The Fall Guy

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They’d arranged to leave late so as to avoid the traffic. Matthew, trundling his suitcase from the subway, arrived at Charlie’s house in Cobble Hill at seven and helped load Charlie’s bags into the back of the Lexus. It was a humid evening, and by the time they were done his shirt was soaked in sweat.

They took the tunnel out of Brooklyn and headed up the West Side Highway, Charlie slowing the heavy vehicle at every intersection to avoid the speed cameras and accelerating hard for the next stretch. All the way through Midtown the lights cooperated with his progress, spreading green welcomes as if waving some dignitary through checkpoints. Not that Charlie noticed, of course, Matthew observed to himself; Charlie would never deign to notice such a trivial piece of luck.

In Harlem they exited to stock up at Fairway, filling a cart with cheeses, olives, artichokes, caper berries. At the last minute Charlie threw in some tins of Osetra caviar.

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