Page 3 of A Friend in the Glass

“How did you get this number?”

“Is this Sam Auden?”

“Let’s say it is. I’m going to ask you again: how did you get this number?”

Her breathing sounded thin. “I’ve got something you want.”

“I doubt that. I’m hanging up now.”

“Stonefish.”

A horn blatted on the street.

Rufus had turned his head as Sam spoke in clipped sentences. He pushed himself up, asking, “Sam?”

Sam shook his head.

“Yeah,” the woman who called herself Shareed said in his ear. “I thought that’d get you.”

“What do you know about Stonefish?”

“That’s going to cost you. But it’s good.”

“What do you—”

“A hundred thousand dollars. Bring it to—”

The laugh broke out of Sam, all glass edges and bitterness. “Who the fuck is this, really? A hundred thousand dollars. Nice.”

The silence on the other end of the call had a confused quality to it. “Well, make me an offer.”

“Ok, let’s see, my boyfriend owes me something in the four-digit range. So, how about, zero fucking dollars and zero fucking cents. Quit wasting my fucking time.”

Rufus sat up on his knees. “Don’t tell people I owe you money.”

“Ten thousand,” Shareed said.

“Give me a break,” Sam said. “You don’t have anything.”

“That’s not what Lew Frazer thinks.”

Sam realized he was clutching the sheet. He forced himself to release it. “If you’ve got something, and if it’s as good as you say it is, I could scrape together a couple of thousand. If. I’m going to be the judge of that.”

“Two thousand. In advance.”

Sam grunted. He did a mental tally, his savings versus the current expense of living in a city where sometimes a hot dog cost six fucking dollars. He lowered the phone to his chest and asked Rufus, “Is the BlueMoon ok for a meet?”

Rufus was frowning. “You’re not gonna bring some shitstain in there, are you? I don’t want Maddie getting caught up in something.”

“I don’t know.”

“Can I come?”

Nodding, Sam raised the phone and said, “There’s a place called the BlueMoon Diner.”

This time, the silence was fractional before she blurted, “Eleven. No, ten thirty.”

“Ten thirty,” Sam said and disconnected.

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