That “code” that Cole said he saw in Mason—all that bushido honor and bushido loyalty—maybe it really was a rare thing after all.
“I’m sorry, man,” Eddie said. “It must feel like I forgot all about you in there. I really didn’t. Every day, I thought about you in there and me out here.”
Mason was quiet.
“We grew up together,” Eddie said. “How many times did you save my ass, even before you went away? I should have been a better friend. After what you did for me.”
“I said forget it.”
“I’m turning this into a fucking soap opera, I’m sorry. Come on, let’s drink to something, okay? You’re out of prison.” Eddie raised his beer. “To getting out. To freedom.”
Mason raised his halfheartedly. The two cans clicked together. Mason wasn’t so sure what they were drinking to. Whatever he had now, it wasn’t really freedom. Like Quintero had said, it’s mobility.
“To Finn,” Mason said, raising his beer again.
“To crazy old Finn.”
They clicked their cans one more time. Neither of them said anything for a while.
“I saw McManus,” Mason finally said.
“How’d that go?”
“Could have run him over. Didn’t even realize who it was until I was down the street.”
“I’m surprised that asshole is still in town. If I ever see him, he’s a dead man.”
Mason took a hit off his beer.
“It’s funny,” Eddie said. “I think back to that night . . . That fucker was out of the truck before they even started shooting.”
Mason nodded. He’d been thinking about it for years.
“He better not come to Bridgeport. I swear, I’ll beat him to death. Right in the street.”
Yeah, sure, Mason thought. While Sandra and the boys are watching you. That’s exactly what you’ll do.
“I saw Detective Sandoval, too,” Mason said. “You remember him.”
“Yeah.”
“He might come by, ask you some questions, now that I’m out.”
Eddie looked out at the house like he was imagining a detective on his front porch and Sandra answering the doorbell.
“Sandoval couldn’t touch you five years ago,” Mason said. “He can’t touch you today. You got nothing to worry about.”
“Right.”
Eddie took a long sip off his beer and stared at the garage floor for a while.
“Hey, that reminds me,” Eddie said. “I got something to show you.”
He put down his beer, got up, and grabbed the stepladder from the far corner of the garage. He set it up and went into the rafters. He came down with a cardboard box. When he opened it, he pulled out a stack of newspapers. The first masthead read Chicago Sun-Times, and it took Mason about two seconds to understand what these represented. These were the newspapers from five years ago, all of the coverage from the harbor job, the dead agent, the apprehending of the suspect, the police superintendent standing on the court steps and saying that a federal agent’s death has been avenged. The whole fucking circus.
“Eddie,” Mason said, “why the hell would you save these?”
“I’m not even sure what I was thinking, but, I’ll tell ya, when I’m having a bad day or something, I’ll take out these papers and I’ll remember what you did for me. How I’m here in this house with my wife and kids because you didn’t give me up. How Finn never even made it back home at all. It just puts everything in perspective, you know?”
Eddie flipped through the pages, shaking his head as he relived the history.
“You should take these,” Eddie said. “Read them, if you want. Burn them. I don’t care. I just think you should have them. Now that you’re out, I don’t need them anymore.”
Eddie put the newspapers back in the box. Mason took his last hit off the beer, then put the can down on the table.
“I’ll get out of here,” Mason said, “before I get you in any more trouble.”
Eddie reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders again. This time, he pulled him close and gave him a hug. “It’s good to see you, man. I still can’t believe it.”
“Take care of yourself, Eddie.”
“Listen to me,” he said, looking Mason in the eye. “If you ever need me, I’ll be there. Anything, anytime. Whatever it is. I will be there.”
“Okay.”
Eddie took out a piece of paper from his pocket and wrote down his number. “Here,” he said as he gave it to him. “I mean it, Nick. I owe you.”
Eddie gave him one more hug. Mason picked up the box of newspapers and walked back down the narrow side yard, back to the street. He glanced at the window but didn’t see Sandra looking out at him.
Mason put the newspapers in the backseat of the Camaro. Then he got in and left Bridgeport behind him.
19
As Nick Mason was nervously getting dressed for his first date, he silently prayed that Quintero wouldn’t call him during dinner. He knew if he suddenly had to get up and leave, there wouldn’t be a second date.