But these guys had apparently been in here before. They knew Tim’s name, and Tim called back, “Johnnie Walker, right?” which meant he knew them well enough to remember what they drank.

“Johnnie Black, if you got it,” one of the guineas called back. “And, what the hell, give Frankie one, too.”

What the hell is this all about? Frankie wondered. What the hell, a couple of guineas playing big shot. They’re always doing that kind of shit. Something in their blood, maybe.

Tim served the drinks, first to the guineas, and then carried another Ortleib’s and the bottle of Johnnie Walker and a shot glass to where Frankie sat.

“You want a chaser with that, or what?” Tim asked as he filled the shot glass with scotch.

“The beer’s fine,” Frankie said.

He raised the shot glass to his lips and took a sip and looked at the guineas and waved his hand.

One of the guineas came down the bar.

“How are you, Frankie?” he said, putting out his hand. “The scotch all right? I didn’t think to ask did you like scotch.”

“Fine. Thanks. Do I know you?”

“I dunno. Do you? My name is Joey Fatalgio.”

“Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” Frankie said.

They shook hands.

“I know who you are, of course,” Joey Fatalgio said, and winked.

What the fuck is with the wink? This guy don’t look like no fag.

“I come in here every once in a while,” Frankie said.

“And maybe I seen you at the Inferno,” Fatalgio said. “Me and my brother-Dominic-that’s him down there, we go in there from time to time.”

“Yeah, maybe I seen you in the Inferno,” Frankie said. “I hang out there sometimes. And I’m thinking of going to work there.”

“Hey, Dominic!” Joey Fatalgio called to his brother. “Bring your glass down here and say hello to Frankie Foley.”

Dominic hoisted himself off his stool and made his way down the bar.

“Frankie, Dominic,” Joey made the introductions, “Dominic, Frankie.”

“How the hell are you, Frankie?” Dominic said. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Frankie said.

“Frankie was just telling me he’s thinking of going to work at the Inferno,” Joey said.

“Going to work? The way I heard it, he already did the job at the Inferno,” Dominic said, and he winked at Frankie.

Frankie felt a little nervous.

There were guineas on the cops. Are these two cops?

“Shut the fuck up, for Christ’s sake, Dominic,” Joey Fatalgio said. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” He turned to Frankie. “You should excuse him, Frankie. Sometimes he gets stupid.”

“Fuck you, Joey,” Dominic said.

“There are places you talk about certain things, asshole,” Joey said, “and places you don’t, and this is one of the places you don’t. Right, Frankie?”

“Right,” Frankie agreed.

“No offense, Frankie,” Dominic said.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Frankie said.

“He don’t mean no harm, but sometimes he’s stupid,” Joey said.

“Fuck you, Joey, who do you think you are, Einstein or somebody?”

“Where do you guys work?” Frankie said, both to change the subject-Dominic looked like he was getting pissed at the way his brother was talking to him-and to see what they would say. He didn’t think they were cops, but you never really could tell.

“We’re drivers,” Joey said.

“Truck drivers?”

“I’m a people driver,” Joey said. “Asshole here is a stiff driver.”

“Huh?”

Joey reached in his wallet and produced a business card, and gave it to Frankie. It was for some company called Classic Livery, Inc., with an address in South Philly, and “Joseph T. Fatalgio, Jr.” printed on the bottom.

“What’s a livery?” Frankie asked.

“It goes back to horses,” Joey explained. “Remember in the cowboy movies where Roy Rogers would park his horse in the livery stables?”

“Yeah,” Frankie said, remembering. “I do.”

“I think it used to mean ‘horses for hire’ or something like that,” Dominic said. “Now it means limousines.”

“Limousines?”

“Yeah. Limousines. Mostly for funerals, but if you want a limousine to get married in, we got white ones. We even got a white Rolls-Royce.”

“No shit?”

“Costs a fucking fortune, but you’d be surprised how often it gets rented,” Dominic went on.

“Most of our business is funeral homes,” Joey said. “Only the bride, usually, gets a limousine ride for a wedding. But if you don’t get to follow the casket to the cemetery in a limousine for a funeral, people will think you’re the family black sheep.”

“I guess that’s so,” Frankie agreed, and then started to hand the Classic Livery business card back to Joey.

Joey held up his hand to stop him.

“Keep it,” he said. “You may need a limousine someday.”

“Yeah,” Dominic said. “And they’ll probably give you a professional discount.”

Joey laughed in delight.

“I told you shut up, asshole,” he said.

“A professional discount for what?” Frankie asked, overwhelmed by curiosity.

“Shit, you know what for. Increasing business,” Dominic said.

Joey laughed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Frankie said.

“Right,” Joey said, and laughed, and winked.

“Yeah, right,” Dominic said.

“Actually, Frankie, that’s sort of the reason we’re here.”

“What is?” Frankie asked.

“What you don’t know we’re talking about,” Joey said softly, moving so close to Frankie that Frankie could smell his cologne. “Frankie, there’s a fellow we know wants to talk to you.”

“Talk to me about what?”

Joey winked at Frankie.

“I don’t know,” Joey said. “But what I do know about this fellow is that he admires a job well done.”

“He’s done a job or two himself,” Dominic said. “If you know what I mean.”

“He already told you he don’t know what you’re talking about, asshole,” Joey said.

“Right,” Dominic said.

“What this fellow we know wants to talk to you about, Frankie,” Joey said, “is a job.”

“What kind of a job?”

“Let’s say a job where you could make in an hour about ten times what you make in a month pushing furniture around the Wanamaker’s warehouse.”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s say this fellow we know has a sort of professional admiration for the way you did your last job, and we both know I’m not talking about throwing furniture on the back of some truck.”

“Who is this guy?”

“He’s like you, Frankie, he likes to sort of maintain a low profile, you know what I mean. Have a sort of public job, and then have another job, like a part-time job, every once in a while, a job that not a hell of a lot of other people can do, you know what I mean.”

“Why does he want to talk to me?” Frankie asked.

“Sometimes, what I understand, with his full-time job, he can handle a part-time job, too, when one comes along. But sometimes, you know what I mean, more than one part-time job comes along. Actually, in this case, what I understand is that there’s three, four part-time jobs come along, and this fellow can’t handle all of them himself. I mean, you’d have to keep your mouth shut-you can keep your mouth shut, can’t you, Frankie?”

“Like a fucking clam,” Frankie said.

“I figured you could, a fellow in the part-time job business like you would have to keep his mouth shut. What I’m saying here, Frankie, is that you would be like a subcontractor. I mean, you come to some financial understanding with this fellow, you do the job, and the whole thing would be between you two. I mean, the people who hired him for the particular part-time job I think this fellow has in mind wouldn’t ever find out that this fellow subcontracted it. They might not like that. I mean, they pay this fellow the kind of money they pay, they expect him to do the job himself, not subcontract it. But what they don’t know can’t hurt them, right?”

“Right,” Frankie said.

“So maybe you would be willing to talk to this fellow, Frankie?” Dominic asked. “I mean, he’d appreciate it. And if you can’t come to some sort of mutually satisfactory arrangement, then you walk away, right? No hard feelings. You’d lose nothing, and it might be in your mutual interest to get to know this fellow. You never know what will happen next week.”