“It’s a good profession, boy,” Hogg said. “Like the man says, ain’t nothin’ you can do in this world today—go to the pictures, buy some food, or even throw away the package it come in—that don’t bring somebody closer to hurt. At least this way you know that you ain’t makin’ your money by makin’ them pictures or packages. And when you’re hurtin’ someone, you’re hurtin’ ’em. You look ’em right in the eye and do it. You can’t very well fuck somebody without lookin’ ’em in the eye, unless—” Hogg chuckled—“you do it doggy-style. Even so, you ain’t droppin’ no bombs on five hundred people you ain’t never seen. You ain’t signin’ no papers that’s gonna put a thousand people who ain’t never heard your name out of a house and a job. You ain’t enjoyin’ no benefits that come down the pike three years after you finished with hurtin’ folks you didn’t even know existed, much less you was hurtin’ them. And you can look at any TV newscast or listen to any radio report, even if it’s about somethin’ you just done—and I had that happen to me three times now—and know you got more sense of duty than they do!”

“Goddamn, Hogg,” the nigger said, “whyn’t you quit makin’ speeches to that boy? He got other things on his mind.”

The wop laughed. “Or in his hand.”

Which I guess was true. Denny was still beating. Actually, though, you didn’t have no way to tell whether he was listening or not.

“Besides, Hogg,” the nigger said, “he already said he was comin’—didn’t you, Denny?”

“Huh?” Denny said, looking up again. “Yeah. Sure. If I don’t have to drive none, I wanna come. But nobody ever taught me. I usually have to hitchhike.”

“Hey,” the wop said, “you gonna pull the fucker off if you go on like—”

“Shut up,” Hogg said. “You comin’ with us, nigger?”

“You takin’ him?” The nigger nodded toward me.

“You just tell me whether you comin’ with us or not.”

The wop said, “Denny don’t do nothin’ but play with—”

“Shut up,” Hogg said again. “Come on, Nigg. Yes or no?”

The nigger had his fists in his pockets. Even so I could see the outline of his dick.

Hogg’s hand slipped down over my face so I couldn’t see much of the nigger’s. The nigger must have smiled and nodded, though (I thought about that crazy scar twisting a little) from the way Hogg relaxed and said, “Good.” Hogg pushed his third and middle fingers into my mouth. I sucked on them and licked the salty nubs, ran my tongue among the nail rim, bitten all back from the crowns. Between Hogg’s legs I felt something move under my hand: his pants got pulled forward by his stiffening dick.