Among Thieves
“Kozlowski was standing in the doorway to the back office where he spent most of his time holed up. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his polyester slacks straining against the muscles in his leg, his secondhand-store jacket flapped open, revealing his shoulder holster and gun. A caricature of himself.
“She went to pick up the girl,” Finn said. “Why?”
Kozlowski shook his head. “No reason.”
“You guys got a date to register for china patterns this afternoon or something?”
Kozlow...ski looked confused. “What?”
“China patterns. That’s what people do when they decide to get married, right?” Finn said. “They go out and they pick out china patterns? Silverware, too. New towels, sheets, crockery, the whole shootin’ match.”
“Fuck you.”
“How about hot plates? Either of you guys got a hot plate?”MoreLess
“She went to pick up the girl,” Finn said. “Why?”
Kozlowski shook his head. “No reason.”
“You guys got a date to register for china patterns this afternoon or something?”
Kozlow...ski looked confused. “What?”
“China patterns. That’s what people do when they decide to get married, right?” Finn said. “They go out and they pick out china patterns? Silverware, too. New towels, sheets, crockery, the whole shootin’ match.”
“Fuck you.”
“How about hot plates? Either of you guys got a hot plate?”MoreLess
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