Even the Wicked

"As a matter of fact," I said, "I'm personally convinced you've got six homes of your own, including a penthouse on Sutton Place and a beachfront cottage in Barbados. But I'm a selfish son of a bitch, and I wanted to manipulate you into living right across the street from us."

"Figured you had a reason." He was still looking at the computer.

He was silent for a moment, and then he said, "You know, I ain't cried in years. Last time was when my grandmother came home from the doctor's an' said she was gonna die. Then when she did die I was real sad, you know, but I was cool with it. I didn't part with no tears. An' I ain't cried since."

I didn't say anything.

"An' I don't want to cry," he said. "So there's stuff I'd be sayin'

now, 'bout you an' Elaine, an' how, you know, how I feel an' all. But I ain't gonna say it."

"I understand."

" 'Cause if I was to try to say it…"

"I understand."

"But that don't mean it don't be real, 'cause it do."

"I understand that, too."

"Yeah, well you real understanding Brandon." He turned toward me, under control now. "Merry Christmas," he said.

"Merry Christmas."

The End

About the Author

The prolific author of more than fifty books and numerous short stories, Lawrence Block is a Mystery Writers of American Grand Master, a four-time winner of the Edgar Allan Poe and Shamus Awards, and the recipient of literary prizes from France, Germany, and Japan.

Block is a devout New Yorker who spends much of his time traveling.

Other Books by Lawrence Block