Dead To Me

“I’m sorry?” I said, trying to focus on the immediate world around me.

“George Plimpton,” Chip-tooth repeated, this time with a phlegmy chuckle. I could see the dollar signs light up in his eyes.

“The actor?” I said, trying to sound as nonchalant as I could. Next to the console was a Mickey Mouse phone, and hoping to draw attention away from the Intellivision, I picked the plastic rodent up and tested its ancient rotary dial. “What about him?”

Chip-tooth’s attitude shifted and he put his pudgy thumbs through his belt loops. “He did a series of commercials for Intellivision. Now you wa

I didn’t appreciate his impatience or the attitude. I continued examining the phone for a few seconds more before I slowly put it down and took up the console again. “It’s not in the best shape. There’s some wear and tear to it. How much you asking for that and the pile of games?”

“A king’s ransom,” Chip-tooth said and proceeded to laugh with such force that he started to cough. His body shook with the violence of it. I thought the big guy might keel over right in front of me.

“Seriously,” I said when he finally recovered. “How much?”

He scratched his sizable gut with one hand. With the other he rubbed his chin in thought. For a moment, he looked as if he was mulling it over sincerely, but I was sure he already had a set price in mind.

“Well,” he said, drawing his words out, “seeing as how it’s got a little damage to it, I suppose I could let it all go for two hundred dollars.”

I stifled a knee-jerk urge to laugh in his face.

Two hundred dollars? He was insulting my mad phat antiquing skills! To anyone but the guy I was going to return it to, the console was worthless because of the stickers all over it. I cursed myself for blowing my poker face. I also cursed Chip-tooth for his greed.

“Three dollars,” I counteroffered, totally deadpan.

“Don’t waste my time, son,” Chip-tooth fired back.

“Three dollars,” I repeated with even more conviction.

Chip-tooth sighed and shook his head.

“Listen, son,” he said, poking one of his pudgy fingers at my chest. “That console is a gen-u-ine piece of history-of rock and roll history, in fact. I purchased it at great expense from none other than Yoko Ono herself. She and John Le

He was so full of shit that I felt real anger building inside me, but I simply kept calm and looked him straight in the eye.

“First of all,” I said, pushing his finger away from my chest, “even if this console had ever been within forty miles of John Le

Chip-tooth snorted and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t believe me?” I said, grabbing the Mickey Mouse phone and dashing it to the ground. “Ask anyone here.”

He stared at me, angry and dumbfounded, and then turned to look around. The sound of laughter rose from several of the nearby booths and I almost felt sorry for the guy. I pulled out my wallet, and held a twenty out toward him.

His face dropped in defeat. Without argument, Chip-tooth took the twenty and began to wrap the console and games in silence.

My cell phone vibrated to life in the pocket of my brown suede coat and I nearly jumped out of my skin. The last thing I expected in the predawn hours was a phone call on my private line. I pulled it out and checked the display.CONNOR CALLING.

Co

I flipped my phone open and was greeted by an earful of static.

“Hello?” I said. Another wave of static crashed into my ear and I pulled the phone away as fast as I could. “Co

“Simon!” Co

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I was already up.”

There was desperation in Co

The signal on my cell phone continued to break up. It sounded like listening to an old-time radio as it was being flipped through a variety of stations.

“Still hav…trouble…sleeping?” Co

“Never mind my nocturnal problems,” I said, dismissive. “Is everything okay?”

Another wave of static crackled in my ear and I pulled it even farther away.

“Need…help. Can you meet…University…Seventh?”

Maybe it was the bad co

“University and Seventh?” I repeated. “Yeah, I’m up on Seventy-Ninth, but I can be down there in about ten minutes. Traffic should be light.”

“Thanks, kid,” he said, “and hurry.” The static rose once more and the line fell dead.

Something strange was brewing and a horrible feeling began building in the pit of my stomach. I needed to get moving, but Chip-tooth was still taking his sweet time finishing his packing job.

“Can you bubble wrap it?” I asked. “And hurry up. I’m packing for battle.”

3

After I hung up with Co

The alley was filled with a weak yellow light from high overhead and I slowed as I followed the sound, partly out of caution but also because the last few blocks had winded me. I followed the alley along another fifty feet before it turned right. I rounded the corner and found Co

“What happened to your hair?” I whispered. Then realization dawned. “You’ve been skunked!”

“You’re kidding,” Co

“You’re excited about it?” I asked. “Makes you look older.”

“Course I am,” he whispered back, beaming with pride. “You know it’s something special to be skunked, kid. A mark of prestige in the Department. It means you looked the devil in the eye and lived to tell about it.”

“That’s comforting,” I said, feeling for the retractable bat hanging from my belt. “So now you’re in their elite littleHair Club for Men?”

“Theyprefer to be called the White Stripes, thank you,” Co