Category: New Book

Chapter Eighteen

“So you’ll think about?” Marty Erndel pleaded. Lenny Wizenberg grinned, delighted less at the terms of the deal than with the abstract idea that a man as putatively important as the Kike would want to do a deal with someone like him. “I said I would, Marty.” “It’s good for all of us.” Lenny inhaled...

Chapter Seventeen

How old they were really didn’t matter. It was how old their paperwork said they were that mattered. So long as the boys who showed up at Larry Cohen’s office could produce a government-issued document, a driver’s license or a passport, something official that proved they were 18, Larry could offer them work. It didn’t...

Chapter Sixteen

Doug sorted through the proposals. They were good, he thought. Creative. Surprising. He liked them. He felt bad, a little bad, that everybody but one would have to lose. He also felt a little bad that even the winner wasn’t going to really win much, besides seeing his words in print and getting lots of...

Chapter Fifteen

When he was younger, when everyone still called him Father Mike, he could memorize pages of text at a time. Not just liturgical stuff, either. Sure, that too. But not only Scripture. Anything. Grocery lists, American presidents, the starting lineups and batting orders of both teams in the 1998 World Series (and each player’s batting...

Chapter Fourteen

Jefferson Jiminez had never seen so many naked women in his life. Not in person, anyway. This was different than those gangbang videos, for sure. No doubt the girls here in this house, they weren’t as fine as the young, tight tramps you saw in the jerk-off movies. But damn! They sure were enthusiastic. Tammy,...

Chapter Thirteen

Ruthie Linder, the casting director, looked up from her stack of headshots and resumes. She peered over her glasses at the handsome young man standing on the other side of her desk. He was cute. (Weren’t they all?) And his skin: so pure. It was more than unblemished. His skin glowed, as though his face...

Chapter Twelve

“Possibly the worst poker players I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.” Between ravenous bites of a low-carb chicken wrap, Lenny Wizenberg repeated the sentence twice, putting emphasis on “the” the first time and “worst” the second time. Doug Bishop wasn’t really listening to his partner’s declamations, or watching him, either. Lenny’s hungry bites reminded...

Chapter Eleven

All the regulars at Marty Erndel’s Thursday night poker game had nicknames calculated to offend anyone who wasn’t lucky enough to be invited to Erndel’s exclusive weekly affair. To the players, this was a big joke: Aside from the seven regulars, the Lucky Seven they called themselves, no one knew the game existed. Not the...

Chapter Ten

Father Mike had a problem, the kind that wasn’t covered in the Bible or grandiloquently authoritative bulletins from Rome. Chad Evans, eldest son of the congregation’s most-respected (and, coincidentally, wealthiest) family, wouldn’t accept that he, Chad Evans, was special. Anyone with eyes in his head could see that the boy was a remarkable creature. Really,...

Chapter Nine

Lenny Wizenberg liked employees like Jefferson Jiminez, strivers who derived a disproportionate amount of their self-esteem from a job whose crushing blandness was apparent to everyone but the guy doing the work. People with too much ambition, dangerous dreamers who wanted to leave their mark on the world, were prone to cause trouble. When it...