“You takin’ anything for the pain?”

“It doesn’t hurt too badly.”

“You mean, it hurts like shit, but you’re not complainin’.”

“The pain’s more of a nuisance than anything else. How’s the family, Randy?”

“You mean Mom and Dad? They’re okay. Roxanne’s a pain in the ass. Same old shit. She spends it faster than I’m makin’ it. Wondering why I’m not making as much as half my compadres. Never dawned on her that they might be on the take. All she sees is the cars, the swimming pools—” Randy knocked his head. “What am I goin’ on about? I must still be nervous. Your call to Mom really had me worried. You really doing okay?”

“I’m really doing okay. You need money, Randy? Don’t be shy.”

Randy made a sour face. “I didn’t come here to borrow money, Peter.”

“I’m not saying you did. I just asked a simple question.”

“I’m okay.” But his voice was tight.

“I’ll send you something,” Decker said.

“Nah, don’t do that. You got a family to support now, Sergeant Bro. Two little boys. You spend it on them.”

“It’s not a problem,” Decker said. “What do you need? Couple hundred tide you over?”

Randy shrugged.

“You need more?”

“No,” Randy said. “No, no, no. Couple hundred’s fine.” He smiled sheepishly. “I won’t even bother to say I’ll pay you back.”

“Good.”

Randy’s eyes began to water. He took his brother’s face in his hands. “I love you, Bro.” Salty streaks ran down his cheeks and dissolved into his beard. “You take care of yourself. Don’t fuckin’ do anything like this again.”

Decker took his brother’s hands and clasped them firmly in his own. “I’m not planning on it.”

Randy stood up, wiped his eyes. He pointed his finger at Decker and said, “That’s real good. I’ll see you at the house.”

“See you,” Decker said.

“When you coming down?”

“A major Jewish holiday starts tomorrow—”

“That the one where you eat the crackers?” Randy asked.

Decker smiled. “That’s Passover. This is the one where you fast for twenty-four hours.”

“But you don’t have to do that in your condition, right?”

“Right.”

“You’re in no condition to fast.”

“I don’t intend to fast,” Decker said. “But I’m going to do a lot of praying, I can tell you that much.”

“Nothing like a bullet to make you a religious man.”

“So what’s your excuse?”

“Me?” Randy said. “I don’t go to church, but I pray a lot. Every time a deal’s about to go down, I’m praying like the Pope at Christmas Mass.”

Decker laughed, then tightened with pain.

“So when you coming down to F-L-A?” Randy said. “In a week?”

“More like two, maybe three days.”

“You need to rest,” Randy said.