The Guilty - Jason Pinter [47]
"Betty Grable."
"She had to be transferred to Bellevue. Seeing her boss
killed like that, something snapped. Hate to say it, but it's a
good thing you got a minute of her time."
"That's terrible," I said.
"Ripples, Henry. Not just the dead are affected by death."
"Guess not."
"That quote," Jack said. "Billy the Kid. You got something,
but it's not nearly concrete enough for Wallace to let you print
it."
"I'll find more," I said. "But I need time, resources."
Jack looked at me, seemed to be weighing something.
Then he took a pen and pad from the briefcase. He opened
the pad, scribbled something on it, then ripped off a piece
of paper and handed it to me. It was a check for two thousand dollars.
"Jack, I can't possibly..."
"Take it," he said. "This will buy you some resources. And
if it leads to anything, I expect to be reimbursed."
"And if it doesn't lead to anything?"
Jack smiled. "Then I expect one hell of a birthday present."
I had nothing to say, but, "Thank you."
"Don't mention it again," Jack said. He finished his drink,
set it down. The waitress came over and he nodded for one more.
He saw my eyes following his. "Trust me, kid, once you get to
my age you can't underestimate the importance of a good drink."
"I'll remember that, but I have a few years."
"Yeah, you do, but they go by quick. Wasn't long ago I was
meeting my boss for drinks. Now," Jack said. "That girl you're
with. Amanda's her name, right?"
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141
"That's right." In the year and a half since I'd known
Jack, we'd never discussed Amanda other than platitudes and
pleasantries.
"And you two met during the Fredrickson fiasco."
"They say the best relationships are born out of extreme
circumstances."
Jack's eyes had a flicker of recognition. "I think I heard
that in a movie once."
"Probably."
"How are things going between you two?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Good, I guess. We're living
together. Soon, I know, after everything that happened, but it
feels good."
"That's nice," Jack said wistfully. "Another thing you can
never underestimate is companionship." Jack, I knew, had
been married, and divorced, three times. "So I guess you'd
say it's serious."
I laughed. "Yeah, I think so. Besides, if Amanda ever
knew I said no to that question I'd wake up the next morning
with no teeth."
"Feisty, is she?"
"She'd kick feisty's ass down the block."
"That's good," Jack said, smiling. "You know I look at you
across this table, you look at me the same way I used to look
at Petey Vincent."
"The name rings a bell," I said.
"Petey Vincent was my idol growing up. Those days,
newsmen were the toast of the city. You reported the hot
stories, had more groupies than ballplayers, spent the evenings
at your Park Avenue homes and ate caviar. Nowadays the
only way a reporter eats caviar is if an I-banker sends it to them
at Christmas. It's a thankless job, so you gotta really love it."
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Jason Pinter
"I do," I said.
"What I'm saying is," Jack continued, "if you want to be
a great reporter, you need to keep Amanda this far from you."
He held out his arm, as though holding up a wall.
"Why would I want to do that?"
"I'm not going to ask if you love her," Jack said. "Love is
easier to find than you think. But nobody remembers great
love. People remember great men and women for who they
are, not who they love. At some point in every relationship,
you have to make a choice as to what your priorities are. At
some point this job will demand more of your time than your
loved ones are willing to give up. And when that happens, you
can either be prepared for it or you get overwhelmed. You'll
end up a half-assed reporter and a half-assed husband. And
then you'll have nothing."
The waitress came back with a refill of Jack's drink. She
noticed that neither of us were speaking. "Getcha another?"
she said, nodding at my half-finished beer.
"No, thanks." She clicked her gum and walked away.
"I don't think I could ever give her up," I said. Jack sighed,
looked