“A hundred?”

“Yes, a hundred.”

*  *  *

Ben couldn’t believe how easy it was to get ahold of Teddy. He had thought it would take days and only happen at four in the morning.

“So where do I go in Boston?”

“Where?”

“Yeah, like is there an easy place?”

“Little Benny boy, trying to get wet!”

“Shut up,” laughed Ben.

“Lemme see…Yeah, right, there’s a good store on Beach Street. Hold on.”

Teddy told him how to navigate once he left South Station.

“Just act like you fucking own the place, man. Think to yourself that it’s yours the entire time you’re in there, while they watch you choose stuff, just think that you’re doing them a favor by letting them be in the store while you’re in the store too. You already own the vodka, they’ve just been keeping it for you. It’s your fucking store. They only get to be there because you say so.”

Ben nodded there in the basement, wanting to soak in this confidence and prevent it from draining out again.

“How’s it been going out there?” Ben asked quietly.

“What, now that we’re broke?”

Ben laughed.

“Yeah, now that we’re broke.”

“It’s good, I guess. I’ve found some cool guys.”

“Cool.”

Teddy heard through the phone that Ben was missing the opportunities for life hidden in the curtains of St. James.

“So how are you dealing?” said Teddy. “They put you on aid, right? And you’re still not going back to squash?”

“Nah. I mean, you stopped playing, right?”

“Yeah.”

Ben let the silence go on. “I mean,” Teddy said finally, “Price wanted me to keep playing, he made the pitch to me so many times, but I just had other things I wanted to do.”

Ben felt protective now. He wondered if his brother had made himself believe it.

“Just—” Teddy went on, “by the time sixth form came around, if I had been up the night before scoring beaver and getting wet, I always wanted to be able to take a nap before Seated. That’s how I wanted to arrange my afternoons.”

“Makes sense.”

“So—”

“So how did you work it out there? Did Kenyon put you on aid?”

“No, dude.”

“Then what?”

“They paid Kenyon.”

Ben wanted to ask him to say it again, but he didn’t speak.

“They had to pay Kenyon. I mean, Kenyon doesn’t know who we are. You know? We are SJS, but here, I’m just another…” Teddy remembered the basements of the quad dorms, sitting there alone talking to their parents. “Put yourself in their shoes, Ben. What would you do?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you think they’re doing?”

“Hey, Teddy, someone’s been waiting for the phone.”

“Good luck in Chinatown, little cub. You own that store. It’s been in our family for generations.”

*  *  *