Only I didn’t take it. It was sitting right there and I left it. Maybe because Frank had put it there, maybe he knew what he was doing. Or maybe I was afraid. I don’t know. I don’t know why I didn’t take it when I had the chance. I should have. If I had, everything from then forward would have been different. You can’t start thinking like that though. If you start thinking about one thing you could change in your life, or would have done different, you might as well start thinking about all of it. I would have never got mixed up with Froehmer, would have never had him take care of my problems, I would have never started stealing, but then it wouldn’t be my life and I would have never met Frank.

—

I left empty-handed, a hunch confirmed, and went back to the hotel and sat on the bed and tried to think it out, at least a couple of steps ahead of what I was doing. I wasn’t good at this part. I texted Frank. “Everything ok. Everything. Ok?” I didn’t expect to get an answer and I didn’t. Frank would turn up when he decided he could. I figured his superstition got the better of him. He was waiting for the gears to mesh again before coming back. He had made everything right, had put everything back in place, and now needed things to reboot. That’s what I figured anyway. One hunch had paid off; I was hoping for another.

15

THE BREAK

FRANK HAD LEFT ONCE BEFORE, BUT NOT FOR LONG. It was early in our partnership, maybe the tenth or twentieth job we did together. We were sitting outside the target house, eating Chinese food when I handed Frank a fortune cookie.

“Don’t open it yet,” he told me, but it was too late.

“Then don’t read it,” he said.

I didn’t take him seriously.

“It’s a good one,” I told him.

“I don’t want to know,” he said and put his cookie up on the dash so I could see. He started a scan of the house, looking at the network, any security system, and his usual stuff.

“Fuck,” he said, “we can’t do this.”

“What’s going on?”

“I know this guy,” he said. “He was in treatment.”

“You’re not supposed to ID the guy,” I told him. He didn’t say anything. “Maybe it’s a different guy.”

“It’s not a different guy. It’s because you opened the cookie.”

I laughed at him.

“I’m serious,” he said.

“No, you’re not.”

“Maybe we should be.”

“Maybe we should just do the job.”

“Maybe,” Frank said. “But maybe not. Not with me, anyway. Not this one.”