The Fury - Jason Pinter [70]
Just hearing this made me wince. "Does it hurt?"
"When it's cold out, yeah. Gets a little stiff on me.
Plus, it's a little numb by my toes, on account of them
having to go through some nerves, too. Docs aren't sure
that'll ever come back. Not a big deal, though."
I wanted to scream at him and ask how that could not
be a big deal, but I supposed if you took a bullet in an
artery and that was the worst-case scenario, you tended
to think on the bright side of things.
"Tell you one thing," Curt continued, "I'm going to
have to start wearing gloves, they got me filling out so
many forms. Feel like I'm a supporting cast member
on The Office or something. The black dude who
stands in the corner with paper cuts on every finger.
How's Amanda?"
"She's doing well," I said. "Been a huge help on
this thing with my dad. Without her he'd probably
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still be sitting in an Oregon prison claiming not to be
James Parker."
"She's a good one, my man. Glad you finally made
amends for all that crap you pulled breaking up with
her."
"It wasn't like I was just breaking up with her," I said,
taking another pull on my drink. "I thought I was doing
the right thing, being noble."
"Nobility isn't about telling someone what you think
is right for them. It's doing the right thing, period.
Girls's a grown woman, she can make her own deci
sions. What you did was selfish, and it was to alleviate
your own guilt over what happened to her and Mya. You
felt like if you broke things off, you could feel as if you
were protecting them. Just not so. I don't claim to be
Mr. Perfect Relationship, but there's give-and-take.
You're with someone, you're their partner. It was
selfish, bro, own up to it."
"Maybe you're right," I said. "And trust me, I know
I screwed up. And I'm atoning for it."
"How?"
"For starters, I cook every Friday night."
"You a good cook?"
"If by 'good' you mean she's able to swallow one
forkful without gagging, then yeah, I'm a good cook."
Curt sipped his drink, then shifted his weight, a small
grimace spreading over his face. It was a brief reaction
and certainly unintentional, but for some reason it made
my stomach feel hollow.
"Can I ask you something?" I said.
"'Course, man.You sound serious all of a sudden, you
got a month to live or something?" he said, laughing.
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207
I smiled, drank. "You ever feel like I do more harm
than good? As a person?"
Curt looked at me. He could tell I was serious. "Not
quite sure why you say that," he said. "But it feels to
me like you might be having a little pity party."
"It's not that," I said. "I'm over all that. I just feel like
over the last few years...I mean, look at it. Mya.
Amanda. You. My dad. Just feels like all these people
I'm supposed to be close to get hurt. Not to mention this
guy who got killed the other day."
"What guy?' Curt asked.
I filled him in on the details of Hector Guardado and
the briefcase. He sat there, focused, listening intently.
He nodded when I brought up Detective Makhoulian,
said he'd met the guy once or twice and that he seemed
like he was on the up-and-up.
Often it took a good cop to recognize a good cop, so
it was reassuring to hear Curt say that.
Though my first few months in the city I'd been dis
trustful of cops--and who could blame me since two
of them tried to kill me for erroneous reasons--recently
I'd begun to settle back in, believing that guys like Mak
houlian were truly here to serve and protect. Just
because most of them didn't like me didn't mean I
didn't have respect for them.
"And you think this guy Guardado is somehow tied
in to your brother's death?" he said.
"Probably not directly, but I caught Guardado
coming out of a building where I saw a bunch of other
drug couriers signing in to a company called 718 Enter
prises. I couldn't find much on them, but I'm pretty sure
Stephen might have worked for them at some point."
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"Selling drugs," Curt said.
"That's right."
"And what's the name of that company you men