William Kennedy: Billy Phelan's Greatest Game

“Who wrote that?” the old man asked.

“Peter.”

“Peter who?”

“Peter Daugherty.”

“He’s full of medieval bullshit.”

“Yes, I’m afraid he is.”

“It’s a nice letter, however.”

“The sentiment is real.”

“What was his name?”

“Peter Daugherty.”

“Daugherty. That’s the same name as mine.”

“Yes, it is. Quite a coincidence.”

“The Irish always wrote good letters. If they could write.”

Martin’s view of his meeting with his father was this: that all sons are Isaac, all fathers are Abraham, and that all Isaacs become Abrahams if they work at it long enough.

He decided: We are only as possible as what happened to us yesterday. We all change as we move.

Billy Phelan came into Becker’s at early evening wearing a new hat and a double-breasted gray topcoat. The fall winds howled outside as the door swung closed behind him. He walked to the middle of the bar and stood between Footers O’Brien and Martin Daugherty.

“The magician is among us,” Footers said.

“I could’ve done without that line, Martin,” Billy said.

“Magic is magic,” said Martin. “Let’s call things by their rightful names.”

“What’re you drinking, Billy?” Red Tom asked.

“You still sellin’ scotch?”

“Most days.”

“A small one, with water.”

“On the house,” Red Tom said, setting the drink down in front of Billy.

“Times certainly do change,” Billy said.

“Hey, Billy,” Footers said, “there’s a hustler upstairs looking for fish. Why don’t you go give him a game?”

“I’m resting,” Billy said. “Too much action all at once gives you the hives. Who’s running the pool room now?”

“Nobody yet,” Footers said. “Just the helpers Daddy had. Did you hear? They had to take up a collection to pay the undertaker. Bindy bought the coffin, but that still left a hundred and ten due. All they got was seventy-five.”

“Who passed the hat?” Billy asked.

“Gus. Lemon. I scraped up a few bucks for the old bastard. Let this be a lesson to us all. He who lives by the tit shall die by the tit.”

Gus Becker came out of the kitchen and saw Billy.

“So the renegade hero returns.”

“The door was open.”

“Give the man a drink on me, Tom,” Gus said.

“I already did.”

“Then give him another one.”

“I don’t need free booze, Gus. I got money.”

“Don’t hold it against us, Bill,” Gus said. “When the word comes down, the word comes down. You understand.”

“Sure, Gus. You got your business to think of. Your wife and kids. Your insurance policies.”

“Don’t be difficult, Bill. There was no other way.”

“I understand that, Gus. I really understand that now.”

“That a new hat, Billy?” Red Tom asked. “It looks like a new hat.”

“It’s a new hat. The river spirits got my old one.”

“The river spirits?” Martin said.

“He’s over the edge,” said Footers. “You started this, Martin.”

“You wouldn’t want to explain that, Billy?” said Martin.

“No,” Billy said.

“In that case,” Martin said, “did you hear that Jake Berman raised two thousand dollars to have Marcus Gorman defend Morrie? It’ll be in the paper tonight, without mentioning the fee, of course.”

“I thought old Jake didn’t like Morrie.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Yeah. What star is that up there?” Billy said. “The one in the back row. That’s new.”

“That’s Curry,” Red Tom said.

“Curry? I didn’t know he was in that picture. I must’ve looked at it five thousand times, I never saw him.”

“It’s him. He hung in here a lot in those days.”

“Curry was a gen-u-ine crazy,” Footers said. “I saw him and another guy steal a billy club away from a sleeping cop one night over in the station. But the billy club wasn’t enough so they took the cop’s pants and left the poor sucker in the middle of the station in his long underwear.”

“And Daddy’s got his star, too,” Billy said. “That’s three in a couple of weeks.”

“They go,” Red Tom said.

Billy looked at the picture and thought about the three dead. They all died doing what they had to do. Billy could have died, could have jumped into the river to earn his star. But he didn’t have to do that. There were other things Billy had to do. Going through the shit was one of them. If Billy had died that night, he’d have died a sucker. But the sucker got wised up and he ain’t anywheres near heaven yet. They are buying you drinks now, Billy, because the word is new, but they’ll remember you’re not to be trusted. You’re a renegade, Billy. Gus said so. You got the mark on you now.

Lemon Lewis came in the front door with red cheeks. Never looked healthier.

“Cold as a witch’s tit out there,” Lemon said.

“Don’t talk about witches,” Footers said. “The magician is here.”

“What magician?”

“Don’t you ever read the papers, Lemon?”

“Oh, you mean Phelan. Aaaaah. So they let you back in, eh, hotshot?”

“They just did it to make you feel good, Lemon,” Billy said.

“Hey, Phelan,” said Lemon, “that card game at Nick’s that night of the holdup. Did you really have that ace in the hole?”

All Billy could do was chuckle.

“You’ll never know, will you, Lemon?”

“You ready for another?” Red Tom asked Billy. “You got a free one coming from Gus.”

“Tell him to give it to the starving Armenians. Footers, what about that guy looking for fish. You ready to back me till I figure him out? Fifty, say?”

“How does twenty-five grab you?” Footers said.

“In a pinch I’ll take twenty-five,” Billy said.

Billy drank his scotch and said, “Come on, Martin, maybe we’ll get even yet.”

And with Footers beside him, and Martin trailing with an amused smile, Billy went out into the early freeze that was just settling on Broadway and made a right turn into the warmth of the stairs to Louie’s pool room, a place where even serious men sometimes go to seek the meaning of magical webs, mystical coin, golden birds, and other artifacts of the only cosmos in town.