Corey Bradford squirmed and muttered, “Cut it out, Nellie. God damn it, cut it out.” He snatched at his drink and tossed the gin down his throat. As he lowered the shot glass to the bar, he saw that his hand was quivering. He glanced quickly at Nellie. Her eyes aimed at his quivering hand.

“And now it ain’t no joke,” she said quietly, solemnly. “Whatever it is, you really been clobbered hard.” She moved closer to him. “You wanna tell me, Bradford?”

He shook his head.

“Come on, tell me,” Nellie said. “Lean it on me.”

“It can’t be handled that way,” he mumbled. And wondered, now what does that mean? A voice burdened with sadness and choked with remorse called out to the bartender for another gin. It was his own voice and he said to himself, it can’t be handled that way, neither. But as the double shot arrived, he went for it like an empty-bellied bird diving desperately for a breadcrumb in the snow. So you know what happens now? he asked the desperate drinker. It’s them eleven faces you’ll hafta live with, the face of Leonard Ward Ferguson and the face of his widowed wife and the nine faces of them fatherless children. Because you did it. Just like McDermott said, you done him in. And don’t say it couldn’t be helped. Don’t even say you’re sorry. If you were really sorry you’d go to Grogan and tell him the deal is off, and you don’t need his fifteen grand. Can you picture yourself doing that? Can you picture a larceny expert running to the lost-and-found department with a five-dollar bill he found in the subway?

He heard Nellie say, “You know how long I’ve known you, Bradford? Since grammar school. Since fifth grade. And you still got that dent in your forehead.”

“What dent?”

“Right there. Right above your left eye. Where I hit you that time in the schoolyard. With a brick. I threw a brick. You remember?”

“Too far back.”

“You were calling me Ellie instead of Nellie. And I asked you why. And you said Ellie was short for elephant.”

“You coulda picked up a stone. It didn’t hafta be no brick.”

“A stone wouldn’t of left no mark,” Nellie said. “Guess I wanted it to leave a mark. So you’d never forget.”

“To call you Nellie instead of Ellie?”

“That’s one thing.”

“And the other thing?”

“We won’t talk about that.”

“But I don’t know what it is.”

“That’s what I mean,” Nellie said. She gulped the double rye and chased it with some beer. She started away from the bar. Again he reached out and took hold of her arm. She said tightly, “Now what?”

“Lemme buy you another.”

“I don’t want no more.”