Wright manipulated Beck’s left arm with a hand resting on his collarbone. He briefly looked at Beck’s hand and scuffed knuckles.
Beck started to speak, but Brandon cut him off. “I don’t need the details.”
He turned back to Willie Reese.
“You, sir, need to understand your injuries. Forgetting the contusions and all, I’m figuring probably two cracked ribs. That large elastic bandage I wrapped you with might help. I suspect you’ll take it off so you can breathe better, but…” Wright waggled a hand…” it’s probably not so bad if you do. Might mean less chance you end up with pneumonia.”
Reese looked at the doctor with an expression that said he might be either thinking about punching him, or simply didn’t understand him.
The doctor rephrased his comments.
“Keep the bandage on if you want, take it off if you want.”
Reese nodded once.
“Your nose is frankly a mess. How many times have you broken it?”
Reese shrugged.
“Well, now the septum is broken, and the cartilage split up all to hell. And you’ve got lacerations in both nostrils. I’ve set it somewhat straight, but you really need to see a surgeon who can open the hood and properly repair that mess. Reset the whole thing, pack your nose, and give it six weeks to heal in place.” Brandon began writing on a prescription pad. “See this doctor. He won’t charge you much. Ice the hell out of it. Take ibuprofen, but nothing else.”
Wright waited for any questions. Reese had none.
“Your eye is the worst problem. Potentially. I’m writing down the name of an ophthalmologist. He’ll take cash. Do not avoid seeing him. You already have a subconjunctival hemorrhage, which is normally not a big deal, but you also have a deep scratch, perhaps some corneal damage, which raises the chance of infection. So don’t tough this out. You could lose the eye. And don’t screw around in an emergency room. They don’t have the equipment. Okay?”
Reese didn’t answer, but again nodded.
Wright turned to Beck. “You, soak your hands in ice water. Take ibuprofen. Your collarbone isn’t broken. For once you’ve avoided stitches, concussion, open wounds, and so on.”
“Thanks, Brandon. Anything we can get you?”
“No, thank you. Emmanuel already offered me food. Demarco offered me coffee. You, of course, offered me a warm welcome, so I’m all set and I’ll be on my way.” He picked up his doctor bag, but before he turned to go he said, “All banter aside, is this the beginning of…?”
Beck interrupted. “No. It’s just a strange, unavoidable unpleasantness in a world where people act without thinking. On assumptions that are dangerous, but mostly just annoying. But who knows? It could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
The doctor looked back and forth between the two men, said nothing, and walked out the front door.
Beck turned to Reese. Flexed his hands, feeling the swelling and stiffness already setting in. He was already anticipating the morning pain. It would make his workout that much more difficult.
“So,” said Beck, “Want to answer a few questions?”
Reese shrugged.
“Yes or no. And a yes better goddamn well mean yes.”
“Okay. Yeah. Why not?”
Willie Reese filled the entire space on his side of the table. Sitting down with his leather hoodie off, his muscles bulging against his tight-fitting, bloody T-shirt, he looked even more formidable than he had out on the street. But he didn’t sound so tough, forcing his words through his swollen, broken nose.
“When did you get back in the neighborhood?”
“’Bout a week ago.”
“How long were you away for?”
“Five year bit. Did three.”
“Where?”
“Ossining.”
Beck nodded. “They didn’t bother transferring you out.”
“Nah. I’d already done almost a year at Rikers.”
“So, you grew up in this neighborhood?”
Reese nodded.
“Now you’re out, you have to get back to work.”
“Yeah.”
“What gave you the idea that I would be an easy place to start?”
Reese shrugged.
“Seriously, I want to know.”
“Shorty Wayne makin’ money off you, shit, I figure that’d be a easy place to start.”
“You didn’t think it through.”
Willie Reese answered with another shrug. He didn’t usually have to think about anything much past the end of his fist.
Beck leaned forward, “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
“I got some now.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“You smart. You not afraid to bang it with someone like me, but you sneaky. Didn’t put yourself in too much danger. Wore me down first. Got in some quick shots, and backed off. You got a crew with shotguns. You the kind of guy gets left alone. Or killed. Nuthin’ in between. That’s about all I need to know.”
Beck shook his head. “No man, no, that’s not all you need to know. I mean, that’s part of it. You’re mostly right, but you shouldn’t stop there. You gotta face the fact that you got banged up, might even lose an eye over this. Plus, you risked your guys. One or all of them could have easily gotten splattered all over the street. So now you’re just going to walk away?”
“You said something about workin’ for you.”
“Okay. But first I have to clear up one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If I say no, if I say get the fuck out of here, do I have to worry about you coming back at me?”
Reese looked at Beck. Then at Demarco watching him, the Benelli under his right hand.
“Shit. You think I’m a fool?”
“How so?”
“If I was comin’ back at you, I wouldn’t tell you. But I ain’t. You didn’t do anything to me I wouldn’t have done. “’Cept have that doctor look at me. I don’t know no doctors.”
Beck looked at Reese, deciding whether or not he was telling the truth. He decided he was.
“Okay.”