Nathan: "They kill faggots in Jinx." I whisper this to Donatello, he nods and stays quiet but I know he doesn't understand because he was never at Pirate Bob's where I used to hang out with the boys. Mickey. Too young, too lost. Serge. Mascara thick, pretty eyes. Martin. Greasy, always pale sweaty on crack. Daisy. Who told you your ass puckered like a flower bud? And him. And him. Old Pratt doesn't run Pirate Bob's anymore, but back then he had a nice operation, letting the boys hustle in his place. You see them, lazy, sitting on the tables kicking their legs sipping Cokes. Sometimes they played pool. Digger really knew how--Shit no, Digger, not for money, I know you, you're the one hustler who can really hustle a mean game of stick, shut up, Daisy, you want to take him on? Your sweet pretty boy laugh. Pratt gave them something besides a Jinx streetcorner and they cut him cash on every trick. Old boy Pratt, said he was clean, never tasted the merchandise meat. Slobbery sonofabitch, good thing, if he even touched one of those kids he'd go off and marry some Maggie Sue sweetheart in St. Genesius's swearing off sodomy forever. Anybody cruising Aliento would be guaranteed to find at least one tight one at Pirate Bob's. Guys from the army base. You can spot them in civvies because of the haircuts. Old bastards who got tipped off at the casino. Sometimes a first-timer looking for some squeeze but scared to death of finding it. I didn't sell like the rest of them, only now and then when some shifty guy wanted some tough butching from behind or even a good slap-around. Remember, Serge? You're good cop, I'm bad. You went down and I greased him hard and told him who the real bitch was. And I always helped them out if they needed it. In the bathroom Martin on his knees, easy kid, easy, messing up his hair--Here's some extra, that was smooth as syrup. Thanks, Nathan, you're a pal--He runs off looking for the bad man with the rocks. That day, the biggest day, the day that sent all the boys away, it was just Pratt, me, Digger and Daisy. You had the prettiest skin, Daisy, your hands white and smooth, strutting around like you and your ass both knew what tight was. I'm by the wall letting a stick just swing over the floor. Digger just won me again, his baseball cap cocked to the side, that black hair still spiking out everywhere. Old Pratt at the counter, watching a talk show on a black-and-white. Didn't he look me up and down just a little at least once? I don't believe, you ape, you couldn't just sit and never sniff the hungry boys walking around you every day. It's the afternoon so the real business hasn't started yet. Some guy on his lunch hour came by earlier, seems he was hammering two-by-four's on a construction site and got too hot watching his buddies work, their arms getting all slicked with sweat. Digger took him to the bathroom and left Pratt a five when they came out. I know digger didn't drop his pants for that one. Daisy in shorts, skinny legs, curls hanging over his forehead, sitting on a stool by a table. I always took it easy with you, Daisy. Turned into queer Uncle Nathan and took care of you, gave any bad-looking bastard a hard stare just to let him know he'd pay with pain if he treated you rough. The door swings open, spear of daylight, dark in here usually, low lights hanging from high ceiling, dust in the air. Even the dust slow, floating. Smiley, the bald guy with goatee, olive-drab bomber jacket. He used to come in and practice by himself, sometimes take somebody else on for a game. Quiet guy, turned his back at the right time, not here to score, just for pool. No big secret, everyone who went to Pirate Bob's knew about games in the bathroom and cars parked out back. What else can you think when you see men come in, meet teenage boys and leave. Digger pulling a stick off the rack, thinking he's got a game. Smiley stops, his hands in his pockets, unzips his jacket, reaches a hand inside and pulls out a pistol. I look at Digger. What are we all thinking. Stand back Pratt--Quiet Smiley talking loud. Pratt backing off, palms up, no trouble. The gun in his hand arcing across the three of us--All fags against the wall, now. Fag. Fagboy. Faggot. Father holding the magazine, ripping the pages in front of me--Look at this filth your mother found in your room, what are you, a faggot, huh, is my son a faggot, you want it in your ass like this. The fags get against the wall. Me in the middle, Daisy, Digger, looking at each other not knowing what to do. Smiley up next to Pratt--Get down in the safe and give it up, Pratt. Pratt working at it. Come on, come on. It's okay, Daisy, just a holdup, he'll get his stuff and get out. Pratt'll have to up his percentage but that's it, that's all to worry about. Smiley stuffs money in his pockets--On the floor, flat. Points with the gun and leads Pratt over, face down on the floor in front of the counter. Coming this way, don't come this way, just leave. All right, I'm sick of seeing you faggots in here--Smiley's lips curled back small yellow teeth. Digger says something. Why did you have to say that, Digger, or anything, some tell-off remark I can't remember. Now look at you on your back flopping in blood like a fish. You can't keep that blood in you, Digger. You're losing it all over the floor, you keep grabbing it but it's getting away and seeping into all those cracks. Goddamn it Digger, keep your mouth shut. I'll see you in hell before I let you take it in the ass--Father balling pages and throwing them in the fireplace, growing black and spitting up gray flakes. You don't know, it's nothing about being faggot, fairy, queer. I only know I saw him stiff with blood and nothing ever looked better. Turn over and let me touch you, I want my fingers there and then myself. Smiley's looking at me--You got something to say? Hard splat of light the door opens, some guy with long hair and beard--What's going on man? I knew Digger but now he's just somebody dying. The man sees it too, the blood--Fucking crazy, come on, let's get out of here. Smiley backing up to the door, the other holding it open. Just one more--Smiley shoots. Not you Daisy, not you. Smiley had less than a second to pick who to aim at and he picked Daisy. On the floor, his blood washing the white from my hands--Get on the phone, Pratt, get up now and get on the phone, he's dying, they're both dying. It was just us at the beginning, Daisy. Leaving home on that long bus ride, I remember your head on my shoulder, my head on your head, trying to sleep. Then Aliento. It's Aliento, but at least it's not home. Mom slapping me, her mouth getting uglier each smack. Daisy stops moving, finally. CULPRITS, TWO BYSTANDERS KILLED IN JINX ROBBERY. Short column in the morning daily. They got Smiley and his buddy on the road heading for the next town. Nothing about Smiley yelling Faggot. I didn't tell. Either did Pratt. Anything you could say about things like that stopped at Pirate Bob's that day. Pratt sold the place and moved on. The boys left town because I told them all why Digger and Daisy died. Nobody I know sells in Jinx these days. They just pose for Donatello and offer tail for a fatter modeling fee. Donatello doesn't know and I don't tell him. Daisy and I had a story. We began and we ended.

It started when we found the guns. It started some more when Nico got ideas about how to run the Jinx Boys. Then the night at the watch tower. But even more than that I remember the afternoon at the pool hall.

August and I were shooting stick. Nando was on a stool by the wall. Silvio was on our side, but he wasn't there with us.

August leaned long over the table to reach a tough shot. He had to ease his ball past one of mine while trying to keep balanced. I sat on the stool watching him. I heard tapping. Hard wood sharp on wood. Nando had reached over to the cue stick rack and was sliding one up and down. He saw me look and jerked his head, pointing me to something.

I looked over and saw Nico standing in the doorway, the sun coming in behind him so he was more silhouette than man.

Martin behind the counter nodded how's it goin'. He didn't know the situation. For him it was the Jinx Boys getting together like usual.

August glanced up, said "Nico" and looked back at the spread to take his shot. The ball hit mine and stopped. He straightened up.

Nico came over, his black jacket closed up with a fat silver zipper, his hair tight and gleaming slick. "Hi, August. Nando. Amador." I said "Hi," Nando was quiet.

"You want to play?" said August.

"Yeah, Nico, you still play stick, don't you?" said Nando, smirking. He took the cue stick he was holding off the rack.

"No, not today," said Nico.

I stepped up to the table. August left me set with a good clean line for a corner pocket.

"Too much shit going on, huh Nico?" Nando still had a stupid smile but he knew it was stupid and wanted it that way. August looked at him and Nando stopped smiling. I hit the white ball hard and my striped ball went in quick and clean.

"You guys have been talking?" said August. He knew they were. I think he could see them as sharp as I could, snuffing out cigarettes on Valentin's cherry hood and talking fucking August this and that son-of-a-bitch Nando that.

Nando got off the stool and started walking around the tables slowly just to keep Nico a little edgy.

"Yeah," said Nico. "Mig. Valentin. Alex. Reggie. Demi. They're all with me."

I looked the table over for good angles. One ball was ready for banking off the side. I leaned down and rested the cue's tip between my knuckles.

"Well, I've got these guys plus Silvio."

"Six to four," said Nico.

I got the angle too loose and the ball hit a couple of inches off. August was already resting his stick against another table. I kept holding mine.

August shook his head. "Not good enough. I could talk any of those boys to my side, and you know it."

"Are we splitting then?" Nico's eyes were on August when he said it. August looked at the two of us. He was asking without saying it.

"The Jinx Boys kick together," I said. Nando was standing, his feet spread apart, looking straight down at where the stick's handle was on the floor. But he nodded.

August nodded too. "Nobody wants us coming apart." He looked at the table beside him. Our game frozen there, waiting for him. He looked at it like all he saw was plain green. "So what do we do?"

"A duel," said Nico. "You and me. The winner leads us all."

"You want to dance with the knives?" said Nando. He slashed his hand from side to side. "A little sticky poker, huh?"

"Pistols," said Nico.

When Nico said that August looked down at the floor and made everything that came after that possible. It was like he was seeing things that Nico didn't see. They had years going back together. None of the Jinx Boys knew each other that long. They had first highs, first drunks, first fucks, first bloody noses. Are you sure you want to do that, Nico?

Nico was mad with that grease smell of the gun and the black smoke smell of a fired shot. He had a little silver splinter glowing in his eye that got big and bright when he picked up that gun. Nothing feels as solid as that. It looks like it should be so heavy you can't lift it but when you pick it up and you can lift it and aim it you know you're weighing down the earth like you never can without it. Are you sure you want to do that, Nico?

August took such a long moment before he said anything that Nando and I had time to look at each other. I knew by the way his eyes and mouth were that we both understand that the more August looked at the floor the more we belonged to Nico and the less we belonged to August. Whatever you're going to be, you don't want to be scared, and nobody's scared who doesn't talk scared. Are you sure you want to do that, Nico?

Nico killed August with that one word in the afternoon. He killed him a little more that night.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Nico."

"If you want to join me and the other boys, you can," said Nico. He said it knowing there weren't many things August could say back.

"We ruled ourselves, Nico. We always did. We don't work for anybody."

"Leopold Boggs wants to put us on top in Jinx."

"Leopold Boggs wants more people to push around." They didn't say that name the same way. When Nico spoke it he said possibilities, power. August was just talking bowing down to something bigger than yourself.

"You're thinking small now, August. If you won't give in then we have to go at it tonight. That's how my boys want it. What about you two?" He looked at me, then Nando.

Nando said, "You can pop him August, get it over with." I don't know how sure he was about believing that, but I didn't say anything so I was basically saying the same thing.

We were both trying to stand by August, but by then he probably decided it was him against everyone else. "Where tonight?" he said.

"The water tower," said Nico.

"Fine then." August took his stick and turned back to the table, walked around it looking for shots. He didn't do anything but look at the spread while Nico walked out.

Our game had been waiting for him the whole time. He had balls everywhere, some nice set-ups. All he had to do was get down close to that table and start dropping them in, and that's all I needed to talk myself into believing in him again.

You don't stop in the middle of a game. You keep on, you shoot stick, you keep your eyes and your arm working until someone takes it. Even if you thought there was a gun at your head you kept playing. But August just kept walking around the table acting like he was looking for shots that were everywhere in front of him. Nando sat back on his stool. I waited for a turn that never came, and pretty soon we had to go get ready for the night.