“That’s somebody who’s into this shit pretty heavy,” he said. “Somebody who’s scared to run out. And I didn’t know about it. That gets to me, Matt. You read that note?”

The note was on the vanity, anchored with a bottle of Norell cologne. I nudged the bottle aside with the back of my hand and carried the note over to the window. She’d written it in brown ink on beige notepaper and I wanted to read it in decent light.

I read:

Kim, you were lucky. You found someone to do it for you, I have to do it myself.

If I had the guts I would use the window. I could change my mind halfway down and laugh the rest of the way. But I haven’t got the guts and the razor blade didn’t work.

I hope I took enough this time.

It’s no use. The good times are all used up. Chance, I’m sorry. You showed me good times but they’re gone. The crowds went home in the eighth inning. All the cheering stopped. Nobody’s even keeping score anymore.

There’s no way off the merry-go-round. She grabbed the brass ring and it turned her finger green.

Nobody’s going to buy me emeralds. Nobody’s going to give me babies. Nobody’s going to save my life.

I’m sick of smiling. I’m tired of trying to catch up and catch on. All the good times are gone.

I looked out the window across the Hudson at the Jersey skyline. Sunny had lived and died on the thirty-second floor of a high-rise apartment complex called Lincoln View Gardens, though I hadn’t seen any trace of garden beyond the potted palms in the lobby.

“That’s Lincoln Center down there,” Chance said.

I nodded.

“I should have put Mary Lou here. She likes concerts, she could just walk over. Thing is, she used to live on the West Side. So I wanted to move her to the East Side. You want to do that, you know. Make a big change in their lives right away.”

I didn’t much care about the philosophy of pimping. I said, “She do this before?”

“Kill herself?”

“Try to. She wrote ‘I hope I took enough this time.’ Was there a time she didn’t take enough?”

“Not since I’ve known her. And that’s a couple years.”

“What does she mean when she says the razor blade didn’t work?”

“I don’t know.”

I went to her, examined the wrist of the arm stretched out above her head. There was a clearly perceptible horizontal scar. I found an identical scar on her other wrist. I stood up, read the note again.

“What happens now, man?”