As the story played back in their heads again and again, it became apparent that Andy was getting a bit tipsy and Spanky seriously drunk. Andy, particularly, was discussing the “old way” with passion.

“The job has always been dirty, Spanky, but not like it is now. When I started we called ourselves an Organization. We had class. Nowadays who do we have to worry about? Perry’s mob of street muggers? Or are we talking about Mama’s, whose fucking restaurant is more profitable than the rest of their operation?”

He licked the last drops falling out of the bottle, sent it towards the backseat and started rummaging under his legs. The second bottle, sealed with a plastic wrapping around the head, was quickly opened for tasting.

“The kids of now… They lack a vision. They do crime like a part-time job. Like it’s their homework. They’re going nowhere like that, let me tell you… No matter what kind of fancy ride they snatch up.”

Barely following the rambling, Spanky raised his head, asking: “And where are we going, man? Where’s our vision?” This was followed by more silence and focused sipping on both sides.

“You know what the guys say about me, right, Spanky?”, said Andy.

Spanky looked sideways at Andy, trying to guess without being offensive. “Is this about the hidden bottle stash? ‘Cause I could swear they don’t know about it.”

“They said I’m too old for the job”, replied Andy.

“Bullshit. You’re still the best at what you do and you know it”, said Spanky firmly.

“Still the best, Spanky. For how long? Was tonight’s job worthy of the best hit man we got? Maybe they’re right after all.”

Spanky scratched his head, uneasy. “What are you talking about? Retiring? Getting out of the field? What would you do?”

Andy sniffed, turned the bottle in his hands in his hands, listening to the sound of the alcohol washed against the glass. “And what about you, Butt — what’s your real name, again?”

“It’s Dylan”, said Spanky.

“Dylan. What are you planning to do, Dylan? You know you won’t be much more than a driver with us, the way things are. If you are lucky and reach my age, you’ll probably be Spanky the old handyman. Not much of a career.”

Spanky scratched his uneasiness again, below the chin this time. “You know, I never had much of a thought about careers… The other kids my age went into crime like it was the best job in town. It so happens that I’m one of the select few that went over 25 years with four limbs and my head straight, so I guess I’m grateful for that. Doing something else wasn’t much of a choice to begin with.”

“What if it was, then?”, asked Andy. “What would you do, given complete freedom over your days?”

“I don’t know, man!”, said Spanky. He tilted his head up and downed a good fifth of the new bottle. “I, mm… I think the only one of my block who didn’t turn mobster was Terry, he went busking in the streets after his folks threw him out… Was homeless for a while, traveled around… One time he told me all the countries he had seen, the clever fuck! All that without a penny or a pocket to put it in.”

He drank again, and added: “Don’t ask me, man, it’s just sad. I’m not a big shot like you, y’know? Retirement isn’t an option for me. You know what happened to Lil’Lucas when he jumped ship to follow his girl. I don’t… I don’t have an out.”

Andy made a sort of lopsided grin which looked more menacing than anything else, probably due to a lack of training. “You really think I do? Come on, Spanky, I’ve been working there for longer than most of you. I know the history. I know the dirty little secrets. I’m only alive because my face says I know how to shut up. I’m not getting out of there easy, either. But if I did… I think I would try singing.”

Spanky turned around to face Andy, but he was starting to find it difficult to actively face anything. “Singing, Andy? You a musician?”

Andy made his grim face again, already regretting the confession. “Nah, forget it. I used to hum a few tunes in my youth, is all. Haven’t done that in years. I don’t have it in me anymore.”

“Aw, come on, Andy! Don’t let me down after saying that!”, said Spanky, now quite enthusiastic about the whole thing. “Don’t you remember even one of them songs?”

“Stop it, Spanky. You probably don’t know any of them anyway. It’s my youth we’re talking about, remember? What do you listen to, apart from the summer hits?”

“Come on”, said Spanky again. “I swear this will stay between you and me. Please. I’m pleading there. I’ll get down on my knees if I have to!”

“Don’t”, said Andy quite scared at the perspective. “Don’t get down. Ah… Christ, I’ll do it.”

“Yeah! Andy’s gonna sing! Andy’s gonna sing!”, chanted Spanky, excited. He was drumming on the dashboard, his feet up in the air, doing a little happy dance.

“I’ll do it if you shut the fuck up”, replied Andy. Spanky stopped thrashing around and very quietly sat back properly in his seat. He cut the lights, in and out, to set the mood. “The stage is yours, Master”, he said, bowing loosely.

Andy looked at Spanky’s shadow disapprovingly, loosened his collar, cleared his throat a few times and started singing.

It was definitely something new to Spanky’s ears, a old timey lullaby about a waitress and a little man who came in for a drink and talked about loneliness. It had ups and downs and a gentle guitar strumming that almost could be head from the way Andy’s voice rasped just at the right moments.

The chorus was something like:

If you want me to come with you, then that’s all right with me. Cause I know I’m going nowhere, and anywhere’s a better place to be. Anywhere’s a better place to be.

When the song ended, there was a strange warmth inside of both of them, not all of it due to the gin. Andy felt as if he had stripped down a wall that had been up for years. Spanky experienced a surge of emotion so strong he had to pretend he was looking for something in his back pocket in order to wipe a budding tear. Both of them felt like reaching for the stars. They were not that far after all, right behind the windshield, shining with a sweet majesty upon the night of July.

“Well, that was a good one, for sure”, said Spanky in a whisper, all sobered up.

A few minutes went on without even drinking, and he added: “You know, I think we could do it. If… we really wanted to. This is between you and me, right?”

As emotional as he was right now, Spanky had to worry about his ass first, and Andy’s loyalties second. “You can count on it”, replied Andy, now all loosened up and calm. The bottle resumed its course as Spanky developed the idea.

“I was talking about… getting out. Retiring. On one hand as you said, we’re not exactly encouraged to do it, on the other hand, we have here a decent driver and I have not met someone better at concealing and erasing his tracks. As a team, we might just make it.”

Andy stretched on his seat. He was feeling the alcohol running with the blood, the same mingling euphoria that had taken Spanky already. “So what, we just disappear, make a new life? Go busking in some foreign country?”, he asked. He was feeling a laugh coming, and smiling wide at the naive idea.

“Well, you could sing”, said Spanky, “since you’re so good at it, and I could… do odd jobs like usual, just more legal ones.” He tried to reach for other ideas, but his mind was becoming far too clouded and he gave up.

Beside him, Andy was falling into a quiet stupor as he said: “Just the two of us, on the road, hm…”

There was quite a delay again, and when Spanky got back enough of his mind to answer, he found out Andy was sound asleep. Consciously screwing the cap on the remainders of the gin, he laid the bottle at his feet. He laid back, looking at the stars again and he was floating and turning for a moment until the darkness finally let him fall. And rest.