“My meeting was on the seventy-second floor at Coach Insignia, a bar that had a panoramic view of Detroit, the Detroit River, and Canada. That was where the man called Eddie Coyle was waiting. I found him seated at the swank bar, his eyes moving from the television to the well-dressed women as they exited the elevator and sashayed into the dimly lit area. Some wore open-toed high heels and short dresses. Those women were with men who wore Rolexes as symbols of success. The wives of executives wo...re the same brand of watch to symbolize they had latched onto the paychecks of wealthy men. I took a breath and reassured my battered ego that one day my wife and I would belong to that club, the one for people who had access to wealth and were given all the love that money could buy, people who had Panglossian temperaments and lived inside a gold-lined bubble where all was the best in this best of all possible worlds. I took off my wool coat, then removed my fedora. Eddie Coyle had on a dark suit and tie.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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