Go.” He pushed Noam by his shoulder. “Go…go, go, go on. Dafuck outta here before I cut your balls off.”

Noam didn’t move.

Hank said, “See how fuckin’ far you’ll get without me. What’ll you do for food, hotshot? Where ya gonna sleep tonight? You think you can just call home and all your piddlyshit problems will be solved?”

He shoved Noam.

“That what you think?”

Another shove. Harder. It hurt his chest.

“Huh?” Hank yelled out. “Huh?”

Hank slammed him against the wall. Noam slid down, holding his head, crumbling into a pile of loose bones.