“It is too much trouble,” says the lieutenant, and he turns abruptly to leave. Everyone in the bar is watching. The uniformed cop looks at the unconscious American and calls for another coffee mug of beer. The lieutenant ducks under the metal door.

Burton claps an arm around Mike’s shoulders. No worries. He is smiling and reassuring, but Mike knows he had to use a favor. When Mike starts to apologize, Burton says “That’s what they’re for, those kind of favors. I’m just glad everyone was in a good mood. It could have been tricky with that lieutenant.” Mike wonder what kind of tricky Burton means.

“Let’s go for a drink,” Burton says and leads Paul and Mike out the front door of the club. Mike notices that the patrons pretend not to look at him now. He sees their fear of him and his companions, their awe of trouble survivors. He likes it.

Following Burton around the back of the club, Mike sees a wooden staircase to the second floor, crowded with Thai girls. Some are wearing robes. Some at the top by the door, just towels. There must be a dozen smoking and chatting and looking tired like nurses outside an ER.

Paul and Burton smile and say hello to the nearest girls. Before Burton can ask about them, Bridget and Tweety emerge from the door at the top of the stairs. Mike thinks it’s strange to see Bridget there. He is even more unsettled by Tweety, who is now wearing simple jeans and T-shirt, instead of the uniform of the whore. Mike also notices her skin, how clear it looks without makeup, how soft.

“Ready?” says Burton to Tweety.

Tweety nods and smiles without opening her mouth, as if steeling herself for something that will hurt but is good for you, like a shot.

37

Mike’s mother took her boys to the Central Park Zoo only once. It was very early on a Saturday morning, and she had woken them up and rushed them out of the house. Even in the rush, Mike saw his father asleep in his suit on the couch in the living room. Mike’s mother was pretending to be cheerful, and he and Lyle were both uneasy about this. They didn’t know what to say and were careful not to irritate her.

“Relax,” she said in a flat voice when they walked into Central Park at Sixty-fourth Street. “We’re going to the zoo, not school.” She bought them fleshy hot dogs for breakfast from a vendor with a cart, another surprise because they were not allowed to eat street food. Mike and Lyle would remember all of this vividly, because it was unusual to be with their mother any Saturday morning, but mostly because they had then gone to see the polar bear that was famous for being depressed.