DANTEWhen he entered the small gathering, a man he did not quite recognize called out to him. 'Dante!' Dante shook the man's hands with a quizzical look. Under the scarlet mask, he could not make out the man's face.'You do not know me, but I knew your father,' this man told Dante. 'We were good friends, him and I.' He still had Dante's palm in his and he was pumping it vigorously.'It is good to know. Nice meeting you, Mr—''—Kanan. Kanan *Johnson.'Dante knew the name. Most people in the city did. It was the name of one of Queen's most notorious dealers I'm the 90s. The man had long since retired, Dante had heard. Left much of his work in the hands of others, and now, spent most of his time vacationing. It was life to aspire to, Dante thought. A life that made time for rest. A concept his father never seemed to have understood. Dante asked, 'You are the Kanan? I have heard things about you. You knew my father?''Da

JACKIE'When was the last time you were at a party?' Jackie asked Dante as they walked the length of the hall together, walking so close to each other that their hands touched occasionally.'What?' Dante asked over the din of the music.'I said, when was the last time you were at a party?' She said again. 'A real party.'Dante had both hands in his pocket; he took one out and ruffled his hair in thought. 'When? I do not remember.'She laughed. 'That long ago?''It is not like I kept tabs. If there was a party, I just went. And then, one day I stopped.''Why did you stop?' Jackie asked. Dante was so tall, she had to look up at him. He had at least a head or two above Neil, and that, she thought, was really saying something.A masked woman sashaying past slid her hand down Dante's arm as she went. He smiled politely at her but never slowed his stride. 'For one,' he said, 'I graduated college. And then, I started a club.'Jackie f

DANTEThe day that Dante returned to New York after his graduation, the first thing that he did was go to the Red Wolf Brooklyn. It was a small restaurant on 97 Wythe Avenue that his mother used to take him to, famed for its meat specialty. There was mezze, and there was meat and, of course, the best French fries that the entire city had to offer. At least, in his mother's opinion. The first few times that Dante had been there in that small, cramped space sizzling with aromatic spices, he had felt nausea. The meat was too seasoned he had said, and his father, Raymond, made a joke that it felt as though the air itself was seasoned. But they had gone at his mother's order, because that was simply the way that things were with them. The place had begun to grow on them and eventually, it became what his remembered his mother liked to call the ‘family spot’.Now as Imani parked the car in front of the building, he stared at it, wondering how in God's name he had made an impulse decision to

He took her in with his eyes.She was dressed as she often was at hours after closure: in loose but revealing clothes, that showed off her midriff and shoulders. A thin layer of sweat shone on her brow, on the bit of her chest that the clothes left bare to the eye. She was staring at him too, he realized, with something like contemplation in her eyes.Under the scrutiny of her gaze, Andre wanted to stand straighter, he wanted to be taller, broader, even ythough he already was those things. More than most people were. There was something about the bar-woman that made him want to be better, to be the things he was not. The only person in this world who had ever had that effect on him was Molly. Not Big Jack, definitely not Raymond Bianchi, both of whom he had admired at a certain point. Both of whom he still admired distantly.It was only Molly. Sweet Molly of blessed memory.He pushed the thought of Molly away. Because, look how it ended. Look how she ended. In an alleyway. Everybody

Spears The new commissioner of Police, Coleman Spears, was the sort of man who kissed God often.He was Catholic, and an earnest one at that. But he had one tragic flaw: like the commissioner before him and the one that came before that one, and the one that came years before his predecessor's predecessor, he did not mind taking a few wads of cash to look the other way. What else was he supposed to do? he argued each time his conscience chewed at him. It was logical. Regardless of what the police or any other person did, there would always be crime lurking in the dark corner a of the city. That was the thing about big cities and flashy places, they drew people to them en masse and since all people had their vices, they came carrying their shit along.The safest way to make sure that people did not get hurt, quite often, was to look the other way. To pretend not to see. But sometimes, looking the other way brought even more trouble. Sometimes, the best way to keep the city safe was t