Chapter 4
THE first shot of Scotch went down like water, and the rotund, beet-faced Matty obeyed Steve's hand-command for an immediate refill.
On the second one, he got more for his money as the amber fluid slushed his throat, warming his in-sides and tightening his face.
"Whatsa matter?" Matty started, barmopping the area about Steve. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Two of them," Steve deadpanned.
Matty shrugged quizzically, let it go at that. He placed the familiar cigar butt between his thick lips, rolled it about, gnawing his teeth unmercifully into it. "You just missed the boys," Matty informed Steve as though it would surely be heartbreaking news. "Artie, Danny, Pete . . . you know. They wuz asking about you."
Steve tightened, certain that Matty pulled the "inside-clicky"
