“Who was that?” Morgan asked.
Chester closed the phone, putting it gently back into his coat pocket. He looked at Morgan blankly and said,
“Just checking my voice mail.” He then offered a smile.
“I didn’t hear voice mail pick up,” Morgan added.
“You one of those dogs, hear high-frequency pitches and everything?” Chester asked.
The Town Car hit a bump, and Morgan gripped the armrest. “No.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Because when dogs hear something, they don’t ask questions. But if they start barking, that’s when their owner is bound to get upset. You get me, Morgan?”
“I get you.”
“Good,” Chester said. He looked out the window. They were heading toward the Queens-bound midtown tunnel.
Morgan could make out the East River, Roosevelt Island.
Morgan had never considered living outside of the city. If he was going to be a power broker, a master of the universe, he had to live within the castle walls. But now the powers that be were trying to evict him, trying to get him to leave the grounds he so desperately wanted t remain on. They’d taken his job, his livelihood, his dignity. It was up to him to figure out a way to stay.
So if Chester wanted to bullshit him about who he was calling, that was fine. Morgan didn’t need to know everything. As long as the paychecks cleared, that’s all that mattered.
“We’re almost there,” Chester said. Morgan nodded, looked out the window across the river.
Somewhere in the distance, he could hear fire trucks screaming.