He touched his fingers to the center of his forehead and massaged a small circle. He said, "I'm going to tell you something, and you remember it. In this world, you can't demand respect; you've got to command it."

"You understand that?"

"I think so."

"I'm taking you home, and then I'm going over to your uncle's and kick his ass from one end of his apartment to the other."

I said, "What about Aunt Eileen and the kids?"

"What about them?"

"Nothing," I said.

"That's right," he said. "Nothing."

Thick muscles of shoulders and chest under paint-caked overalls.

the streets are quiet the little fig tree he drove toward itwouldn't be natural