THE REPORTER finally called. Mama took the message. I rang him back.
"You got it?"
"Sure."
"Meet me…"
"Oh, man. Why can't you be civilized once? You know my address, come to my house."
"Not tonight."
"Okay, man. Talk to me. Be quick now, I got work to do."
"Tomorrow morning. Eleven o'clock. You know where the guys work on their cars under the FDR? Like around Thirty-third?"
"Sure."
"I'll be there."
He made a disgusted noise. Hung up.