“Actually, better make it thirty-five grand, what with the vigorish, and all.”

“You expect me to give you thirty-five thousand dollars?” Butch asked incredulously.

“Not give, loan. I’m good for it.”

“And just how are you good for it?”

Curly shrugged. “You know, I get ideas.”

“You must be out of your fucking mind.”

Curly took him by the lapels and lifted him to his tiptoes. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to a person, Butch. Now, apologize.”

“I’m sorry, I apologize.”

Curly lowered him onto his heels. He went to the liquor cabinet and found it bare. “Where’s that great scotch?”

“She took it with her. I can’t afford to stock up.”

Curly found a Yellow Pages and flipped through. “There you are—a liquor store that delivers, and it’s just around the corner. Order some of that Talisker, the single malt.”

“I don’t have enough cash to do that.”

“Butch, I know you well enough to know that you have a credit card. I mean, you’re a career guy, now, aren’t you?”

Curly made himself comfortable in an armchair. “Tell you what, give me forty grand right now, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

“Now it’s forty grand?”

“I think that’s a bargain, considering how much trouble I can be when I don’t get what I want.”

“Look, I spent a lot of mine, too. I had to fill out my wardrobe, for a start. I have to look good in my work.”

“Okay with me, but I know you’ve squirreled away at least the fifty grand I need. Get it up.”

“What I’ve got left is invested. You think I keep it in a shoe box around the house?”

“I don’t care if it’s in a shoe box or, more likely, in a safe-deposit box, which is where I’d keep it. Let’s go to your bank right now.”

“The bank closed at five o’clock.”

“But that’s where the cash is, right?”

“Curly, I’m not giving you any money. Now get out right now.”

“Or what? You’re going to kill me? You don’t have the guts. Beat me up? You don’t have the muscle. Call the cops? You’d go to jail, too. Are you beginning to get the picture?”

Butch was beginning to get the picture. “Listen, I can give you ten grand—that’s all I’ve got, I swear. I’ll give you a check right now, and you can take it to the bank tomorrow morning.”

“Give me the check.”

Butch found his checkbook and wrote it out.

Curly looked at it. “If this bounces, I’m going to come back here and beat the shit out of you. You won’t be able to work for a few weeks, you understand me?”

“It’s not necessary to threaten me, Curly.”