I kicked the guy in the balls. The shit that served for made guys these day in Jersery was fucking pitiful. I didn’t kill the dick : just let him slide down the highway. I saw him coming a mile away; knew they’d be after me soon as I left the Florida state lines for my daughter’s wedding.
“Yo,” I yelled to Vinnie. I didn’t think he could hear me with his head under water, so I pulled him up by his arms back into the boat. His perfect New York oily hair smeared with salt water and all the bloody chum I’d been dumping into the water since we cast off from Port St. Lucy. “I’ll say it again in case you couldn’t hear me, so get the saltwater out of your ears. What was it the Skipper called you back in the old crew?”
“Well take it easy, Butch,” I told him, holding back my hand.