“I just want to do some good,” Ray said, heading toward the loading dock. He was just like the rest of them, would give up his left arm to be a firefighter. If he hadn’t gotten on with the cops first, he’d still be waiting for them to call his number. Instead, you had to be a fucking veteran, the son of a fireman, or some dummy minority. All of them could add so much to the department. All of them wanting to fight fires since they were kids.
As the big rolling door slid back, Kevin recalled that little room in Lynn where he’d grown up. The stars and the moons on his blanket and the little red fire hat on the hook by the door. She was so sure he’d be part of it someday. The happiest days were after they’d look for fires, both of them coming up smelling like smoke, talking about what they’d seen and heard. Never talk about his father. He was nothing. He could never be a man like those in the department. Not like what Kevin would become.
Kevin carried a sack in each hand and walked into the darkness, a small bit of light shining through the dirty industrial windows. He was to set both on the first floor. Johnny would call them on the walkie-talkie when it was time to set it off.
Two years since he turned in his application. Two years of calling every month to see where he stood on the list. Still fifty ahead of him. None of them ready for the challenge like he was.
Kevin sat on his haunches in the middle of the desolate building. It was warm inside, with trapped heat from the long summer day. He lit a cigarette and smoked a bit, taking in the big, cavelike space that smelled of mold and stagnant water. New boxed mattresses stacked ten to fifteen high as far as he could see. He watched the glowing tip of the cigarette and took a breath. Everything just seemed endless.
“Now,” Johnny said. “Do it!”
13
Some might deem this entrapment,” I said.
Hawk said, “Heard it was Give a Honkie a Donut Day.”
“Is that a thing?” I said.
“Is now.”
I reached into the box from Kane’s and selected a cinnamon sugar. The selection was dazzling. Toasted coconut. Oreo sprinkles. Maple bacon. Since Kane’s had come from Saugus to the Financial District, I’d been unfaithful to my old standby.
“Who eats meat on donuts?” Hawk said.
“It’s not just meat,” I said. “It’s bacon. Bacon makes everything better.”
Hawk nodded. We leaned against the brick wall above the marina at Rowes Warf. Hawk selected a coconut, careful not to get any shavings on his fitted T-shirt. It was the kind that wicked away sweat. In the late-afternoon heat, his face and bald head shone with perspiration.
“What’s in it for me?” Hawk said.
“C’mon,” I said. “How’d you know I needed a favor?”
Hawk just looked at me. He reached for a donut and took off a healthy bite.
“Arson case,” I said. “Looks like it’s circling back to Jackie DeMarco.”
“Hot dog.”
“And given our history with Jackie,” I said. “Well. You know.”
“Ha,” Hawk said.
I ate a donut, trying to make it last, and stared out into the harbor. It was late afternoon and the water was filled with motorboats, little speedboats, and yachts. The water ferry from Logan skitted along, churning waves, cutting a path to the Boston Harbor Hotel.
“You think Jackie’s still holding a grudge?”
“I shot two of his best men.”
“If they were his best,” I said, “he might’ve traded up.”
Hawk nodded. He wore a pair of dark Oakleys, but I felt a hard stare behind the Oakleys. He’d set his gym bag on the brick wall, the zipper open, showing a pair of blue Lonsdale mitts.
“Insurance racket?”
“Nope,” I said. “Jackie’s casting a hand over some property in a bad part of the South End.”
“Someone wouldn’t pay up.” Hawk continued to stare from behind his sunglasses. As he chewed, a fleck of shaved coconut dropped on his shirt. He flicked it away as if it were a gnat. “We need to pay Jackie a visit?”
“Not yet,” I said. “I’m still in the gathering phase. I’d prefer him not knowing about it.”
Hawk shook his head. “Someone like DeMarco ain’t stopping with what he got,” he said. “If he’s moving out of Southie, man has delusions of grandeur. Wants to be his daddy or the new Joe Broz.”
“He’ll have to work on his wardrobe.”
Hawk snorted.
“Only one?” I said. I nodded to the box with ten left.
“The rest are for you, white boy,” Hawk said. “After all, it’s your day.”
“You ever hear anything about DeMarco burning people out?”
“Not my line of work, babe,” he said. “I’m not into subtlety.”
Hawk reached for another donut anyway, a maple-bacon one. He smiled as he ate. It must’ve been good. Hawk rarely smiled.
“Vinnie?” I said.
Hawk licked his fingers. “Or Gino Fish.”
“Gino isn’t what he used to be,” I said. “But Vinnie is more.”
I rested forearms on the high wall looking over the harbor. When Hawk and I had been young, it was sometimes tougher outside on the street than in the boxing gym. A man had to walk with purpose if he wanted to keep his wallet. Now the expressway was a Greenway and blight was a thing of the past.