He downshifted and whipped into the oncoming traffic lane. Head to head with the Honda, he released the throttle and put pedal to medal.

There would be no questioning if he got pulled over. Maybe a gentle scolding, but that would be that. He bisected the solid yellow line a good distance ahead of the Honda, reveling in the G-force of the 401 4-speed and the wind in his hair.

It was one of the things he never liked about Moe…that thing he did…that superiority thing.

Jay clicked through their meeting, the scenes vivid, like he was watching a viewfinder…Moe moving the envelope across the table with two fingers…talking without moving his lips…like he’s the boss of something.

Never mind the envelope in the first place. That’s not the way it’s done…in a coffee shop.

He’d said…No, you take it, Jay…for the trip. It’s how it’s done.

Like he was his mentor or something.

Okay…it could have been worse…at least it wasn’t in front of anybody.

Everyone knew there were only three…four…only four bosses. And the only time you had to deal with them was when you ran into one…or one called on you for something. When that happened you had to mind your p’s and q’s. Saying no wasn’t an option.

He watched the speedometer on the refurbished dashboard of the black on black 65 convertible Wildcat climb.

Moe?…you could say no to him.

____________________________________________________________________________________

“I told you it was him, Jay,” she said when they were seated at the breakfast nook watching the news on the five inch television.

“I never said it wasn’t,” he clarified.

“But you knew it…”

“Lonna! Please. I’m not going to say. Leave it at that. I’m begging you!”

She shrugged. “He needs money. That’s all I’m saying. He’s living at The Linkletter.”

“Of course he needs money. He had to sell everything he owned. We’ve talked about it ad nauseum.”

Then as an afterthought he asked, “where’d you hear he was staying at The Linkletter?”

“Lii…ving! Not staying. Living at The Linkletter,” she enunciated sternly. “And I’m not saying.”

He sipped his hot chocolate. “Did you put vanilla in this?”

She sighed. “Yes. I’ve been putting vanilla in it for awhile.”

“Delicious…the Linkletter Inn’s not that bad.”

“It’s not that good either,” she said.

When he frowned, she asked, “how long will you be gone?”

“I was planning on going up to Lexington since I’ll be so close.”

“Yes. I thought you would.” She sighed again and stirred her own hot chocolate. “Oh well, I’ll be back in the classroom anyway.”

“Five or six days. No more than a week,” he clarified.

“Do you want me to pack for you?”

Jay reached reached for Lonna’s hand and squeezed it.

“You’re a doll, he said.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

The night after the bank job, Moe didn’t sleep so well. Every car that passed the motel made him jumpy. He had to fight the urge to look out the window.

Amateur.

That was the thing he noticed most about getting older. He was more cautious, worrying about stuff that six or seven years ago wouldn’t have phased him. Like last winter when he caught the flu.

He got sick… weak.

Then, when he finally drifted off to sleep, he woke up a couple of hours later with such a terrible backache that he could barely get out of the bed…but he managed…stretched himself out like in the old days when he boxed Golden Gloves. All the contorting led to an episode where he, at first, rather furtively checked himself out in the mirror…longer than he had in awhile.

The old gene pool was pretty good. There was very little grey in his hair. Didn’t look his age.

The tortoiseshell kitten slinked through his legs and attacked his feet.

Could stand to loose a few pounds…twenty-five to thirty of them, but he hadn’t let himself go to seed.

After a hot shower, he gave himself a hair cut and cleaned up his stubble, chose a fine lined checked, forest green button down, a butterscotch belt, his best Dickies and some canvas loafers.

He counted out three thousand dollars that went into an envelope, which went into his shirt’s front pocket, closed the door, but immediately went back in. He’d forgotten to feed the kitten.

Afterwards he walked a half of a mile to the Denny’s. Before he was seated he used the payphone.

“Hey, Jay. It’s Moe…yeah I’m at the Denny’s on Linkletter. I’ll be here till nine. Can you meet me? “

Then he bought a newspaper and ordered the grand slam with extra bacon and coffee.