much now, do you?"
"I don't want to get up there." Duncan slammed his drink down on the bar and glared at Eddie.
"Of course you don't, why should you? You wouldn't fit. Never ride a friend, don't push too hard to get upstairs."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean Joe's a nice guy, a white guy. He's going big places now, Duncan. You just don't fit." And after a pause: "And don't try to make yourself fit. Joe don't like guys who try to make themselves fit. Or did you try? How's your brother Frank?"
"Don't bring that kid into it."
Eddie didn't smile, though he knew "that kid" was twenty-seven, would stab his own father if there was enough in it, was disliked by even his own associates and had but one friend, a feared friend, a friend who made him tolerated along the Avenue, in the under life of a great city. And that friend was the impulsive, gun-toting, gun-using brother of the kid, Gunner Duncan himself.
"Bring the kid into what?" Eddie asked innocently.