Swag Read Free

thinking about that old saying about being frank and earnest,” Frank said. “You be frank and I’ll be earnest.”
    Stick waited. “Yeah?”
    â€œIt seemed to fit.”
    â€œIt seemed to fit what?”
    â€œAlso I learned a few things about your record, about doing time at Milan. You want a cigarette?”
    â€œI got to buy some, I guess, if I’m going to keep smoking,” Stick said.
    Frank struck a match and held it for him. “Something I was wondering,” he said. “If you got a gun. If you ever carried one.”
    â€œA gun?” Stick looked at him. “You don’t need a gun to pick up a car. You don’t want a gun.”
    â€œWell, I didn’t know if that was all you did.”
    â€œI’ll tell you something,” Stick said, “since you’ll probably ask me anyway. The other night—I hadn’t picked up a car in over five years. That’s a fact.”
    â€œBut you picked up plenty before that, uh?”
    â€œYou could be a cop and I could give you places and dates, but it wouldn’t do you any good. Time’s run out.”
    â€œWell, you know I’m not a cop.”
    â€œThat’s about all I know,” Stick said, “so I’ll ask you a question if it’s okay. What’re you besides a used-car salesman and a sport that drinks a white Greek drink that looks like medicine?”
    â€œI don’t drink it all the time,” Frank said. “Only when I come here.”
    â€œIs that your answer?”
    â€œI’m not ducking the question. It’s not so much what I am,” Frank said, “as what I want to be.”
    â€œYeah, and what’s that?”
    Frank hesitated, drawing on his cigarette, then took a sip of the milky-looking ouzo. “What do they call you? Ernie?”
    â€œYou call me that, I won’t answer,” Stick said. “No, I used to be Ernie, a long time ago. Still once in a while people call me Ernest. It’s my name, I can’t do anything about that. But usually they call me Stick. Friends, guys I work with.”
    â€œBecause you stick up places?”
    â€œBecause of my name, Stickley, and I was skinny, like a stick in high school, when I was playing basketball.”
    â€œYeah! I did, too,” Frank said. “Was that down in Oklahoma you played?”
    â€œUp here. I was born in Norman,” Stick said, “but I guess you know that, uh?”
    Frank nodded. “I don’t detect much of an accent, though.”
    â€œI guess I lost most of what I had,” Stick said, “moving around different places. We come up here, our family, my dad worked out at Rouge twenty-three years.”
    Frank seemed interested. “We got a lot in common. My old man worked at Ford Highland Park. I was born in Memphis, Tennessee, came to Detroit when I was four, and lived here, I guess, most of my life, except for three years I spent in LA.”
    â€œYou married?” Stick asked him.
    â€œTwice. And I got no intention right now of going for thirds. Let’s get back,” Frank said. “I want to ask you, you never stuck up a place? Used a gun?”
    Stick waited a moment, like he was trying to see beyond the question, then shook his head. “Not my style. But since we’re opening our souls, how about you?”
    â€œUh-unh, me neither,” Frank said. “Well, years ago I was into a little burglary, B and E. Me and another guy, we didn’t do too bad. But then he went into numbers or something—he was a black guy—so I quit before I got in too deep. In and out, you might say.”
    â€œYou never used a gun during that time?”
    â€œWe didn’t have to. We only went into places there wasn’t anybody home.”
    â€œBut now you got a sudden interest in guns, it seems.”
    â€œNot a sudden interest.” Frank came around on his stool, giving it a quarter turn. “I’ve