She stared at the coin on the table. “What’s this for?”

“The phone call. The call you made to Night Squad.”

She didn’t look up. She didn’t say anything.

Corey said, “Now listen, you. Listen good. Don’t do me no more favors. I don’t want no favors from you. I don’t want nothing. You hear me?”

“I hear you.” She sipped some beer. “I’m wondering what you’re all worked up about.”

“Don’t gimme that,” with his gin-glazed eyes seeing two blurred Lillians and then three blurred Lillians. “You know whatcha did,” his gin-cracked voice was just above a whisper. “Looked out the kitchen window and saw me running from that alley. Saw them chasing me. Saw they had guns. Then later you heard the shooting. Next thing, you’re scooting for a phone booth and putting in a call.”

“So?”

“Whaddya mean, so? I wanna know why.”

“Why I put in the call?” She shrugged. “You needed help.”

“From you?”

“From anyone.” She shrugged again. “Someone hadda call in. If that phone call wasn’t made, you probably wouldn’t be here now.”

“You ran out in all that rain—”

“And spent a dime,” she said. “So you owed me a dime and you gimme this quarter and I owe you fifteen cents.” She opened a purse, put the quarter in and took out three nickels. “There’s your fifteen cents.”

He looked at the three nickels on the table. He reached for the coins and missed them. His hand hit the beer glass and knocked it over. Beer streamed over the edge of the table and dripped into Lillian’s lap. Corey made another try for the three nickels. He missed again and his hand went sliding through the beer on the table as he lost his footing. His weight came against the side of the table, causing it to tilt. The bottle fell off, hit the floor and broke.

“Now look what I done,” Corey said dismally. “Just look at what I done here.”

Lillian had pushed back her chair and was on her feet, her fingers flicking futilely at her wet skirt.

“Gotta make it up to you,” Corey said, reaching for his wallet. But his hand couldn’t find the rear pocket of his trousers and he moved around in a gin-distorted circle. “Gotta pay for the beer,” he mumbled. “Gotta pay for the skirt, to get it cleaned.” He went around in another circle, still trying for the wallet. “Gotta settle all debts and meet all obligations.” He tugged fretfully at his trousers that didn’t seem to have a rear pocket. Then he found it, started to take out the wallet, but in that moment his legs got tangled and he fell to the floor. Sitting there, he saw Lillian headed toward the side door. “Hey you,” he called to her. “Hey you—”